The pains still intense. It eats at you. It burns holes through you. It devours you whole.

You need alcohol. It soothes the pain, replacing one burn for a much more pleasant one. Too bad all your booze is sitting pretty at home, where you can't get at it when you need it most.

All you can do is sit there and think. Think about your misery. Think about your pain. Think about your anguish. It would be depression if you weren't already depressed. Though you have come to terms with this, you had to since it didn't go away after the first few months. Not that She caused it, it was around long before then.

So there you sit, lost in your thoughts. All you can do is think about that day. The day where it all went wrong. This isn't going to help your mental state at all.

...

What. The. Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

What just happened? How did it happen? What are you going to do?

She smiles meekly. You have no idea what the fuck you are supposed to do. Your world view of the world was just destroyed. You look at Her, but still have no idea what to do or say.

"We can still be friends right, because I still want to be. I like you, I'm just not attracted to you anymore. This always happens, I get attracted to some one, then after a few weeks it's gone."

What the fuck. You really have no idea what to say now. Only one thing comes to mind. Well actually that is bullshit. A torrent of things is currently raging through your head, but you are still dumbstruck. One thing manages to slip out of you mouth.

"Yeah, we can still be friends."

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Okay."

She smiles meekly again. This time she stands, ready to leave. She makes you stand. You are not sure why, but then it hits you.

Well more like She hits you. Metaphorically of course. She gives you a hug, which tears you up inside. It fills you with confused thoughts. Whether or not She realizes this is unknown to you.

She leaves. You just stare off into the distance.

You sit for quite a while, not able to think about anything for the first time ever.

You crawl into bed and die.

...

Suicide would be a fantastic option. All your pain would be over. Just a quick jump, a pull of the finger, a slash of a knife, and mouth full of pills and it would be all over. All the pain would be gone and you would never have any pain again.

You could leave this miserable, fucked up world. Existence sucks. There is something fascinating about it though. Observing this fucked up world keeps you from ending it. Morbid curiosity of where the hell this is all going is just too interesting.

Besides, if you kill yourself you are just taking the cowards way out. You know that you are too much of a 'man' to do that. You can bear through it. You could die at any moment from any number of things, why end it now? You can wait until nature takes its course.

That little ball you have curled up in on your bed is good for now. All you have is yourself, so you just hold on to that.

God dammit.

You need to get Her out of your fucking head.

Fuck Her, you don't need Her, you don't love Her, you fucking hate Her, the fucking bitch.

But it's not true. Maybe you don't love Her, but you don't hate Her. You feel like you need Her. You feel like She needs to be there, always. Is that love?

You feel so desperate.

How long has it been? It has to be, what, two weeks now? Do you even remember what happened during those two weeks? You try and think back, but only remember a blur of nothing and fractured images of you attempting to ask other girls out. You seem to have an impeccable knack for asking out girls who are already in relationships. At least that is what they tell you. You are done with that, you are sick of failure and feeling even worse.

So what now? What the fuck are you supposed to do? Suicide seems like the optimal choice, but you would never do that. Suicide is for the weaklings who can't put up with the pain. You have a better idea, self destruction.

Self destruction is so easy and it may eventually lead to death.After all, self destruction is immensely more fun than self improvement. Self improvement requires actual work and sacrifice. Self destruction requires having fun. Even then, once you destroy yourself, you get to have an actual challenge in building yourself back up. You deserve a real challenge in life so self destruction it is, but which method should you choose?

You already drink, but not to excess. That would be an easy choice, but an expensive one. You also won't have any alcohol until the end of the month. Casual sex would be a very fun one, but even though you think you could pull it off, you know you don't have the balls to take it that far. You might as well go with the one you have been contemplating, smoking.

Smoking seems like a very easy thing to pick up. Literally. All you have to do is pick up a cigarette, light it and smoke. Simple. Though you are not completely sold on the idea. You need to try a cigarette before you go out and buy your own pack. After all, if you hate it that is money you could have spent on booze.

So you go and try and find someone to bum a cigarette off of. It wasn't too hard, you know a few people who smoke, so you go down to the tables outside to try your first cigarette. You get handed a menthol Marlboro and light it up.

You inhale. Sort of. You only bring the smoke into your mouth. It tastes good. You are not sure if you should actually inhale the smoke. You are pretty sure that is the appropriate way to smoke, but even though this is a way to kill yourself, cancer sounds pretty shitty.

So you make a vow, you are going to pick up smoking regardless of the complaints your friends lodge against you. You go grab that one girl, the crazy one who, for the first few weeks of knowing her, scared the crap out of you. You know she wanted to tag along and get some cigarettes as well so you let her.

So you drive to the gas station. You go inside and stare at the giant wall of cigarettes. It is daunting. Luckily you know exactly what you are going to buy. You get in line and wait your turn. You ask for the pack you want and go back to your vehicle. You are not sure what to do now, but then she asks you to take her to the bank so that solve that problem.

You take her to the bank and she does what she needed to do. You then go back out to your vehicle to smoke. You open your pack and take one out. You really suck with a lighter though, so she gives you a few pointers. You smoke and she starts the conversation.

"So why are you picking up smoking."

You have vowed not to lie, something you soon will change but not right now. "I wanted to do something bad for me, you know, this just seemed like the best decision."

"I know what you mean."

The conversation continues but what follows is inconsequential. Most of the talking is done by her; she tells you about her shitty life and while most lives are shitty, hers is even more so. The more you talk to people, the more you realize how much life sucks. You feel bad for her, though she still kind of scares and disgusts you.

You both finish smoking and get back into the vehicle. The conversation continues all the way back to campus. You part ways and try and decide what the hell you are going to do now. First and foremost, you are going to go wash your hands and brush your teeth. You can deal with the smoking, but not the smell on your hands and breath.

You vow to only smoke one cigarette a day. You refuse to become one of 'those' people. You will never be a pack-a-day smoker. It is terrible for you and is way too expensive. You are a poor college student, you can't afford a pack of cigarettes a day, hell you can barely afford a pack of cigarettes.

The week kicks off. You start going to certain classes a bit early so you have time to finish a cigarette beforehand. You secretly hope some of your friends will catch you in the act so you can explain yourself, but it doesn't happen. At the start, the only person who catches you is one of Her friends and since you are not talking to Her, you don't really talk to her.

You also find yourself sniffing your fingers a lot. You know you are doing this for two reasons. Your hand smells funny now and you find that strangely fascinating. You also want people to ask you what the hell are you doing, but no one does. It doesn't really matter though, you are actually enjoying smoking, a shock, so whether or not people argue with you about it you are still enjoying yourself.

The next day leaves you with too short of a break between classes, so you wait until you are finished for the day. You don't smoke while you walk, instead you scurry as fast as you can back to your building. Once you get there, you don't smoke. You go about your day as usual. You find yourself sitting alone in your room, bored and lonely as usual. That's when you get the urge.

You head downstairs to the area far enough away from the building to smoke. You sit down and light the cigarette you pull from the pack. You find this strangely relaxing. You are not sure if this is such a great idea. You were told when you started that smoking was a social thing. So many people all feeding their disgusting habits have nothing better to do than talk while they smoke. You don't go with this aspect though. You take this time to sit around and think.

Being alone with your thoughts isn't necessarily a good idea. You find yourself thinking about your life and all of its shit. All of its good as well. You fluctuate moods while jumping between dispositions. You swim through your mind. You debate the finer points of your mental state, which is still confused and frustrated. Then she walks up.

It is that one girl that lives on your floor. You think she is gorgeous, but she has a strange personality. Not a bad one, just unusual. What she does frustrates you. It also doesn't help that you happened to be thinking about a particularly bad memory at the time and your mood reflected that.

"What are you doing?" she says in an accusing tone.

"Uh, smoking?" you are not sure how to respond, since what you are doing is fairly obvious.

"That is filthy, why are you doing that?"

You have a loose idea as to why, but you are not going to explain that to her.

"It's complicated."

"I have family that have died from smoking, you need to quit."

Now you are getting angry. How dare she criticize you. She has no idea how fucked up you are in the head and what a fucked up idea this is. This is the first time you realize how strange this idea you have come up with is. That maybe self destruction isn't the answer. You swat those idea away for now. This is your life and she doesn't know you well enough to tell you what to do.

"You don't know the details and I am not going to explain them to you. I am doing this for a very personal reason and your complaints are only pissing me off."

That leaves her momentarily speechless. You didn't really mean to snap at her, but you did so now you have to live with it. Fuck you are fucked in the head right now.

"Fine," and with that she walks off.

Fuck. Good job, someone cares slightly about you and you push them away. You know you have problems getting close to people, pushing them away is not going to help. You sigh and continue smoking. Not that there is anything else to do. The burning end reaches the filter so you put it out and go back upstairs.

You try and go about the rest of your day. All that happens is you get more and more depressed. Everything is looking bleaker. You decide to break your one rule, you go down stairs again and smoke another cigarette. Good job, not even two days in and you break the only rule you set for yourself. Not that you care, this is getting you out of there and away from where She has been.

You can't help but think of Her. You don't think of Her like that this time. This time you try and figure out what you need to do to get Her out of your head. You know it is time, She is gone and you need to do something else now. You don't think of anything good, but you know that just thinking about moving on is a good step.

Another day passes. Another day of pain and frustration. Another day of your friends complaining about you smoking. Another day of smoking more than one cigarette, then proceeding to vigorously wash your hands and brush your teeth. Another day of contemplating.

God damn you hate people. Not any specific people, just people in general. They are a plague upon the earth. It is incredibly frustrating, being surrounded by people all the time. The only purpose they serve is so that you are not alone all the time. Being around people is horrible, but being alone is much worse.

Sigh. You need a smoke. You go down to the smoking area to be by yourself, but not sit alone in your room. You need to get out of there, She was there. You sit and stare out into the distance. You find it strangely soothing. You pull out a cigarette and light it. Now is the time for you to sit and be with your thoughts. If not now, then you will never be at peace. Though you are not sure you ever can be.

You didn't love Her. You were a bit infatuated with Her, but it wasn't love. You aren't even sure love exists. You consider it almost daily. You have reached the conclusion that whether or not love exists, you won't know until you experience it. This wasn't it.

It took a lot for you to realize this. You need to move on now. You are right back where you started and have no idea what to do, not that you had any idea in the first place. This is horrid, this feeling. This emptiness tears you up. The smoke doesn't fill that hole. This wasn't a good idea. You decide to go back upstairs.

M- is there. You don't know why, but you really like M-, he just seems like a nice person and you really enjoy talking to him.

"Hey, what's up?"

"You, I need to talk to you," M- takes you aside.

"What's up?"

"You need to stop smoking."

"What?"

"Promise me that you will not smoke until Saturday."

"What, why?"

"Because, you should stop, it's a challenge, don't smoke until Saturday."

"Um, okay."

"Great, okay I have to go. I will see you later."

You stand in silence for a moment. That was a very strange occurrence. You just promised M- that you wouldn't smoke and smoking has actually been beneficial for you. You have been thinking about quiting though. You are sick up the smell and really don't want to have to pay for more cigarettes. It's not like you even smoke 'right.' Maybe this is a sign that you should stop.

You put the cigarettes in your desk drawer and don't take them out when you are gathering your things in the morning. The day passes and they remain there. And the next. And the next. They remain there for a week, then you decide to give the rest of the pack to the crazy girl down the hall. You can't just throw them away, they cost money.

You picked up and quit smoking in the span of a week. You are an idiot. You need a new outlet for you anger and frustration. You are not sure what you will do, whether or not it will be worse than this, but only time will tell. You tell the world to fuck off and then go to sleep.

You should have gone with.

Everyone is leaving for the football game and you should have gone with. Yes you hate football, but you would have had fun just being with your friends. You really should have gone. It is Friday night and you have no plans beyond sitting in your room alone doing god knows what.

You need some booze. It soothes the pain. It calms that swirling vortex of thoughts you call your brain. Sure the pain is still there, once the booze wears off you will still think about everything, but that is not the point. The point is to provide temporary relief.

You are alone tonight, which is not good. You are pretty depressed, not more than usual, but who knows how the night will progress. Without something to distract you, your mind is going to start wandering, and when it does it always goes to that dark place. Usually a nice healthy dose of video games and a podcast will do the trick, but you are really not feeling that tonight.

Not that you really have anything better to do. As much as you try, you know you are going to end up playing video games, but let's see if we can't get your mind a bit altered first. Perhaps you can enjoy your night instead of just sitting in misery. You should have gone with you fucking idiot.

You know why you didn't go out, and it isn't because you don't like football. While that much is true, you didn't want to go have fun with your friends. Sure it would have alleviated the depression for a while, but once it was over you would have gone right back where you were and more than likely, even lower. You really don't want to be any lower than you are right now.

Though drinking doesn't really seem like the best course of action right now. You should just wait and see how the night progresses first. Just start small. Grab yourself a beer and just relax. There is no reason to get your mind in a state when it may not be necessary. For now all you need to do is try and relax.

Ah beer, how it can taste so sweet. It can also taste like piss water, but if you are going to get beer, it is going to be good beer. So you grab that dark Irish beer you love so much and sit down ready for some relaxation and.

Shit.

Shit, shit, fuck, ass damn, fuck, shit, shit, shit.

You don't have a fucking bottle opener.

Everyone who has a bottle opener that you could commandeer just left and locked their room behind them.

Fuck.

No, this will not end here. There is delicious beverage within that bottle and you will be enjoyed on this day.

You grab the one bottle opener you own. It is for twist off bottles, so its purpose is pretty useless as is. It does have a slit on one side that looks like it could fit the tab on a can, but no a bottle cap. You twist the cap around. This isn't working, you're just spinning the cap and not getting any further in taking it off.

This bottle needs to be opened. Well guess you will have to brute force this one. You take the bottle opener and begin banging it against the cap. You get a good hit in and hear the sound of escaping pressure. Only a few more like that and you are good. You take another swing and.

"FUCK!"

Son of a bitch that hurt. You look down at your thumb and see to grooves carved into the knuckle. One of them is pretty deep as well. You also have a chunk of skin hanging off of the larger groove. Shit this is going to start bleeding everywhere. You pull off the hanging skin, it was useless now anyway, and go to the sink.

You turn on the water and stick your thumb into the stream. It hurts, but not too much. Fuck, everyone just left and then you decided to cut your thumb open. Well this needs to be wrapped up before you go about fixing this. A towel would be best, but you only have two white towels and you really don't want to clean blood off of anything. Toilet paper would work, but someone is in there, shouldn't they be at the game?

Tissues. Tissues work. You grab a tissue and wrap it tight around your hand. Not tight enough, so you wrap it again. You pick up your wallet and keys and leave the room, locking your door behind you. The convenience store is just down stairs. You move down those stair as fast as possible and get to the convenience store. Oh look your friends are outside, you say hi, but avoid them because shit is going down.

You browse the shelves of the convenience store, but to no avail. You ask the cute girl at the counter.

"Do you have any rubbing alcohol?"

"Yes it is right here," she places a bottle on the table.

"Thanks, do you have a bottle opener by any chance?"

She give you a strange look, "let me check."

She browses the items hanging behind the counter. She notices your thumb, "are you okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine."

"What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Did you cut your hand open on a bottle?"

..."Yes."

She shows you a can opener, "I don't have a bottle opener, but the end of this can opener will work."

"How much is it?"

"Two dollars."

"That works."

"Are you sure you are okay, do you need any band aids?"

"I'm good, I have band aids in my room, thank's though."

You pay and leave, hurrying back to your room. As you walk there, you cringe at the thought of the coming pain. This is going to hurt like hell and you know it. You get back to your door, unlock it, and go strait for the bottle. You don't even unwrap the can opener, you just use the end to pop the cap off.

There, it is done. You take a nice, long swig from the bottle. Success tastes delicious; so does the beer. Now onto the pain. You prepare yourself mentally and take the bottle of rubbing alcohol over to the sink. It is time. You open the bottle and, shit it is sealed. You unseal the bottle and throw away the seal.

Now it is time. You hold your hand above the sink and ready the bottle. Shit you are not looking forward to this. Time to sack up. You pour, the rubbing alcohol flows directly into the wound.

"FUCK! OH GOD DAMN IT! Fuuuuck!"

Yeah that hurt like hell, but it is over now. Now all you need is something to cover the wound and hold the blood in. A band aid won't work, the cut is too deep and it will bleed right through it. What you need is a cotton ball or something. You grab another tissue and use it to stop the bleeding for now. Shit, okay, someone has to still be here and have a cotton ball.

You wander around your floor looking for someone. D- is leaving her room.

"Thank god, D- do you have a cotton ball?"

She notices your hand, "Not sure, let me look."

She goes back into her room and looks through her supplies. "I don't think I have any."

"That's okay, thank you for looking."

"No problem," and she is gone.

Fuck. This sucks. You are going to be stuck here holding a tissue until the wound stops bleeding, which could take hours, unless you find something and-

"K-!" You catch her just as she is about to leave. "Do you have a cotton ball I could have?"

"What did you do?"

"Uh, never try and open a bottle without a bottle opener."

"Ouch, let me look."

K- disappears into her room and you wait patiently. Her friend waits in the hall with you. You smile weakly at her, but you don't really notice her. This is pretty intense, you aren't even looking at girls, you are too focused on stopping the bleeding. That means something.

"I don't have cotton balls, but I have these pad things that are for removing nail polish."

She hands you two pads, they are made of cotton, but they are woven into a flat pad instead of being a fluffy ball.

"This should work, but I only need one."

"Just take both of them."

"Thank you so much."

"No problem."

You dart back into your room and remove the tissue. You splash a small amount of rubbing alcohol onto the wound again, just to make sure. It burns, but not as much. The pad is a little too big, so you fold it in half and press it against the wound. Now you need something to secure the pad to the thumb.

You ponder this for a moment, then inspiration strikes. You pull the tape dispenser out of your desk and begin wrapping your thumb in plain, office supply tape. It may be strange, but it works and that is all that matters. You finish wrapping and test out the make shift band aid. It seems good enough. You take another swig of beer and sit down to play your game.

...

The bottle is empty. The night is still young. Time to switch to the hard liquor, though a cocktail sound really nice instead of just strait. Well the dining hall is open for another twenty minutes, plenty of time to go get some Coke to mix with the rum.

You get down to the dining hall, big cup in tow, and the lady at the counter scans your card.

"You do know we close in fifteen minutes right?"

"Yeah I'm just getting something to drink."

"Okay, enjoy."

"Thanks, have a nice evening."

You go around the corner and fill you glass with Coke, you can just drink some plain Coke first until you have enough space for the optimal amount of rum. Time to get back to the game. You round the corner, but notice some of your friends at a table. You stop by to say hi.

"What's up?"

"Hi, how are you."

"Good," you sit down at the open spot, "just getting some Coke."

"No food?"

"No I just want Coke."

"Why?"

The girl who posed the question is bumped by another, "you know why."

"Yeah I need something to mix with the rum."

"Are you sure that's just Coke?"

"Yeah I'm not going to bring rum into the dining hall."

That isn't good enough. The glass is snatched away from you and sampled.

"See, it's just Coke, for now."

"True."

"So why aren't you at the game?"

"Why aren't you?"

"I hate football."

"Same."

"It's a valid answer."

"What happened to your thumb?"

"I got in a fight with a bottle."

You stay and chat for a bit, explaining what happened first and foremost. The conversation jumps from topic to topic, as they tend to do. Then it is time to go. You head back to your room. When you reach there, the glass has the perfect amount of room for rum. You fill the glass and sit back down to enjoy.

...

Everyone returns much later in the evening. You managed to turn a night of assumed self loathing into one of relaxed enjoyment. The alcohol really helped that, it usually does. It turns out that the game went well, though from the sounds of it, you chose right in staying away.

You share your fight against the bottle with your returning friends. It amuses them. If anything, you gained an interesting anecdote instead of a forgettable evening. You retire early for the night. You do love sleep after all.

Later you learn that the bottle opener that you thought didn't work, works just fine for opening normal bottles. Good job moron.