Early Mourning

To say shit hit the fan that night would be an understatement. I thought the worst nights of my life were in the past, but the truth is there are still many broken pieces I hold inside me.

My first instinct was to run home, I had that route memorized like the back of my hand from the days Julian and I were together. But then I realized that the house we had moved into together, the one that now reflects myself, was no longer my home.

That house was full of distant memories; memories of love and loss.

Julian and I moved into that house together, but I was abusive and he left. And all that is left are few bits of furniture only what I needed to get by, a half-empty fridge, months of dust, and tremendous feelings of loneliness, regret, and guilt.

I have not been kind to myself; and this has been a true fact for a very long time.

There are many unhealthy habits and tendencies I’ve formed that ultimately ruined my relationship with Julian. If I were to be with Larson, who's to say that the past won’t repeat itself?

I don’t go to the house I’ve been living in. Instead I somehow, despite my emotionally distraught state, through the tears and sobs, manage to hide in a plastic tunnel in a playground of a local park. I stifle my cries, but let the tears flow, and I think long and hard about everything.

What has my life become?

How did I stray so far from the goals and aspirations I once had?

Who am I?

Who have I become?

I’ve been avoiding so many things for far too long.

Did I really think I could continue the way I was and be happy?

I think some naive part of me hoped that one day I could talk to Julian in person and apologize for everything, and maybe get closure.

But seeing his face at the party, seeing all the hurt and trauma I caused. . . I was a monster to him. I changed him. I did bad things to him. I was horrible and he still has emotional and physical scars.

There is nothing more I can do to make things better between us.

I can’t continue to live the way I have been.

I need to fix myself.

I need help.

~

My phone says it’s five in the morning. I’m sitting in front of Larson’s apartment door. I’m still wearing the clothes I wore to the party. They’re dried, stiff, and sticky from the alcohol and other beverages that were thrown at me by Romeo. My face still shows obvious signs that I was in a fight and that I did a lot of crying.

I am a horrible mess, but I’ve made up my mind about what I want to do; and I need to do it now.

So I sit, back against his apartment door, knees pulled to my chest. My heart is racing and my palms are sweaty. I’m trying to stay calm but I’m anxious.

It feels like forever and I’m starting to doze off when I hear footsteps coming towards me.

A familiar pair of shoes stop right in front of me and when I look up I see Larson. He looks worried and tired.

“Dane?” his voice is hoarse.

Shit.

I try to say something back to him but I sit there like a fish out of water. Too many things run across my mind before I settle on the words I want to say next.

I sigh and quietly ask, “Can I come in?”

Larson also struggles to find the words he wants to say. So I slowly stand up and step aside so I’m not blocking the door.

“We need to talk,” I say softly and look at my feet.

He opens the door and reaches for my hand.

My heart hurts.

I don’t pull my hand hand away and let him guide me to the couch. We sit down together and for a moment I think about how hours before we were happy, and I kissed him.

A lot has changed since then.

Larson starts to ask me where I’ve been and explains that he was out this whole time looking for me. His voice is laced with panic and worry.

My head is spinning and it feels like the weight of the world is on my shoulders but I need to talk, I need to get through this.

I try to find the courage inside me and I look into his eyes.

I wait until he’s done talking before I start to.

“I have a lot I need to say, and I need you to listen. Don’t talk, just listen,” my voice wavers and even though he squeezes my hand to reassure me, I pull away.

My hands rest of my knees instead and tell him about everything, and he listens.

I talk about what happened at the party last night. I talk about the first boy I loved who had these beautiful blue eyes and curly hair, and how I ruined everything. Things between Julian and I were sweet and perfect, but then this monster inside of me began to take control of my actions and thoughts towards him.

I hit him. I yelled. I heart his body, mind, and soul.

I was horrible.

I also talk about how I grew up with parents that weren’t exactly the kindest people. And I wonder how my upbringing connects to my abuse towards Julian.

Talking about those things seemed easier, at least more so than when it came to talking about Larson and I.

I talked out loud about my feelings towards him, about how I did want us to be together, but I am broken.

I am not ready.

I need help.

Right now I can’t invest in us.

“I’m checking into to rehab, and I don’t know how long it’s going to take and I don’t want you to wait for me. I only need you to understand.”

I leave his apartment at six in the morning. I don’t look back, I pack my bags and leave town.

Months separate the present from that morning.