Dichotomy.

Rewind to when I could keep a level head and actually thought through my decisions.

Or was there ever time I could?

I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.

I don’t know me anymore.

If you’ll allow me to be melodramatic for a moment: I’m miserable again, but when am I ever anything else?

I haven’t even spoken to Tom for over a week at this point.

I can’t write or play.

I can barely think.

Part of me is even considering begging my mom’s friend for my old job back at the kitchen store.

Everyone hates me.

Even I hate me.

The one who likes me is my dog.

I sigh.

Brendon was surprisingly right.

The past week I’ve been pathetic as ever; I’ve managed to avoid pretty much everyone but my mother. But tonight, I shower, make myself look decently presentable, and leave my house for the first time in two days.

It’s still light outside when I push open my front door, and it’s decently warm, but I’m still cold and squint slightly into the sun.

I feel like a vampire.

I wander over a few blocks to a local venue to see if there’s any shows going on, just because I miss touring that much. I miss that feeling of being a part of something bigger than me, because now I’m a part of a whole lot of nothing.

The truth is…I’m pitiful. I’ve only been home for a week, and I can’t stay away.

I settle myself in the corner of the bar counter meanwhile a noisy band graces the stage and the lights dim so that I can barely see my drink in front of me.

They’re pretty much awful, a kind of terrible you’d have to hear to believe- but I don’t leave.
That’s how pathetic I am.

I quickly down my glass and order another. I’ll need much more if I intend to stick it out and hope the headliners don’t make my ears bleed.

“Hope you don’t mind if I join you?” a voice says, coming from my right. My stomach turns and I don’t even turn to make eye contact with him.

“As long as I don’t have to acknowledge your presence,” I respond flatly, hazarding a brief glance in his direction. He only laughs slightly, dropping onto the stool next to me. His glass clinks against the bar counter, so full that liquid slops over the edges a bit.

“God, I forgot how charming you are,” he snorts into his beer. I sigh, rolling my eyes before I turn to give him a tired expression.

“What do you want, Eric?”

He only shrugs, downing half his glass in a way that almost makes me nauseous.

“Nothing. I’m just, um…what’s the right word? Tolerating? - the show. And you? I thought you were off in the big leagues now.” He takes another gulp and studies me. I give a slight humorless laugh.

“Yeah. I’m done with all that,” I answer, sipping my glass and avoiding his eyes.

“That’s what you say now,” he replies, and I frown and glance at him. “After the band broke up…” he continues, noting my confused stare. “I really tried to quit. And I couldn’t.” He concentrates on his half-empty glass of cheap beer. “And maybe my music isn’t good anymore. Maybe it’ll never be better than what we wrote, before. But at least I’m making something, you know?” he asks.

“So then what do we do?” I ask, shaking my head at how sad we are.

“Well, either we can go back to my place and have average, reminiscently meaningless sex, which I know neither of us really wants to do, or we can sit here, talk, get drunk and then go our separate ways,” he suggests.

I hate that he’s sounding pretty reasonable right now.

“Right,” I agree, despite myself. “Do you know what’s a stupid word?” I ask, after ordering yet another glass. Thankfully, the opening band has stopped playing by now.

“What?” he asks, unsure where I’m going with the conversation.

“Love,” I reply, just because he’s the only person that has no grounds to judge me on anymore. “You know how everyone thinks love is related to your heart? I think that’s bull. Or else, hate is there, too,” I state, playing with a napkin on the counter.

“Yup. You’re definitely as charming and idealistic as I remember,” he shakes his head, looking at me. I blink back.

When did I get so predictable?

The truth is, for some strange reason, I just want to laugh.