This is for the Writing Challenge Contest, at the Review Game forum. First time entering, though admittedly, it's not my best work.

Prompt: in transit


A Visit to Neverland

December 2, 2009

I stepped off the train, listening to the voices of the crowds all around me. I felt alone, probably seemed very alone, too. To be honest, I was used to it. You could call it independence, I might call it defective.

It was loud, and the station was, no doubt, crowded. I kept my pace quick as I walked towards nowhere. I wasn't one to stay in one place, I also wasn't one to travel alone, but I had no choice. Faces drifted past me, as I curiously wondered whether I would recognize anyone. Nope, no one. Surprise.

I dragged my luggage out with me, found a cab and went to a hotel. "It'll only be a week, I'll be back in no time,". That's what I told them. I can make my own choices now, do something for myself for once.

The first day went by fast, so fast I came back to my room and slept all the way through. I'd already met some people. Admittedly, they weren't the type of friends your parents would want you to have. But, wait, hasn't this happened before? I'm contemplating it, replaying old memories. Of course, that would never happen again. It's like a separate life, as if it never really happened to me, but to someone else I know. The next day, I'm back out there, wandering the streets, exploring the city, I have a lot of good pictures, and some not. I don't remember how I got home, but I think Jake helped me back. I was drunk. It was really only my third time ever being drunk. It was strange, but how can I pretend that I didn't love it? This, I can easily say, made me love summer even more.

I started to see them more often, giving myself less time to do any work, too busy in hangover No-Man's Land or this new kind of vertigo I'd found. That, I might inform you, is also called intoxication, drunkenness, under the influence, pissed, bashed, plastered, tipsy, wasted.

I hate myself for saying it, but I love it. Or, rather, I'm thinking it, so maybe I can't hate myself. Not just yet. I try to convince myself otherwise by thinking about the bad; the throwing up, the hangovers, stuff like that. Now, I was never a bad child, no drugs no drinking for the longest time. Not even a coffee, lest it destroy my brain cells and render me not nearly as smart as I need to be to succeed. But still, throughout my whole childhood, I'd wanted more, wanted to go out in the world. And now I know, that everywhere is just the same as where I used to be. They may seem beautiful in magazines and pictures, but it's the same. Same people, same lifestyles, different language, or religion, maybe. But what does that matter? It's a life choice.

Here's where things get sticky. The next week went by in a stupor, and all of a sudden I was different. I can't explain it, I couldn't explain it to my parents either. Tears streaming down my face, chemicals, more than one, permanently set into my brain. I was a mess, and that's what I'm becoming again. I suppose, that while I was drunk, I didn't have time to say no, tell them that I used to have a major problem, but there it went. Cliché, oh it's so cliché, but it was a part of me that I guess, never left. The dark cloud in my mind slowly grew, I couldn't think for myself anymore. Snort a line, skip a line.

Unless you've been there before, you can't understand the feeling that you get while you're doing it.

Shame, hatred,

anger, ecstasy,

Happiness, depression,

Smile, laugh,

Fly, scream.

-

More, more?

Yes, Why?

I need it, You do?

Yes. But I can't…

You have to. I won't.

You gotta lose some to win some.

So, now I'm battling my new found problems. Choking on a promise that's disappeared behind the rum and Lemon cello. How did I get here again? Why is it that I never see what's changing while it's happening, but it's so clear when I'm too deep in? Today I'm leaving. I've said my byes to Jake, Leah and Vince. I'm done with them, aren't I? Eyes dark, lacking sleep and that liveliness I used to have. I stand in the busy train station, giving a half-hearted bye, stepping onto the train, a different person than I was before. Is this just another part of my life? I won't see them again, won't hear from them anymore. I can just leave them here, in this town, but what about this addiction? I lay my head back, hoping that I can just sleep this all off, oh, please let it all go away.

I wake up later, to a dream of how my life used to be; as if it were a representation of what I want, but can't have. A faraway thing that I can't ever reach.