Mylea likes to walk outside when she has a lot on her mind. She finds it especially relieving when Moon is out. There is something about darkness that makes her feel more in tune with her emotions. Perhaps the isolation? Daytime has many more distractions. As she drags on some ripped pants, a dirty t-shirt, a hoodie, and some sneakers, she thinks about where her cigarettes are. She doesn’t know where she is going (Mylea doesn’t plan things out often). All she knows is that she wants to walk, listen to her “Depressed” playlist (which consists of a lot of sad love songs circa the 90’s -2000s), and smoke a cigarette. Cigarettes help her think; she believes it has something to do with her oral fixation. And she likes the idea that every time she smokes a cigarette, she is killing herself just a little bit. Something about consensually consuming a product that came out of a box with a skull on it, and some 6 point font about cancer, makes her smile .
She swoops her hair up into a ponytail, grabs headphones, the menthols, a lighter, and departs into Friday night.
22 and Counting 