Midnight Smiles

How can a man end his own misery?

I disappeared.

I just disappeared from my own life. I vanished. I stopped existing.

How?

If you think, I took the drug, that I started taking it again, you're wrong. I may be an i***t, but loosing what's mine (well what's mine in my messed up head and not in reality) is out of the question. There's no way I was going to loose Ry. She may be... Just there. She might be part of my life. But to me she was more. She was more than just participating in my life. She was starring it. And there's no way, I was going to loose that.

So no. I didn't take drugs.

In some alternative universe where I have whatever I want, doing the mistake of taking drugs again, ruins everything. I can't afford that. Even though it's not real.

What I did is easier. It is more reasonable.

I left my house.

Of course you can't call that's not reasonable, but comparing it to the fact that I could take my drugs again, it was.

I just left.

I didn't look back. Of course, I would be back again. But for now... I just wanted to be alone. It is dangerous to leave a man like me.... Alone with my mind. Especially after that kind of fight I had with one of the persons I care the most. But I could trust myself. Or not?

A frustrated sight left me as I rubbed my face with my hands harshly. I was walking down the road in the middle of the night. Some part of me was begging to go and see Ry. But she was still recovering. My presence... My dark thoughts wouldn't do any good to her. She would feel it. And in the end she would get worried about me and try to cheer me up, instead of taking care of herself. I should be the one taking care of her, not the opposite.

So I just walked and walked and walked.

I let myself get lost in the darkness of the night. My eyes looked up at the sky. It was crystal clear with millions of stars looking down at me. Some of them smiling... Some of the frowning.

Weird how I always saw the stars as white paint. Like a careless painter just threw white paint everywhere not caring what a mess he was doing, but that carelessness made a masterpiece. It was my way of convincing myself, that being messed up can be beautiful.

But that was long ago.

Now, I just look at the sky.... And get lost. As long as I can remember, I always loved the sky. It didn't matter if there were could on it, if there were stars, the moon or the sun. It was just the sky... It kind of made me think it was like a human. Having its own moods.

Changing... Being happy, cry, smile, frown... Be angry... It was weird how I lived the storms... Maybe because it matched the ones I had in my head. Everything was messed up in my head. Everything...

It felt empty inside me, and that scared me. How could I just forget about all of this? I wanted it to be gone. This sick emptiness. But I have ran out of ideas. How can a man end his own misery?

My hand reached the phone on my back pocket. I unlocked it, and searched through my music. It was one of my many escapes.

"Say no more, I'm out the door, the day is gone

Lick my wounds and face the tunes to the call

Five days done, the mood is swung, I'm moving on

I puff my chest, come up for air and take a breath"

"Night People" by You Me At Six played as I smiled.

Night people indeed.

I get addicted to the songs I hear. They fit my mood, my situation so well it surprises me. It makes me feel weird, but understood at the same time. It involves screaming, shouting... Whispering... But that's how people express their emotions. It's like if you use a normal voice, what you say is so lifeless. Like the words come out of a dead body.

Or at least that's how I see it.

I'm hurt. There's no way I'm going to deny it. What's the point after all? It's like playing with your own mind. And I have enough voices in my head to play with me. I don't need to do that myself.

And like the super weirdo I was, I lied on the ground, in the middle of the street, not caring if a car passes by and can drive over me. My eyes are glued to the sky. That's the only thing I want to see right now. Faces didn't matter to me. People lie.

People die. People cry.

Funny how they are and are not the same people who do those. And everything goes around just one thing.

Time.

But sometimes, time feels like it doesn't exist at all. It feels like it is just a huge illusion made up by humans to make their life easier. How can it exist? It is and it's not there.

My question is: Will time heal me?

Or should I look somewhere else for healing?

Ry's face popped in front of my eyes and I just smiled. What time will do to what we have now?

My phone ringed.

"Jake, where are you?" Jeremy's voice said. I smiled sadly, but didn't answer. I couldn't find it in me. "Jake, bro...I know what happened..." He continued after he realized that I wasn't going to talk. "Aiden is still a kid. He doesn't know what he is talking about. You know how he is. He is just tired of seeing you in this condition."

"I've voices in my head..." My voice came out low and calm. Somehow I was feeling very numb. "I have gone insane Jeremy."

"Don't let the voices drive you insane, Jake."

"Only some of them can drive. Most of them are underage."

"You're an idiot." I could tell from his voice he was smiling. That made me feel better somehow. How was that possible? I mean feeling better in such a short period. It is weird. "Go home, Jake."

"I will think about it." With that I hung up the phone.

I felt something tapping my shoulder, and a face blocked the view of the sky. It was an old man with deep blue eyes. He kept tapping with his cane on my shoulder. "What are you doing down there my son?" he asked. I frowned at him.

"Meditating?" I suggested. He chuckled and sat next to me. Well this is weird...

I sat up and looked at his face. It had wrinkles everywhere, but it was a warm face. That kind of face that usually comes to mind when you think of a good grandpa. He was a little bit fat but it was barely unrecognizable. A black hat, like those republic ones was on his head, as huge glasses covered half of his face. It was funny actually. It kind of reminded me Santa Claus.

"Hard life?" He asked turning his eyes at me. I kept staring at him and nodded. The old man let out a sigh looking up at the sky thinking of God knows what. "Girl problems?" He asked again.

"Partly yes. Mostly life problems." I answered a little taken back. My eyes left his face and looked up at the sky. A small smile came to my lips and I had no idea why it was there.

"Life is all about the problems son." The old man said. His words made me look again at him. He was still staring in front of him. But I noticed a small side smile in his lips. "It's all about how you solve your problems." He took a deep breath and looked at me. "The way we solve our problems makes us who we are." The smile turned into a smirk. "Do you like who you are, my son? The way you solve your problems?"

Well that got me. I was being a p***y, trying to solve my problems the easy way, which didn't solve my problems at all. It just made me a drug addicted. But I changed that. Didn't I? I mean... I hadn't taken drug since...

Since I met Ry.

"Did you find your solution, boy?" The old man asked and I just frowned. She... I don't know if this is wrong or not. It is weird. Or I don't know.

Ry is my solution.

"My solution causes more problems, than already are." I breathed out.

"Then find an other way to approach to your solution. Things aren't always easy my son." He got up with the help of the cane. "But things aren't always difficult as well."

"And what does that supposed to mean?" Now I'm totally confused.

The old man bent down on my eye level and smirked at my face. "The funny thing..." He ignored my question. "Is that you decide how your solution will be. How do you want yours to be, young man? Easy?" He straightened and started to walk away. "Or difficult?"