User:Plaza4Life

The crack in the enamel is wide enough for me to view as sufficient for a foothold. I attempt to sink my grimy white Chuck Taylor’s into the crevice. Before I can think about what to do next, I find myself on my belly. My attempts are futile. My tongue is starting to get accustomed to the metallic tang of my blood. The pain is excruciating but is slightly redeemed as the drops hit the enamel of my sink. It twists and squirms as either a result of pain or pleasure; I haven’t been able to separate the two lately. The crimson starfish spreads its limbs and crawls towards the drain. I spot my blood tinted canine. Good riddance, that one caused more than a few stains on my shirt. I still remember the warmth of the blacktop from that fall. The laughs and cheers of schoolchildren. I remember the bruises his jaw made on my knuckles. One of my earliest reminders of the laws of Sir Issac. The reaction from the crowd facilitates the rush of adrenaline. The light rasp of my breathing fills my ears. The feeling consumes me now just as strongly as it did in yesteryears. Just a lanky brown kid with an early Christmas gift of my two front teeth. Old Saint Nick gave me more than I asked for this time. I guess I’ve always had a habit of biting off more than I can chew. I wipe the blood off with my tongue just to have an excuse to taste it again. The blood vanishes and now all I’m left with is a reminder; stained from the Newports and Mars products. The squeak of my sole pulls me back to my current state. I’m halfway to the drain and at this rate, it’ll take another minute or two. I guess my childhood aspiration of becoming a cosmonaut has really gone to my head. I relieve the pressure from my All Stars and bring it to my knees to rush the inevitable. The most surface offers a rather smooth journey. My progress becomes stagnant as I’m momentarily impeded by the rust of the drain. That won’t stop me from finishing what I started. I kick and chisel orange flakes until I know there’s nothing but smooth sailing from here on. My shins hover over the metal pipe until the weight of my thighs and lower torso pull me down. The ride down was rough and now my ankle is limp and unresponsive. There’s no room for pain anymore as my senses are overloaded with the stench and touch of the sitting water at the lower bend of the drain. It engulfs me and my only escape is the air pocket just big enough for me not to drown. Guess this is rock bottom for ya. I’m accompanied by the remains of both old friends and former family members. I’m alone for the first time in what seems like eternity. I soon long for the touch and shine of the porcelain. The memories of the cracks that have forsaken me ruptures the dam of my being. My tears raise the water level and increases its salt content. Living here is no longer an option. I guess there’s nowhere to go but up now.