A - Z Challenge - G
Green
This is green. It must be fucking green. Fine, there’s a slight shade of blue. It could be turquoise. But judging from the first look it’s fucking green. Green like the leaves of a tree. Or grass. Grass is green. Not that I ever see much of it. I see gray. Black. Pavements. Tar. Hot black tar. But this is green. It is. Maybe turquoise. I wonder if pharmaceutical companies do that shit on purpose. Give pills some stupid colouring so those poor wackos start philosophizing about it. About greens and blues and turquoises. As if it would keep anyone from eating that shit. Kill themselves. It won’t stop anyone from trying to figure out if 20 pills are enough not to wake up again before they decide that it’s safer to pop the whole bottle’s content. Just to make sure. Because if not you might wake up a day later, knowing you royally fucked up. And that’s even more depressing than just dying. After philosophizing. Not that I do. I’m not philosophizing, analyzing or fantasizing. I’m just trying to make a point. My point being: pills should be white. Just white. It’s not like they make you happy just because they’re yellow, pink, brown, red or green. So why is this green? Sorry, turquoise. We agreed on turquoise. Because it’s not blue. You’re a fucking turquoise pill. I got it. I will keep that in mind, really. No more slips. I will stop thinking of blues and greens. Now. Really. Right now.
Her eyes - those were blue. Not ocean blue. Or royal blue. Maya blue doesn’t match it either. Dodger blue. That one is close. Really close. But it’s still not it. Maybe I am phiolosophizing. Am I? God. I’m fucked up. I’m really fucked up. And I think I’m having a headache. It’s throbbing and I think I can hear it. It’s like a buzz. I shouldn’t have downed that bottle of whisky. Alcohol is a fucking pain in the ass. It’s no solution. But no alcohol ain’t no solution, either. Do I sound like a child? Like a fucking teenager? Does it even matter? Alcohol may be a pain in the ass but it kept me from falling apart, didn’t it? I’m not falling apart. Sure it made me sentimental. I’m not really sentimental. It had me crying like a baby, sobbing so hard that I wasn’t even breathing anymore. Okay, I was breathing. It was erratic and loud and heavy. Truth is, I had been crying before. But that was silent. Just a few tears slipping out of the inner corners of my eyes, tracing my cheeks. But the alcohol made it all come out. The first half of the bottle anyway. After that I started feeling numb. Really numb. When you think about it it’s actually kinda depressing. Cause numb is that point where nothing matters anymore. All the feeling is gone. The floor isn’t really cold anymore, my ass doesn’t hurt like it did three hours ago from sitting on the hard wood. I should get fucking carpets. Fucking green carpets. Or blue. Turquoise. Wait. I don’t need carpets anymore. I’m past that. I don’t bargain.
I should just pop those fucking pills right now. Just get it over with. But it’s so good not to feel anything. It’s so good just to stare at the green that’s sitting on my palm. To think and then forget what the hell it was I thought about. It’s that special kind of calm. Almost blissful. It’s quiet and except for the hammering in my head and that churning in my stomach it feels kinda good.
It’s liberating, that feeling as if you’re floating on air. My eyelids are heavy. I have to close them. Just for a second. A moment. It’s good. It’s better. Maybe I could stay like this way for a while. Just leaning against the kitchen counter. I’m sleepy. Just sleepy. For a moment I want to stop thinking, stop sitting, staring, remembering. I shouldn’t. But I can’t fight it. I know when morning comes the sun will hit my face. I’m past the point of opening my eyes again. My hand is no longer holding the pill. Exhaustion takes over my body. Sleep is here. It’ll have to wait until tomorrow.
This is green. It must be fucking green. Fine, there’s a slight shade of blue. It could be turquoise. But judging from the first look it’s fucking green. Green like the leaves of a tree. Or grass. Grass is green. Not that I ever see much of it. I see gray. Black. Pavements. Tar. Hot black tar. But this is green. It is. Maybe turquoise. I wonder if pharmaceutical companies do that shit on purpose. Give pills some stupid colouring so those poor wackos start philosophizing about it. About greens and blues and turquoises. As if it would keep anyone from eating that shit. Kill themselves. It won’t stop anyone from trying to figure out if 20 pills are enough not to wake up again before they decide that it’s safer to pop the whole bottle’s content. Just to make sure. Because if not you might wake up a day later, knowing you royally fucked up. And that’s even more depressing than just dying. After philosophizing. Not that I do. I’m not philosophizing, analyzing or fantasizing. I’m just trying to make a point. My point being: pills should be white. Just white. It’s not like they make you happy just because they’re yellow, pink, brown, red or green. So why is this green? Sorry, turquoise. We agreed on turquoise. Because it’s not blue. You’re a fucking turquoise pill. I got it. I will keep that in mind, really. No more slips. I will stop thinking of blues and greens. Now. Really. Right now.
Her eyes - those were blue. Not ocean blue. Or royal blue. Maya blue doesn’t match it either. Dodger blue. That one is close. Really close. But it’s still not it. Maybe I am phiolosophizing. Am I? God. I’m fucked up. I’m really fucked up. And I think I’m having a headache. It’s throbbing and I think I can hear it. It’s like a buzz. I shouldn’t have downed that bottle of whisky. Alcohol is a fucking pain in the ass. It’s no solution. But no alcohol ain’t no solution, either. Do I sound like a child? Like a fucking teenager? Does it even matter? Alcohol may be a pain in the ass but it kept me from falling apart, didn’t it? I’m not falling apart. Sure it made me sentimental. I’m not really sentimental. It had me crying like a baby, sobbing so hard that I wasn’t even breathing anymore. Okay, I was breathing. It was erratic and loud and heavy. Truth is, I had been crying before. But that was silent. Just a few tears slipping out of the inner corners of my eyes, tracing my cheeks. But the alcohol made it all come out. The first half of the bottle anyway. After that I started feeling numb. Really numb. When you think about it it’s actually kinda depressing. Cause numb is that point where nothing matters anymore. All the feeling is gone. The floor isn’t really cold anymore, my ass doesn’t hurt like it did three hours ago from sitting on the hard wood. I should get fucking carpets. Fucking green carpets. Or blue. Turquoise. Wait. I don’t need carpets anymore. I’m past that. I don’t bargain.
I should just pop those fucking pills right now. Just get it over with. But it’s so good not to feel anything. It’s so good just to stare at the green that’s sitting on my palm. To think and then forget what the hell it was I thought about. It’s that special kind of calm. Almost blissful. It’s quiet and except for the hammering in my head and that churning in my stomach it feels kinda good.
It’s liberating, that feeling as if you’re floating on air. My eyelids are heavy. I have to close them. Just for a second. A moment. It’s good. It’s better. Maybe I could stay like this way for a while. Just leaning against the kitchen counter. I’m sleepy. Just sleepy. For a moment I want to stop thinking, stop sitting, staring, remembering. I shouldn’t. But I can’t fight it. I know when morning comes the sun will hit my face. I’m past the point of opening my eyes again. My hand is no longer holding the pill. Exhaustion takes over my body. Sleep is here. It’ll have to wait until tomorrow.