Last October (and most of them before), I would go outside on a chilly day and I would think about all of the pure happiness in my childhood. I would sit outside just as I’m doing now and I would think about the first cigarette that ever touched my lips at the age of 14. I would think about how it tasted and how the menthol mixed with the cold air. And even though it sent chills down my body, it gave me the greatest sensation of happiness.

I’ve always loved smoking menthol cigarettes on cold days.

It’s always been able to bring me back to the time when I never knew what being hurt was really, really like. It brought me back to the time when I was still innocent. I hadn’t had enough time with myself to convince myself that I’m crazy. I hadn’t dealt with enough situations to learn what anxiety was really like. I hadn’t been stabbed in the back and in the heart so many times that depression became something i was use to. I hadn’t yet been able to tell my father that I was gay, for him to cut me out of his life. And to disappointment my mother because i just couldn’t make something of myself . I hadn’t yet been able to become the worst example of a role model for my sister, due to a lifetime of bad decisions.

I hadn’t yet taken a blade across my thighs and seen my own blood pour out like a falling cup of tea; only to leave me scars to remember. I wasn’t able to drive yet, so I never got behind the wheel and thought about what the after life Would be like whenever I crashed into the side of the bridge and fell into the water. The only medicines that I knew were for the headaches i don’t ever remember having.

The only thing that I knew about heartbreak was that my mother was constantly going through it but I never really understood her pain until now. I never really understood what it was like for my dad to be so bipolar that he ended up in the mental institution, and now I question If I should be there beside him. I never understood the need for my sister to have the attention of all the boys when we were growing up. And now I need the attention of all the girls I can get, because I just can’t stand feeling of being alone.

I’m sitting on this bench inhaling the same menthol cigarette into my lungs as I did when I was still innocent. Waiting for all of my anxiety and depression to be washed away by the sensation of that almost forgotten feeling. But it doesn’t. It’s almost like that time i was having sex and i knew that a climax was just on the other side of giving in to the emotions that were taking over me and letting go of all of the thoughts in my head. But my brain just wouldn’t slow down for even a second to spare me just a moment of something that felt good. So it never came either.

I’ve neglected to believe that people can be born evil my entire life

I’ve always said to myself and anyone who asked my opinion that “ people don’t mean to hurt other people”

But I’m sitting at a table in 60 degree weather drinking coffee by myself.

Coffee that was suppose to be shared over laughter and deep meaningful conversation

Coffee that i was suppose to one day drink and think about the night we wasted hours away together.

I’m drinking this coffee and instead of sitting across from you and admiring your mesmerizing brown eyes, I’m staring at the parking lot and searching for your truck that would probably never pull in.

Not while i was there at least.

I take another sip as I’m dialing your number to see if maybe you got stuck in traffic even though it’s 11 o’clock at night, and you told me that you were already there.

I give you the benefit of the doubt.

The phone rings, but i know deep down that you aren’t picking up.

Half way through this very large cup of coffee that i really doubt i need so late at night, i decide to get in my car.

I call again, hoping maybe you would pick up and tell me that you were sorry, you had to run home because you forgot something and you would be right there.

You didn’t.

I’m driving home with my left hand on the wheel and my right hand still holding the stupid coffee that i really couldn’t afford in the first place.

My drive home is filled with thoughts.

Half of them are ways that i can completely cut you out of my life without you even noticing and the other half are excuses as to why you aren’t answering your phone that you consistently have in your hand.

I put down the cup, and i call again.

Wanting to tell you that i was almost home and that the least you could’ve done was call to tell me that you didn’t want the company.

Once again, no answer.

At this point I’m assuming that you’re probably with someone else.

Did you promise them coffee too and just decide that they would be a better date?

I’m pulling into the same parking spot i always go to and drinking the last sips of the overly expensive coffee that i didn’t need and i call you one last time.

Part of me wants you to pick up so i can tell you how pissed off i am that you stood me up and the other part of me knows that you probably don’t care how i feel.

So now I’m laying on the couch by myself, wide the fuck awake because i went out of my way to get a stupid cup of coffee with you, and you weren’t even there.