Love That Leaps Without A Shove

If.

Declares the beginning of a hypothetical phrase. Have you ever wondered how many times we’ve used that tiny word that means so much? If this were different, if I had said that, if I had done so and so.

It symbolizes regret, doesn’t it? Oh, look at me, bombarding you with questions already. But could we not question the things that surround us? Are we humans incapable of being grateful for everything we have ever done? Are we ever going to be completely happy with our choices and set aside what puts us down?

No. Simple as that.

**

The car was so filled with smoke, we had to open the windows a bit. I couldn’t deny the fact that it was amusing to see all that smoke billowing out; people outside must thing there was a fire. Of course there was no fire.
We were just baked.

No-one was talking, just staring at nothing. I could pass as the least high but I was certainly the drunkest, since I hadn’t stopped drinking since… I don’t remember when.

I closed my eyes and soothed myself, in order to not throw up. The vomit came all the way up to the back of my throat, like a heavy wave of vile. Wait, it was vile. I realized I couldn’t help it anymore. Calmly and defietely not fast, I rolled the window down, pulling my head out and letting the air clear up my mind and possibly stop me from vomiting all over myself.

I breathed from my mouth, those desperate inhales you have to make when sick. Pissed off, I just let it all out.
Most of it ended up on the hot asphalt, carried by the wind; only a few traces of puke was on the door and I wasn’t going to bother cleaning that up anytime soon.

Backing up, I retrieved to my seat with Steven and Tom looking at me.

“This is very appealing… to say the least,” said Tom, half-disgusted, half-laughing.

“Would you like it better if I puked on your lap?” I asked. No answer. “I thought so.”

I looked out of the window. We still had half-an-hour of driving. I was bored and I couldn’t drink to entertain myself… I rummaged through my bag, looking for my notebook, thinking of maybe adding something, or just keeping notes.
I pushed stuff aside, I threw some crap out on the floor; it was nowhere to be found. I knew it wasn’t in my suitcase. And it wasn’t in my handbag.

Fuck. Should I panic? I had everything in there, everything I was working on, my writing, my ideas, thoughts on a book I should write. My pathetic little life spun around that notebook… oh, and Joe.

“I have to go back to the hotel!” I shouted, throwing my bag to my side.

“Why?” Steven asked.

“I forgot something!”

Steven shrugged. “Its no biggie, we forget shit all the time, they’ll send it to you, don’t worry.”

“You can’t understand… its… I have to go, I’m going to have a panic attack.”

“Have you ever even had panic attacks?” questioned Tom.

“No…”

I bit my lip, hard enough to feel pain but not making it all bloody. It was all over. I had just lost my most important possession. Now I could just crawl in a corner and die. And that would be fine because now I had nothing in my life.

Sometimes it felt like a cloud followed me wherever I went; a cloud that brought along misery and bad luck. I should have never been born, should have never met Joe or any of them and should have never written stuff down in a notebook I would eventually lose.

My life sucked.

Everything was spiraling around alcohol and drugs lately. Not hardcore drugs but definitely hardcore drinking. Could love actually do this to me, turn me into an alcoholic, a maniac that would actually wreak somebody’s life and soon-to-be marriage?
Was I a bitch that stole men? No.

I was just a girl that had fallen in love with someone that used to love her. Joe used to love me a few hours ago, before I fucked things by kissing him. Joe loved me as a friend because I was always there for him when he needed me.

But he wasn’t there for me… there were times when I needed a shoulder and he was in another fucking state, or recording, or jamming. The only thing I had experienced as far as misery is concerned was work-wise. I lived to work and worked to live… and now I wasn’t even doing that.

Maybe I had come to the point where I was giving up on everything…