Isolation

In a smoke-induced haze, she stumbles through the room trying to see through the irremovable veil muting her vision. Another beer, another hit, another meaningless fuck. The faces have changed, the situation's the same. She's screaming for a way out, desperate to let someone in. Laughter fills the room, conversation of old days and old friends, none of which she is a part of. She stares at each one looking for familiarity, safety. Sometimes they look back, looking through her, never at her.

She staggers to the sliding glass door. Laughing when she trips like it's all okay, like she's okay.

The bitter cold bites her skin, just another reminder she's not home. Out of her element. Lighting a cigarette, she debates what she's doing there.

What is she doing there? Wasting her best years away?



A/N: I'd really like to expand on this. So I am going to claim this unfinished. But I would lovelovelove feedback.