You're Flying

He left me.

Who knew that one simple thought could cause so much heartbreak? My Angel walked out on me and left me to choose between my two loves; him and alcohol.

He doesn’t understand how hard this is for me. I’m an addict. I can’t be left alone. I tried cleaning up my act for him because of how much he means to me, but it wasn’t good enough. Attempting to get clean just turned me into a monster. I almost hurt my Angel. Angel has been nothing but sweet to me and I repay him by doing everything he wishes I didn’t do and almost hurting him. I don’t deserve someone like him.

I sat on the couch; head delicately cradled in my hands as tears spilled down my cheeks. It was like someone turned on the faucet and refused to turn it off. The tears were never-ending. I just stayed there, staring at the wall until my vision became so blurry that the wall looked like a painted blob. I let the tears continue to flow as I closed my eyes, letting them fall down my cheeks for God knows how long.

I am crying for every moment in my life that I wish I could have cried but didn’t. Crying is for the weak, and I’m a worthless weakling. No, I’m a fucking monster. I don’t even deserve to walk this Earth anymore.

I looked up after an eternity of crying, seeing a blurry body standing in front of me. I blinked my eyes rapidly to reveal Quince. Why is it that he can clean himself up for a girl he’s barely known and I can’t clean myself up for the love of my life? I’ve known Angel for what feels like forever and I can’t clean myself up for him. Again, I don’t deserve him, not at all.

Quince cleared his throats awkwardly, rubbing his hands together, before sitting across from me. I just stared at him as my tears continued to relentlessly spill down my cheeks. He was looking at me, a series of emotions filling his eyes.

His eyes were full of sympathy because of how weak I was. I hate pity.

His eyes were full of anger towards me for hurting his little brother. I hate myself for almost hurting Angel.

His eyes were full of understanding about how hard it is to give up something that you love so much. I hate that I tried and failed.

His eyes were full of nervousness for reasons unknown to me. I hate not being clued in. What the hell is Quince thinking?

“What?” I managed to get out through tears, my voice barely above a whisper. I didn’t want to talk to anyone at the moment. At the moment I just want to curl up in a ball in the corner and never be spoken of or talked to again. I have no idea how I can live with myself, knowing that I brought myself to the point where I almost physically abused the most important person in my life, the love of my life.

“I need to talk to you man,” he spoke slowly, a look of contemplation etched into his features. He was probably trying to decide what to say next.

“Then talk,” I said as the tears continued to spill. It was if they had minds of their own and refused to stop, weakening me with each drop of water that spilled over my puffy eyelids.

“I’m worried about you man.” He said sincerely, never taking his eyes off of my pathetic form. Great, more pity…

“I don’t want your pity!” I screamed around my tears, leaning forward as if to challenge him as my fists clenched at my sides. I’m stooping low enough to challenge my own best friend, the friends whose brother I almost hurt. He should beat the living shit out of me.

“Dom,” he spoke softly. “I know what it’s like to try to quit drinking after it played such a huge role in my life. If I can do it though, you can too. You just need to go about it in different ways.”

Oh, so now he’s trying to get all philosophical on me. He thinks he’s better than me because he was able to get clean while I wasn’t.

“It’s a lost cause.” I told him through gritted teeth. On top of feeling weak and worthless, I’m starting to feel angry.

“No it’s not.” He said angrily. “Dom, you mean the fucking world to me. You’re my best friend and I love you to death, but my brother is more important to me.”

Everyone is more important to me. I’m scum compared to hobos that have to stand on the street with signs begging for food.

“So, I’ve got to side with him. You have to clean up your act, man. If you don’t, I think I’m going to have to kick you out. I can’t watch you continue to hurt not only yourself, but my brother, which also hurts me. I need to do what’s best for me, and I can’t surround myself with people who give into temptation so easily. Plus, I need to put a roof over my own blood’s head.” He told me, twirling his fingers nervously.

“What are you trying to say?” I demanded as my anger quickly vanished, leaving me with even more guilt and sadness then I had before. It’s enveloping me, chocking me, taking me prisoner.

“What I’m trying to say,” he started as he looked at the wall, not wanting to face the pathetic mess crumpled in front of him, otherwise known as me. “You need to clean up your act soon, or you’re out of here… for good.”

“What?” I asked dumbfounded.

“Dom, you heard what I said,” he spoke softly, looking me in the eyes once again.

I put my hands to my face, forcefully wiping away the tears just for them to be replaced not two seconds later. First I have to almost hurt the love of my life. Then I almost beat up said love of my life. Then finally, I’m getting threatened by my best friend. If I don’t clean myself up to his standards I lose my best friend, the love of my life, and my home for good.

Why me? Why does this fucking shit always have to happen to me?

I fucking hate this!

Sobs racked my frame harder as everything truly sunk in. I felt Quince wrap his arms around my shaking body after sitting down, comforting me. At least he still somewhat cares about me.

How could I lose people like Angel and Quince? They’re so full of goodness, kindness, and love. The answer is that I can’t lose them. I looked up at Quince through the tears in my eyes, conveying all my thoughts through the orbs that were now warped by heartbreaking tears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thanks, man,” I said to Quince, the next morning. I look like shit. I’m in rumpled clothes, my hair is a mess, and my eyes are still insanely puffy from all the crying I did the night before. Not only do I feel worthless, but I look worthless.

I took a deep breath and walked towards the building in front of me, my one tiny bag of belongings in my hand. I heard Quince drive off behind me and I forced myself not to look back. I’d just run after his car like a madman, begging him to take me back.

I opened the door and walked up to the front desk. “Hi,” I greeted the lady behind the front desk. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun and she was wearing thick, horn rimmed glasses that look like they should be burned. “My name’s Dominique Fallon. I’d like to check in.” I said shakily, still having trouble believing that I sunk so low that I found myself in the situation that I’m currently in.

“Hello there, Mister Fallon,” she greeted me in her obnoxiously high-pitched voice as she started typing away on the keyboard to her computer. “Ah, yes,” she said around an overly perky smile. She handed me some papers and a key. “Here is your room assignments and schedule for everything you will be needing for as long as you are here. I’d like to take this time to welcome you to Buckley Rehabilitation Center!”

I growled. If all the people that worked here were as peppy as her I’d probably end up committing suicide by tomorrow night.

~~~~~~~~~~

I spent the day looking around the center. It was full of fuck ups just like me. We all were here to get better because we need to gain our lives back. We’re the biggest fuck ups in society. At least I found somewhere I belong.

I continued walking down the hallway to my room, room 13B. My roommate was nice, I guess. His name is Lukas, and he’s here for the same reason as I am, alcoholism. He’s getting better to please his parents though. Lucky kid, he hasn’t learned what true heartbreak feels like.

I sat on my bed, stripping before laying down in it, staring at the ceiling of the place that I am now forced to call home. The second I’m better I am getting out of this joint. I’m going to pick up where I left off with my Angel, and never let myself be put into a situation like this again. I’d never be able to live with myself. I’d never be able to forgive myself. I’d never be able to forgive myself for hurting Angel, again.

I have to keep reminding myself that I’m doing this for Angel

I stared up at the ceiling, still in shock at the fact that I was reduced to such a low level. To add onto that, I have to live in a place that makes me want to kill myself. The people are too perky, unnaturally perky, and everything is white. It’s like I’ve found the light and can’t fucking lose it. I hate it with a passion.

How could they call a place that already seems like my personal hell a good place? I have no idea how I can survive a place like this. I’ve already embarked on my journey to recovery on my own, and it obviously didn’t go to well. What makes these nimrods think that they can fix me?

I rolled my eyes as I turned over, slowly slipping into a light slumber, not wanting to dream of everything I’ve lost and left behind because of my problems.

“Welcome to Rip Off Your Smiles Incorporated,” I told myself as sleep finally overtook me. “You’ve finally found a place in the world for fuck ups just like you!”

Isn’t my life peachy...?