Discover Top Posts Tagged with #bye flora

go to bed

sleep is for the weak

like you

clara sucks and you suck for liking her.

And you’re hopeless and awkward and desperate for love

#haha #bye flora #your trolling is getting bad #you used to be so much better #inbox

Habits || Self-Para

It didn’t take long to lose Dash. He hadn’t planned on staying out as long as she did, and they never really stuck together when they went out, anyway. They danced together, drank together. Sometimes they indulged in a little heavy petting. But typically, they ended the nights with separate people and went their separate ways until they saw each other the next time.

Flora honestly wasn’t even sure where she was. She remembered being at the club with Dash. She remembered pills and copious amounts of alcohol. Blurry faces of girls and of boys crackled in her head, though she couldn’t place any of them to the many bodies scattered around her in the foreign flat. She sat and stretched, rubbing her face while her head throbbed and her mind slowly caught up. She vaguely remembered leaving the club, now. There was the faintest memory of stumbling along with a small group of people, all of them looking to keep the party going. Apparently they had, wherever they were now.

While she wasn’t sure of the time--though, given the brightness of the sun, she suspected it to be noon at the earliest--she was sure of two things. One: she didn’t know where the rest of her clothes were or why she wasn’t wearing them. Two: she was the only one awake. Flora slowly eased herself up, doing her best to move without disturbing the sleeping bodies around her. She needed to find her clothes, figure out where she was, and leave. Second order of business would then be to feed herself. Third order would be to find the next party, and repeat. Flora wasn’t going home until she had to. She couldn’t bring herself to do it.

The parties she had been to as of late were too tame, too...not enough. Nothing felt like enough, recently. Everything just...took more. More alcohol to get drunk, more drugs to get high. To stop caring. Flora supposed that she should perhaps scale back, maybe try to start fresh. She had promised Meredith that she’d try, at least. For the summer. And for July. It shouldn’t be that hard to go back, should it? It had only been....what, six months? Seven? That wasn’t so long. But she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t go back to the way things were, when parties were just fun and nice boys didn’t scare her so damn much. There was no turning back from this.

That was because the old her was gone--she must have been. She didn’t even recognize herself in the mirror anymore. A thick layer of makeup and whatever else hid her away. Sometimes, Flora gave her reflection a long, hard stare, as if it would peel away all of her layers and show something new. It never did. It just showed the same old, same old. Some stranger’s face where hers should have been. Sometimes, it felt less real than other--this was not one of those times. It hit harder than it usually did, seeing her stranger’s face in some stranger’s mirror. It wasn’t right. She wasn’t right. Alcoholic, she thought, her sister’s voice whispering in her ears. Troubled child, this time. Her mother’s voice. Pathetic. Waste of space. Her own voice.

Emotion swelled up in her chest, freezing her quicker than she would have liked. No, she decided as she blinked back tears, going home wasn’t an option yet. She had to stay out. Disappear. That was the only way to stay happy, or at least fake it as best she could. Flora washed her face, trying not to mind the tinge of the water as it gurgled out of the pipes. Her make up smeared, changing her liar’s face yet again. But, even if it didn’t look like her, this was her. This was who she was now. She frowned, snatching up a dirty towel from the floor and covering the mirror so she didn’t have to look at herself anymore. She didn’t want to.

Flora quietly hurried around the flat, picking up her clothes as she found them and pulling them on without much care for what she looked like. Somewhere along the way she caught sight of a clock, making a mental note of the time--late afternoon, again. It didn’t take her long to make her way out the door, bracing herself against the sun and the cacophonous traffic of the streets. Ugh, England. She much preferred her own country, though she supposed waking up somewhere here was better than, say, Prague. Or France. At least she understood these people. And she could find a semi-decent place to eat. She turned out her pockets, finding a collection of pounds and galleons that she’d somehow managed to keep on her person despite the night’s activities. It would be enough for breakfast, maybe. Today, anyway.

The longer she spent sobering up, the more and more Flora realized that the intensity of her need to drink was all-consuming, blotting out every part of her except the parts that seemed to be taking more and more prominence in her life. Her mouth was dry, her hands feeling shaky. Her stomach churned and somewhere, some place in her was crying. Whispering. Begging to be satiated. Drowned. Well, she had every intention of drowning them. Even if it took all week. The threat of feeling was too much. She didn’t want to feel the hurt of losing her mother. She didn’t want to feel the guilt of forcing her sisters to grow up too fast. She didn’t want the fear of hurting herself, or of breaking hearts. She didn’t want to fight. All Flora wanted was to feel dull and buzzed and empty. She wanted to feel the thrum of music in her veins and the burn of a shot running down her throat. She wanted to feel raw from screaming, from having fun--not from crying. Feeling bad. She just wanted it all to go away.

She needed another party. Another drink. She needed it now.

It was hard to be sad when you were too fucked up to feel anything at all.

#self para #read more for style points #bye flora #see you never