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Bottle

The bottle finally shatters.

Broken glass everywhere.

Just as I finish writing in my journal the last piece of my thoughts, I close it and lie in bed. Do I feel better? Do I genuinely feel happier? The scary answer is "no". Writing my thoughts doesn't make me feel better, it just makes me feel more alone. Every passing day feels worse and worse because it's just a reminder of no matter how many feelings I attempt to process or go through; I will go through the motions alone.

I start to turn on the radio and one of my favorite songs comes on, I used to dance all the time when I was younger; perhaps eight or nine, but I stopped. I've stopped singing, dancing, and writing. I've stopped doing everything because it just seems like there's no point in it all. Why bother at all? Suddenly, I find that my hands and feet are trapped in the music and my whole entirety follows; I've found my passion again.

The only downside is that the fact still remains that I am empty. All the passion in the world won't change the fact that I'm still completely and utterly alone. The walls start to cave in and tears start to stream down my face as I move. The worst part, I'm not physically alone; I'm with my family but no one bothers to understand or attempt to speak to me, so I feel like there's no point in trying to speak to them as I won't be understood either way.

The worst part about not actually being alone but feeling alone is that it makes you feel even more isolated; like you're stuck back in high school, unless you had a good experience. Personally, mine just involved being pushed out of the closet and broken promises.

When I'm dancing in those two-five minutes, I feel infinitely better. But when I stop, reality comes crashing down and I feel like I'm in hell again. I just want everything to end and to stop. I used to go on late night drives all the time to calm myself down, and it was just me, my music, occasionally a friend, and the open road; I felt truly free.

Now, I can't even start my car without worrying about how much gas is in it. It doesn't matter though; there's so much else going on that even if it started, the music would be limited and it's not the same. Nothing is the same anymore. I'm almost sad that when I had the chance I didn't jump off of that bridge; I'd give anything to go back to that day; changing one or two things, but I know what I'd do and I'd do it right.

But we can only move forward in time, and not backwards which sucks. We all have moments in our life that we would love to go back and relive them if we could; moments where we felt contempt or happy or moments that we would change if we could.

My mind starts to think about these moments and I begin to break down crying as I know that no matter how hard I try or hope, I cannot change time. I am stuck in my loneliness until someone walks into my life.

Just then I get a text from an old friend, he wants to smoke weed and watch funny TV and hangout. I feel ecstatic and I agree. He comes to the door bearing five joints, a six pack of Corona, and his lucky lighter. We lie on the bed and I turn on the TV and we start to smoke and reminisce.

It hits me just then; I know nothing about him. We truly don't know all that much about each other. That is one thing I fucking hate about relationships now, of any sort. You truly don't know the other person. I ask what his favorite color is and he seems stunned by the question for a moment; almost like no one has asked him that before. He then asks my favorite color and we just start to ask/tell all these random facts/details about us that we never knew before.

I start to feel more whole and realize that I can do that with almost anyone I can stand to be in the same room with; which the list is short. But when I am in the room alone with someone I can stand, I can get to know every single thing about them and we can connect and it feels better. Now whenever we hangout I can watch their eyes light up a little more whenever they see their favorite color while we're driving.

We decide to go on a walk and he brings the last bottle and I just have the barley lit joint. When we go outside, I look up at all the stars and just feel more alive than I have in a while; which is saying something. It is just me and him and an open sky and what feels like infinity. He chugs the rest of the beer and asks what he should do with the empty bottle and I say, "Throw it on the ground and break it." He looks at me like I have lost my mind and I reply once more with the same response: "Throw it on the ground and break it." He shrugs and does as I ask and seems puzzled. I pull out my phone and turn on the flashlight and we smoke some more and we over-analzye the destruction that lie beneath our feet.

He asks why I asked him to break it and I respond, "We only view destruction as a bad thing because we are so used to everything working and being whole. When things are destroyed, they leave behind interesting details and beauty that is often missed." I then point to this one shard that resembles what appears to be a heart. The combination of force and gravity just so happened to make this shape; and that's why I love destruction so much, it almost can never be replicated.

The worst part about destruction, is when you have to go through it internally alone. That's the most dangerous kind because the fallout is damaging and if you don't have the right support system, you can find yourself surrounded by darkness and not knowing how to get out. But if you have someone you trust and can share in that destruction, you can see chaos in a different manner; like a shattered bottle you can see every intricate detail and instead of being afraid, you can embrace it.