#jowoos

   it’d take a lot of fingers to count on the amount of parties skye’d been to , and it’s always the same fucking thing. which would be fine.. but, it’s starting to get too loud and the room’s starting to spin and faces are starting to get blurry and skye’s starting to suffocate. 

ironically enough it’s the smoke that fills her lungs that allows her to breathe , away from the crowd, confined in the solitude of the relatively neat bathroom.. she of course, even in her daze managed to climb up a staircase and find the master that was fortunately untouched by the heathens drowning their sorrows in cheap booze. not that she was doing any better. insurmountable tolerance in hand, you’d only imagine the empty bottles, the burnt ash and a swallowed pill or two that had her stumbling over the sink for some sort of stability. 

she was fine, though. it’s just classic skye is what everyone would think once they saw her down shot after shot, next day showing up to class as though she’d been tucked into bed at 9pm. so , yeah.. she was fine— she’d be fine. it’s what her mother taught her after all. 

she chuckles weakly at the thought, body turning to lift herself up onto the counter, groaning at each failed attempt before she finally plopped on. hands reaching for the steal case stashed into the inside pocket of her jacket, fancy engraved lighter along with it and she sighs once again. wonders how her “family” was so intricately woven into her that no amount of the premium escapes money could buy ever even worked. she chuckles again before the tip of the rolled joint settles between her lips and she lights it up. 

the marble below her still vibrates on account of the blaring music, but still, it feels calm— the perfect balance of not having to stay at home alone and not having to deal with the constant chatter around her.