Mar 29

It Isn't Worth It

"I know it's illegal, but it's the weekend!" He whispered into my ear as he smoothly slid his hand across my stomach and placed it on my waist.  I had no sense of what was going on anymore.  My nose burned, and I could feel the blood draining from my body.  He sat there looking more comatosed then ever sitting in the driver's seat of his light blue 1989 Mustang.  I didn't understand why I enjoyed the rush I felt being with him, but I realized it wasn't because he was near me.  With my eyes hazed over, intensely blood shot, and itching at the surface, I placed my hand on the side of his tan face and kissed him as long as I could.  We always played the game of "who can hold their breath the longest while kissing", and he usually won every single time.  He looked just like me; strawberry eyes, blood dripping from his nose in crimson drops onto his leather seats, and skin as white as a ghost.  White powder clung to the front of his striped rugby frat house shirt.  I tried to brush it off just incase the cops showed up anytime soon. When I placed my hand on his chest to take the powder off, I only made it worse by rubbing it in.  He didn't really care anyways since he was so out of it.  I started to come back to my senses, and I couldn't remember where I even was.  My parents always told me not to do things that were illegal, but you know me; I'm the rebel of the family and could careless what they say.  I pushed open the door to his car and let myself out.  He was clearly passed out and wasn't getting up anytime soon.  As I walked away from his car gaining sense of what I did, who I am, and where I was; I thought to myself, "That isn't the life I want to see myself living."  I thought I was wearing a purple shirt today, but I guess it is green.