And it was loud

Rewind to 10 years ago. Just before midnight…

Cut classes. Slept till after sunset. Again. Had more that enough sleep but somehow, I don’t feel rested. My hands shake as I turn the shower knob. It might be the hangover. It might be my turbulent mind. It might be the hormones playing with my insides. I’m 17 years old and I don’t know what to make of my life. Bullsh!t, not this demon of a thought again.

I get off of the shower after infinity has passed. I’m dripping wet. I light a stick for supper and stare at the mirror. I look good enough to eat. That’s the ego talking. I don’t mind. I force my hands through my closet and grab something to wear. I put on my windbreaker. It’s a slow night. I get out of my pad and I’m greeted by a full moon and a cold breeze. Nice.

I walk four blocks to the convenience store and get a six-pack. I’m starting to relax. It’s going to be okay. I’m young. I have demons in my head but my brain works, and not always in fcuked up ways. I’m alive.

My feet take me to a bridge for some reason. I sit on the edge, my feet dangling 30 meters above a loudly gushing, murky river. It might be the sewers. Who am I to decide what it is? I cut classes again.

I open another can. Decadence. But hell, it’s going to be okay. It’s a breezy night, I’m young, I’m alive.

Suddenly, I hear the sound of thunder.