Maybe tomorrow I'll feel a speck worthwhile

I left Mike a note.
I needed to get home. I needed to get home to my wife and kids.

I was doing so good. I was doing so fucking good. And then I had to destroy it all.
The tears burned as I lit up a cigarette, letting the poison calm me down a bit.
If I walked home, at least I would burn some calories.
Maybe I needed to change my meals.

I cant keep missing dinner. Adrienne, Mike and Tré will be on me like a hawk now.
I can skip the breakfast. It doesn't matter, I hate grapefruit anyway.

I put on my sunglasses and let the tears fall. Hopefully nobody will notice it's me.
I kept on walking, thinking.

Do you love Adrienne?
Of course I do. I love her with all my heart.
She's beautiful – hell, she's fucking stunning.
I love our boys. They could put a smile on my face even on the rainiest day.

But she can't give me what Mike can.
Don't get me wrong, when Adrienne and I make love, the pleasure is great.
I love holding her perfect curves and watching her beautiful breasts bounce as she rides me in a perfect rhythm.
But she can't hit that spot inside me, that spot that makes me see stars.
She can't give me what I actually want.
I love her. I really do.
But she's not him.

It's not just about the sex.
Mike have been there for me since like forever.
He'd take a bullet for me and I'd take a bullet for him.
When everything is black, he lights up my world. He always has.

I stopped at the bridge, the same bridge I ran to the day my dad died.
The bridge that I've spent so many tears with, the bridge Mike had picked me up a couple of times.
I leaned over, staring at the water.
You wouldn't have the guts to jump.

It would feel nice.
It would feel nice to have that tickling feeling in your stomach when you fall, before you hit the water in an awkward position.
It would feel nice to just see your life passing by while you slowly sink, seeing this dirty city in a blurry vision while your lungs get filled with water.

I sighed and continued walking.
I walked, my brain being fuzzy with all the thoughts, until I reached my goal.
I opened the large gate, making it squeak.
My body shook as I steered my steps through the gravel path. I almost felt cold under all the layers of clothes.

There it was.
I stopped right in front of it and looked around before sitting down.
The graveyard was empty, besides one lonely older woman walking around with dark clothes.
I took a deep breath before I opened my mouth.

“I'm sorry. I was supposed to visit you a long time ago. It's just...”, I looked at the gray stone, “...I don't really know what to say. I can't believe I'm lying to a stone.”

I leaned over to get some dirt off my fathers tombstone.

“I don't know what to do, dad. Everything is so fucking hard. And I don't care that I swear on this place.”

The tears started to fall again.

“I can't do anything without you, daddy. I can't. I should have moved on, but I haven't. I can't ever forget, and it all fucking hurts so fucking much.”

I used the sleeve of my hoodie to dry some tears. “I really wish you were here. Please help.”
The tombstone remained quiet.
I sobbed. “I love you, daddy.”

I sat there for a while, just talking to my dad, cleaning up the grave and lit some candles.
I said goodbye to him, for now, and left the gray graveyard behind.

Say what you want about this dirty town, but by dawn, it's beautiful.
The sun feels nice on my frozen body and I felt a tiny smile on my lips.

You live to die.
You get thrown out from this shitty life almost as fast as you get in it.

Do you want to die?
I just don't want to feel.

The door was locked. I opened it with my key and walked in.

“Hello?” I shouted – why would someone be home if the door is locked? Idiot.
I walked into the kitchen to see the note on the fridge.

Billie,
I'm having a girls night out. The boys will sleep over at their friends.
See you tonight.
Xoxo, Adie

I sighed and walked to the bathroom, meeting my gaze in the bathroom mirror.

My eyes were empty.
My makeup were smudged all over my face.
Stubble was all over my cheeks, making me look old.

I closed my eyes; hoping that this disgusting image of myself would disappear when I opened my eyes.
Open 'em.
Nope.
It's still there.

I turned on the shower, took off all my clothes and stepped in under the hot spray of water.

I just stood like that for a while – letting the water warm up my frozen body before taking the soap and washed all the places where Mike had been with his hands, lips, tongue, his fucking everything and scrubbed my face until all the old makeup were gone.

When I smelled like a real person again and not like a prostitute, I stepped out of the shower and put a towel around my waist.

I faced myself in the bathroom mirror again, smearing some shaving foam on the stubble and grabbed my razor.
Just because I feel like shit, doesn't mean I have to look like shit.

Shave, shave, shave.
I wanted all of that disgusting stubble gone. Now.
I pressed down, hissing when I felt a sharp pain and took the razor away.

The blood quickly poured out from the tiny wound the razor made on my chin.

I looked at the beautiful crimson, then looking at my razor.

I shook when I cracked the razor open, taking out the sharp blade.
When I pressed it against the underside of my forearm, I suddenly stopped.

This is what fucking media is all about.
Teenage fucking girls starving themselves.
Teenage girls cutting themselves to get some kind of relief, some kind of safe place.

Music have always been my safe place.
But suddenly, that weren't enough.

I pressed the blade down a bit harder. I was careful about my tattoos; I didn't want them completely destroyed.

And with that, I let the sharp, shiny blade get through my skin in one movement.

The blood quickly poured out and I made a strange noise, almost like a moan.
I titled my head back, closing my eyes.

It almost felt like some kind of a high, almost like I had done ecstasy or something.

The blood ran down my arms like a beautiful crimson flood, slowly drying on my tattoos.

I think you just found your new safe place.