first snow

the snow was beautiful. it was the fluffy kind that hits soft and makes everything seem clean. the kind that loses you when you tilt your head back and let the flakes fall all over.

and my whole tragedy circles around that moment on the fucking step. i ran outside to cry, cigarette in hand. and i dont know what it is about the nicotine and the cold, but i was numb and it felt good.

the type of cry that hurts you, but is long over due. the cry that youve held onto for so long that only a moment like this warrants. the sobs came from deep in my chest, from the pit of my stomach... and i don't even know why i let it hurt me that bad.

damien rice was playing in the house and his haunting voice carried to wear i sat. the type of melody that traps you and wont let you go. too much alcohol was flowing through me as i sat and watched the delicate snow fall on the road and cars. fuck the shivers and the cold. it was beautiful.

it hurt.

so bad.

that i just wanted more.

i dont smoke. but i kept taking drags until it burned my fingers.

and i honestly dont know why i let it hurt me. i still dont. him. boys. words. i dont know why i let it mean anything.

on the step with no shoes or coat, smoking my poison and letting the alcohol filter through my system. luckily first snows are beautiful, or i mightve started running. which in hindsight, mightve saved me some hurt.

hadnt felt that real in months. haven't been that honest ever.