Allow me to hate, despise life and every human freely.
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Allow me to breathe without being deemed a harm to myself or anyone around me.
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We're all expected to be open, to cry out for help but society's foundation is built on judging others. How can this weight on my chest lighten when the world is what's suppressing me?
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I'd like to scream and everyone hear it.
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See me.
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Hear me.
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Remember me.
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What will it take to get everyone's attention?
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I am not well.
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"I've been waiting an awfully long time, Lilliana."
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Typically someone would be scared upon entering their room, flipping on their light and seeing a person sitting in the chair in the corner. But I'm high. So I squint, eyes adjusting to the light.
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I drop my bag to the ground at my feet, closing my bedroom door behind me.
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"How did you know where I live?"
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Malachi grins that same grin from the other night. "I've been watching you."
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"Like stalking me?" I arch an eyebrow.
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"Yes." He answers boldly, gaze and body unmoving in confidence. "Want to know what I've found out about you?"
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My arms defensively cross over my chest.
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"I found, Lilliana...that if your life was a novel, I'd put the book down."
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The words, even coming from a complete stranger stung a bit. But I'm getting used to having dark thoughts and enjoying a high at the same time.
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"I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here...yes?"
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It's clear this guy feeds off of being in control, the same as our last encounter. The fact that he's admittedly been watching or stalking me or whatever he's doing...is enough to tell me that Maverick was probably right; Malachi is dangerous.
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But no one's ever gone to such lengths just to talk to me.
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"Sure." I tell him with a shrug, more to satisfy him than having any actual curiosity.
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"While learning about you, Lilliana..." Malachi sits up straighter. "I considered the fact you come from a loving home, lots of money, no deaths of anyone you were close to. I came to the conclusion that you don't know why you're so depressed."
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"You don't think this is weird?" My index finger moves between the both of us. "You sneaking into my house just to tell me there isn't a reason for my depression?" My arm returns to its spot over my chest. "You're clearly a psycho. Is there reason for that?"
"It's a chemical imbalance." His arrogant smirk is handsome. "But that's not the reason I'm here either."
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Getting impatient, I take lazy steps over to the end of my bed, dropping down onto it. "Let me guess, you want to know why I'm like this."
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"No." He says firmly, as if my insinuation was insulting. "That what you call situational sadness or depression; when something happens to produce negative thoughts. You don't have that."
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Malachi sees me...
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"You have something wrong up here." He taps his temple three times before placing his hand down on the armrest. "Which is quite worse. At least if you had an answer, you'd know it would pass in time. Your battle is forever long. Has anyone ever told you that, Lilliana?"
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No, no one has.
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Even Maverick is busy instilling positivity into me rather than laying facts out on the table. Sugar coating my misery is a skill of his but that's more for him than it is for me.
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"You don't seek therapy." Malachi states, not waiting for my answer. It's clear he doesn't ever need one. "Though you're not embarrassed of who you are. Naturally, we get prescribed a medication that makes life livable...You're self medicated."
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I'm not embarrassed of my depression. Going to therapy means having a hard conversation with my naive parents. It means an evaluation. It means lockdown.
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Drugs are more important to me.
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"Say exactly what you're thinking, Lilliana."
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"Is it crazy to think that someone might not want to take those steps to get better?" I ask without giving myself permission.
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"Oh, well of course not..." he answers with a chuckle as he leans forward in the chair, resting his elbows on top of his knees. "You're far past the point of wanting better. If you sought help now, you'd have to find a different purpose for that little yellow pouch you carry around."
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Our eyes flicker towards the yellow pouch by the door, hanging off the strap of my purse by a silver keychain.
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"Which brings me to the question I came to ask." He continues. "Is it worth it to you?" His head tilts slightly. "Giving up what you dread putting down...all in the hopes of one day being happy?"
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The answer, in my head, comes instantly.
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No.
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It's a lot of work, wasted time to fix a life that isn't worth anything.
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There's a part of me that wants to lie, to say yes, it is worth it. Then maybe we can be 'happy' and move on from such an annoying subject. Being that I wake up and go to sleep with these probing thoughts, talking about it, especially for this long, isn't my idea of fun.
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Then there's the other part of me that wants to let it out, to be transparent. Here in front of me is a stranger, not sought out to judge or misunderstand. He is one who is here simply to learn about me. Why not give him the truth?
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It feels good to have someone ask me questions about myself that aren't related to materialist things, drama, or when I'm free for a 'date' that isn't really a date, it's just a hookup. Maverick has always been my friend so questions are expected out of him.
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Malachi chose me.
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He came to me without the purpose of getting laid, without a path of use he could get out of me. He's not here to change me, he's here because I am me.
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"That is what makes me happy." I tell him, lifting a leg up to pull off my boot. "I'm the happiest I've ever been." I add as I drop my leg and lift my other one up to remove the second shoe. "So no, it's not worth it to me, Malachi. If I could be high forever, I think that would help."
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"That comes at a costly price, Miss Lilliana." Malachi's half grin has returned. "Don't you see what drugs do to people?"
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"I can do it better."
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Malachi's eyes flash as his grin grows into a smile again. "You do have drive." He makes the comment as if sharing a side note with himself.
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"Why'd you come here when you know Maverick doesn't want you around me?" I get comfortable on my bed, glad that I chose a lazy pair of sweatpants and a long sleeved t shirt as my outfit for the day. I rest back against my headboard, pulling my comforter up over my lap.
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His chuckle is deep, manly, filling the room and my ears beautifully. "It didn't phase me at first, not having met you. You're seventeen; not like I had much to say anyway." He groans, resting back against the chair again. "Maverick never specifically told me that I couldn't meet you, it was an unsaid thing between us. But then I saw you in my room, stealing shamelessly and I have to admit, Liliana, you grabbed my attention."
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"How did you know who I was?" I ask the questions I've been wanting answered since we met. I was under the impression that we only knew of each other, so how did he know to put my name to my face at that party?
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"Maverick never showed me a picture of you or anything." He answers truthfully. "I got lucky that night; I so happened to be around when one of your friends; Kennedy, called your name out."
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My eyebrows draw together but before I can ask, he answers.
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"Like I said; I've been stalking you."
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"You said I grabbed your attention..." I remind him. "And this is how you planned on getting mine?"
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"It's worked so far, has it not?"
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The numbing of the drugs isn't allowing the blush to form on my cheeks. "You're so weird."
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"A few minutes ago, you described me as psycho...you're warming up to me, Lilliana."
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As I feel my eyelids getting heavy, I say, "I'm getting tired. Since you let yourself in, you can let yourself out."
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Malachi stands with a groan.
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I watch him as he crosses my room. As he does, he pulls a tiny baggie out of his pocket.
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Toasting it onto my nightstand, he mumbles, "For answering truthfully."
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Without another word, Malachi leaves me to think myself to sleep.
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