The night is darker than you expected, yet lighter than you want it to be. You want the cloak of night to conceal your mascara-blacken, tear-stained face, since the curtain formed by the hair that your boyfriend persuaded you to bleach blonde isn't doing the job. You need the black cloak to cover the broken heel on your stiletto, which makes you stumble down the road like you've been shot, which have you, metaphorically, since your boyfriend shoved you out of his car somewhere outside of Vegas, since you'd served your purpose to him. You don't know where you are, and some would call you lost, which you have decided you are, in more ways than one, since you don't know where you are, exactly, but you also appear to have misplaced who the real version of you is somewhere along the way to where you are now.
You can't quite remember where you saw her last, but that's okay, since you've forgotten a lot of things. You're struggling to remember your boyfriend's name, or the name of the hotel you last stayed at, even though you know your boyfriend wanted to stay there because they sold his favorite type of vodka, which he weaseled into your head was your favorite too, even though he knew that you didn't like the taste, but it made him angry if you didn't like it so you pretended and drank it anyways. You also seem to have forgotten where you lived as a kid, or what your parent's names were, or maybe are, since you haven't seen them in so long they could be or not be, since your boyfriend said that people like you and him don't contact their parents, since it's not what people that live like you do, do. You can't live like that anymore, though, since you were abandoned on this highway by your connection to that world, which, in your horror, you realize has drowned out the simplest memory of all.
You seem to forgotten your real name, as it has been suffocated by the glitz and glam of your, now former, world. It was suffocated to nonexistence by the sugary pet names like "honey" and "babe" that everyone called everyone, since no one really had the right name for anyone to remember once business was done and the drinks were poured. Even if you were to start a new world for yourself, there is no way, since you can't remember anything about yourself, since your boyfriend made up a new cover story, a new name, a new face, a new look, for each town your car rolled into. You've forgotten which story was really your own, so you do the only logical thing to do in your state of mind. You collapse by the side of the highway, and cry, just like the you that got lost along the way has been doing for years. You let the fog envelope you like the fog that has clouded your mind for the past five years, and let the headlights from the fast-moving cars flicker over you, hoping that someone will see you, for once, even without your mask and the glitz and glam from the life you led up until now, which has also gotten lost along the way to where you are now.
A/N: Thank you to everyone who read this. It's something a little different for me, since I tried out a new style (long sentences with lots and lots of commas XD), and I would love comments on the style, as well as any details that would make the story more angsty, dark, tragic, or whatever you want to call it. I would love to hear your opinions, as this is one story I'd like to improve and make better.