Sequel: You Could Be Happy ›
Wilted and Faded
my name is never was
I slammed my apartment door shut behind me and locked it. There had been a scrum of paparazzi outside trying to get an ‘exclusive’ photo.
Fucking vultures.
Walking into my bedroom I stripped off my stained dress and scuffed flats, grabbed the cleanest looking T-shirt off of my floor and pulled it over my head. Looking down at it I noticed it was a grey Black Flag shirt that belonged to Chris, or had belonged to Chris.
I flopped down on the unmade bed and looked up at the ceiling, the pillow still smelled like him. I wanted to cry, ball my eyes out like a baby, but I couldn’t, I hadn’t during this whole thing. I wanted to cry so bad that it made me want to cry some more because I couldn’t cry in the first place. Now I had just confused myself even further. Maybe I was too dehydrated to cry, I hadn’t eaten since yesterday lunchtime and I hadn’t drank anything since before we left the club last night.
I pulled myself up and wandered out of the bedroom, heading for my small kitchen. Standing in front of the open cupboards I realised I hadn’t gone grocery shopping in a long time. Chris and I used to go together late on a Wednesday night. Used to, there was that damn past tense again, I was never going to get used to this.
One place that was never empty was the liquor cabinet. I knelt down and opened the door to reveal a half-empty bottle of JD. I frowned as I picked it up and shut the door, I was sure that there had been more than that in there. Moving over to the refrigerator I pulled it open and spotted a six pack of Bud on the bottom shelf and an opened bottle of vodka.
Collecting my small stash of booze I went through to the lounge. I turned on my iPod in its little speaker station and put it on shuffle. The sounds of Red Sky by Thrice filled the room as I opened a can of beer and started drinking.
Lounging back on the couch I let the music wash over me as I drank.
Trying to forget, to remember, to dull the pain.
I knew it was only a temporary solution that, in the end, would make things worse.
Right now that didn’t matter, I wanted this feeling to stop, a feeling I hadn’t felt in 5 years.
I wanted the ache in my chest to disappear back to wherever it had come from, back to where I had buried it.
I wanted to drown in my own tears.
Fucking vultures.
Walking into my bedroom I stripped off my stained dress and scuffed flats, grabbed the cleanest looking T-shirt off of my floor and pulled it over my head. Looking down at it I noticed it was a grey Black Flag shirt that belonged to Chris, or had belonged to Chris.
I flopped down on the unmade bed and looked up at the ceiling, the pillow still smelled like him. I wanted to cry, ball my eyes out like a baby, but I couldn’t, I hadn’t during this whole thing. I wanted to cry so bad that it made me want to cry some more because I couldn’t cry in the first place. Now I had just confused myself even further. Maybe I was too dehydrated to cry, I hadn’t eaten since yesterday lunchtime and I hadn’t drank anything since before we left the club last night.
I pulled myself up and wandered out of the bedroom, heading for my small kitchen. Standing in front of the open cupboards I realised I hadn’t gone grocery shopping in a long time. Chris and I used to go together late on a Wednesday night. Used to, there was that damn past tense again, I was never going to get used to this.
One place that was never empty was the liquor cabinet. I knelt down and opened the door to reveal a half-empty bottle of JD. I frowned as I picked it up and shut the door, I was sure that there had been more than that in there. Moving over to the refrigerator I pulled it open and spotted a six pack of Bud on the bottom shelf and an opened bottle of vodka.
Collecting my small stash of booze I went through to the lounge. I turned on my iPod in its little speaker station and put it on shuffle. The sounds of Red Sky by Thrice filled the room as I opened a can of beer and started drinking.
Lounging back on the couch I let the music wash over me as I drank.
Trying to forget, to remember, to dull the pain.
I knew it was only a temporary solution that, in the end, would make things worse.
Right now that didn’t matter, I wanted this feeling to stop, a feeling I hadn’t felt in 5 years.
I wanted the ache in my chest to disappear back to wherever it had come from, back to where I had buried it.
I wanted to drown in my own tears.