Tomorrow Is Never Clear

Johnny’s POV

I always promised myself that I wouldn’t be one of those people who drown their feelings in booze. So then why am I currently sat at the bar in a dingy pub in the dodgy end of Huntington Beach? I’ve been sat here since opening time so that’s, what, about eleven this morning? I don’t even have to ask for another whiskey anymore. They’re just topping the glass up when it’s empty. You know you have it bad when that happens.

I shouldn’t be here right now. I should be at home, with Danielle, comforting her and promising her that everything will be all right. What a royal fuckup I turned out to be. An emotionally stable fiancée would be able to offer support in times of need; it’s times like these you find out exactly what you’re like. I need to see a shrink. Fuck it, I need drugs. Any drugs. Prescription, illegal, whatever; I don’t really care what kind right now. All I know is that the alcohol isn’t helping anything. Hell, nothing is helping, at all. Danielle needs me and I’m sat here wallowing in self pity. What kind of fiancée am I? A damn shitty one, for sure. I need to get out of here, but the thought of leaving this seat is scaring me.

Maybe I’ll leave the cash to cover my tab on the bar and slip off home. I’d have to walk in the shadows so no one can see the monster I’ve become. I’m like a real life version of Jekyll and Hyde; that’s never good. Man by day, monster by night; more like man once a year, monster the rest of the time. Can you say screwed up?

The alcohol must have seriously screwed up my brain; I can hear myself muttering obscenities under my breath at the barman, the kind barman who’s been putting up with all my crap. This has to stop and soon. Or else it’ll just get worse. I need to take on my responsibilities.

So, maybe I’m not a commitment type of guy, that’s been true so far in my life. But, a year ago I promised myself that I would change. This is me, relapsing.