It's comical how you never truly see your own problems or solutions to these problems until someone else says something, they don't even have to say something blatant, they just need to plant to seed which will grow into a tree of realisation. I never really thought about why I loved to throw myself into worlds built on the imaginations of other people whether it was fiction or through some form of study. It was not until I sat on the dimly lit pier of a beach not too far from home with one of my bestfriend's that a seed was planted within me.
It was a cool evening, nothing unexpected seeing as it is the middle of winter. The light breeze whipped across my bare skin. The waves crashed rhythmically onto the beach and we sat starring into the distance at the lights on the other side of the bay just across the bay. We had been catching up after not seeing eachother for nearly a month.
The words which stood out to me were, "dissatisfaction with life".
The phrase still rings in my mind, until that moment I did not realise just how dissatisfied I was with my own life. I was so busy throwing myself into disappearing into thick novels and spurs of drunkenness that I did not even give myself any time to think.
The seed was planted and now has become a mere sapling. The branches grow stronger everyday, I always have this funny image in my head of the branches starting to grow out of my ears and nostrils. The tree, however, is sick, its leaves are a light yellow and wilted, and the branches are covered in termites. The tree has roots deep within my soul and my thoughts and insecurities slowly begin to poison the tree until all that is left is it's dead trunk.
Whenever I have thoughts like this I always have a tendency to shut them down immediately. I think, 'you have no right to be complaining or upset about your life.' I remember, I am a very fortunate person. Not only do I live in a developed country with a relatively high level of security, but, I am very well-off. I shut myself down because I am not naïve to not only the relative poverty of the people within my immediate location but also the fact that every single person in this goddamn country is a lot better off than possibly half of the worlds population residing in the slums of developing nation-states. People often mistake me for a unintellectual, pretentious rich bitch just because I seemingly do not care about my education as much as I should.
It was not until another seed, planted reminded me that while my problems may be trivial in the vast span of things, because they are important to me, that still makes them significant. So for the first time in a very long time, I allow myself to feel a little bit of self-pity. It is a true indulgence that I rarely allow myself to taste, especially because I have overdosed on it before as a confused pre-teen. I lost my father and my brother... my mother tries to fit me into her life but fails me to a great extent. I have pain, deep cutting pain. I may come home to a multimillion dollar mansion everyday, but that doesn't make me inhuman. I feel. I hurt. I cry. I escape.
I escape using the magical power of tequila. Shot. Shot. Shot. Shot. Shot. Lick, Drink, Suck. It might as well be my motto. I may be seventeen but being wealthy does have it's privileges. Tonight is not different from any other night. I am wearing a one-shoulder Versace black sequin dress with my favourite red louboutin pumps. I have already downed a couple of drinks leaving the familiar fuzzy warmth I crave in my chest and stomach. The music vibrates within my blood streams as my body starts to rock to the beat. A blonde boy with piercing blue eyes catches my eye from across the bar, he smiles and I smile back before turning my back and struting to the crowded dance floor.
I start swaying my hips, and before long I feel a pair of hands on my waist. I turn to meet the eyes of the boy from across the bar. He gives me a devilish grin as he pulls my body closer. I am pressed against him grinding to the beat. Before I realise what was happening his lips have found mine and we stood still passionately kissing in the centre of the dance floor. He strokes my hair and presses his forehead to mine as we start to dance again. He moves my hair as I tease him by rubbing my ass over his hardness and stucks to kiss down my neck. His hands slide down the side of my body and reaches the hem of my dress. I know I should stop him but I was on fire and needed him to touch me. His fingers lingered before they slid under my dress and he pushed my panties aside plunging a finger deep into me. My body curled backwards into him as he slowly fingered me. The lights and music suddenly faded and we were alone in this huge room.
Then, abruptly I was empty. He disappeared into the crowd of dancing people and I was left alone again. My roots grew deeper. I was dissatisfied with my life... I just wanted, no I needed, something real. Something stable. Something to believe in again.