Who I Am Is Quite Enough

There was one thing that every addict always thought about. I can stop. I can stop anytime I want. I'll admit I was fucking stupid enough to believe that at one point. Addicts don't get it. They just don't get it. That drug, that smoke, that attention, that one thing you have to have is not something that you can lose. It will destroy everything you have ever worked for in your entire life before you even begin to think you have a problem. My addiction, it destroyed my career, my friends, my life. Those drugs I took to feel something other than that anger I felt inside ended up hurting the only person I had ever cared about besides myself.

I hurt him. I did god awful things to him, and he stayed. He stayed through it all. God, he went to the hospital dozens of times because of me, but he never left, never. A shiver ran down my spine just thinking about it. How could I hurt him? He meant more than anything else in the world to me, but when I was high, I wasn't myself. I didn't think about what happened, and when I was sober, all I thought about was getting high. Why didn't I see it sooner? None of this would have happened, if I had just stopped. But, I didn't, so here I was.

They ripped him from my fingertips. They took him from me when he didn’t say he wanted to leave. No, stop it Ronnie. They didn't do this. You did this. It was my fault. I had to tell myself that because every time I thought about him, I just got angry. He told me he would never leave, and he didn't. They made him leave. He couldn't ruin his life for me. I knew that. A part of me sometimes wished that he picked me over them, but then I remember the scars all down his back, scars I caused. And, I knew he couldn't pick me. If he picked me, he would die.

Everything was different now. I was different. Those bitter years in prison changed me. I'm clean now, clean and sober. A part of me realized what truly mattered, and the second I got out of prison, I swore to myself I would go after those things.

That's why I was here. That's why I was standing outside this familiar house with the familiar peeling blue paint and the black roof. It hadn't changed. They grey cobblestones were the same mismatched stones that lead to his rickety porch with old wood he convinced everyone was completely safe, but in reality, everyone knew not to stand on it too long. You never knew when it might crumble beneath your feet.

I brought my newly tattooed hand up to knock on the red door once, twice, three times. My weight shifted from my left foot to my right and then back again. He would take me back, wouldn't he? There was nothing wrong with me now. Everything was okay. He would take me back. He had to, just had to. My life was only so fulfilling without him. Who knew even with all these people loving me, I could still feel so empty inside?

There was a laugh from the other side, and the door opened to the familiar man. His tan skin hadn't changed along with his short stature. The blonde, choppy hair on his head though did. When did he change it? Although, this was a good face to see, it wasn't who I was here for.

"Monte, is Max home?" I asked with a nervousness surrounding me.

Monte's face paled, eyes going wide. He hadn't seen me in a while. I'm sure it was a shock for me to just come uninvited. Suddenly, his face changed from one of shock and surprise to one of pure and utter fury. And, before I knew it, I was looking at the familiar red door again. That bitch just slammed the door in my face! Like, what the fuck? I know we didn't exactly leave on the best of terms, but come on!

I knocked again, this time a little more harshly than the last.

Another person appeared at the door, this one taller than the last. His curly hair longer than I had remembered, and he wasn't wearing his glasses. Similar to Monte, Robert's eyes widened slightly, but he was always one to not over react.

"Hey, Rob. Max home?" I asked. My awkward nervous feeling was gone, and I had to try to not be pissed. Monte was being a little bitch, but hopefully not Robert.

"Close the fucking door on him!" Monte yelled from somewhere inside.

I sighed but tried not to yell something back at him.

Robert turned to scream, "I'll do as I damn please." He turned back to me. "Boy, where have you been?" He was smiling, showing his always white teeth, so that was good.

I chuckled at his all too familiar ways. He was never one to follow orders well. He would most likely go against them, if you told him to do something. "I've been around. What about you?"

"Here and there. Band's been doing pretty good, just got back from a world tour. We went to Germany and shit like that." He shrugged.

"Yeah," I nodded. "I saw that somewhere. It seemed pretty huge."

"You lookin us up, Radke?" He asked with an eyebrow raised.

"Eh, you could say that. Hey man, is Max home? I really need to talk to him." I tried again.

He shook his head. "Sorry man," He said. "No can do."

"What?" I asked baffled.

"Look," he started. "Monte's made a strict policy to not let you see him, and the little fucker is really enforcing this one. He doesn't think you're good for him, man. I'm sorry there is nothing I can do."

"Come on, Rob," I pleaded, begged. "You got to let me see him. I just want to talk to him, please."

He shook his head. "Sorry, Ronnie. I really can't help you. It's best you just leave it."

I just stood there shocked. I had traveled all this way. I had post-ponded my tour. I did everything I could to see him, and now my friends wouldn't let me see him. This couldn't be happening. It wasn't like I was going to hurt him. I changed. Didn't they know that? I was fucking sober for years now, not even a cigerette was near me anymore. This was all I wanted since I got out. I left my addiction for drugs behind me, but I was still addicted to him. I would always be addicting to him.

Suddenly, a single ray of hope was left for me yet. "Who the fuck are you idiots talking to?" My own personal drug asked, walking up to the door. He looked over Rob's shoulder, and goddamnit his perfect green eyes were still the exact same thing I fell in love with.

"R-Ronnie?" He stuttered. His tiny body still behind Robert's, but I could see flawless, pale skin, his dark hair, and his long arms I used to hold above him when we were alone. He was a sight for sore fucking eyes.

"Hey, Maxie," I replied with a smile. "Can we talk?"

Robert looked over at him. There was one thing about him that I always loved, and right now it was coming in handy. It didn't matter if Monte set a rule for someone to follow. If they wanted to do it, Robert wouldn't stop them.

"Um, yeah, s-sure." He replied, stepping out onto the porch with me. I knew he just didn't want Robert and Monte to hear us. I'm sure he thought it was something important. He sat down on the steps next to me, but still kept a slight distance. That alone killed me. "What did you want to talk about?" He fiddled with his lip ring when he spoke. It was a nervous habit of his.

"I . . . I don't really know," I chuckled slightly. "I just wanted to tell you that . . . that I'm ready to be new again. I just wanted to hear you say who I am is quite enough."

I looked over to see him messing with his shoes on the step below him. It took him a while to reply, long enough for my hands, which I were leaning on, to go numb. "What are we to do with you?" He mumbled.

"What?"

He sighed. "I don't know who you are anymore, Ronnie. As much as I would love to tell you everything is okay, I honestly don't know. So many things have happened since the last time we saw each other."

I shook my head. "You don't know where I've been, Max. You don't know the things I've done."

"Exactly," he said a little louder than before. "I don't know where you've been. I don't know what you've done, and you just show up at my house. What did you think I was going to do? Damnit Ronnie! You can't do this to me."

"What am I doing? I just wanted to talk to you. I thought that maybe you would realize that everything I had done since I was released was because of you. I started over. All I thought was that maybe . . . maybe we could, too." I admitted.

He looked back to his shoes. "You were gone for a long time, and you just show up thinking things are going to go back to the way they were before?"

"Well, I thought-"

"No, you didn't think!" He yelled, standing up. I had to crane my neck to look at him now. "You never think, Ronnie! You never have. All you do is what you want. It has never mattered what I wanted. Did you ever once think that while you were doping up you weren't just hurting yourself?" His voice was cracking, and there was a gleam in his eyes from held back tears.

"Max-"

"No," he interrupted again. "Ever since you've been out I had been dreading this day because it would be the day that I would have to finally admit to you that is it hurt every single time I had to see you like that. It hurt so fucking bad, and I never want to even think about it anymore. I hope you have a fantastic tour, and I know you'll be kick-ass. This will be good for you."

He walked to the front door, and I scrambled to my feet. "None of it will matter, if I can't have you."

He turned to look at me. "Who said you ever lost me?"