AND THERE I WAS. JAILED.
Everything had already passed my mind. All the rationalizations, all the justifications, all the suffering, all that painful and suicidal guilt. My usual mental state during jail days was definitely a mix of self-anger and misery, which was nothing new to me... But sometimes, if I was lucky, I felt that nothing was my fault, it was all Cuddy's fault. That made me much better. It made me dangerously aggressive too, and I could have been killed a couple of times by the bad guys here if it weren't my allies. But the interior peace I could feel, even if it went with huge anger against Cuddy, was worth it. At least I wasn't angry at me, and that would take away my pain, of course not in the leg, but in my consciousness. Yeah, I have one of these too. Anyway, it was hard to believe in that story sometimes, though. Of course, cause it's not true. And also because I know I'm screwed up and that I "just" did a stupid thing, Cuddy hardly has any responsibility in that... What I did was - I haven't come up with a word to describe that yet - but let's say it was just a very stupid shit...
Yeah, this is ironic: I still can't believe I did THAT, even after all this time, prisoned in my thoughts. I never felt more in jail. I know I actually am in jail. But I'm talking about a real jail, not this illusion of an "efficient" punitive system - I'll make my point afterwards -, but a psychological jail. I'm prisoned between my life before the "accident" and the life after... well, jail. I'm in the middle of two, very likely, TOTALLY different lives. But, for now, all I can do is eat, play chess, think, and be in pain. Nothing else. Sometimes, there's something I can get distracted with, but it won't take all my time. I still have plenty of that. To do nothing... so, there I was. I was jailed.
I'm just waiting. Waiting to get out and do something with my life. Anything. I want to move on. I want to have my life back. But, if I was gonna try to get that back, it wouldn't be easy at all. Maybe impossible. Probably impossible. It would be much easier to have a new start. A blank sheet.
Blank sheets... They scare everyone. Who am I kidding, this wasn't easy also. I know I'd been miserable in my "old" life. But I liked who I was. I didn't want to be another person. To do other things rather than solving puzzles and eventually curing people. Not that I care. It's just something other people value, and that made me valuable. At least for my mom, Wilson and Cuddy... that bitch. Of course it was her fault. Not that I was in jail. It was her fault that our relationship didn't work out. It was her side that blew up our thing. I was doing the best of myself. I know I took Vicodin, but it was a conscious move. I considered it, and realized I couldn't make her happy at that specific moment without it. She should know I wasn't going to change. And she acted like a real bitch when we broke up too.
Still, I have no idea why, I still liked her. I told you, I don't know why. Maybe that's why. Cause there isn't any reason at all for me to like her. At least, not anymore. Unfortunately, the time I passed here, thinking and remembering and conjecturing... it made me forget all her flaws, all the things I hated on her. I swear, I just can't remember why I started hating her. Maybe I never hated her. I just hated him. That guy who was with her in the D-day... I'm still confused. I do hate her. I hate her for not loving me anymore. For not caring about my feelings. For hurting me. For ignoring me and moving on after all our history together. And, most importantly, for not forgiving me...
I did deserve forgiveness from her. We were together, for god sake! I did an extreme effort to be with her when she most needed me, and so I was. She did NO effort to forgive me. She didn't even care to listen to my explanation! THAT was unforgivable. Everybody knew I would eventually screw up, and that should be totally forgivable, I'm HUMAN - even though I act like god sometimes - I make mistakes too! You know, the way she ended it, not even hearing my side of the story, was such a cruel thing to do. Not putting into account all the progress we made from unresolved love to an actual relationship. We loved each other, so I didn't deserve that coldness from her. All in all, I was being a nice boyfriend, caring about her, bonding with Rachel, amazing sex... I was good in that! In being her boyfriend! Not perfect, no. Neither was she. But who is? Perfection is boring.
In fact, I think what most saddens me is that I don't exactly know why she stopped liking me - if she ever did - or why she gave up on us. I needed to know what went wrong with us. It couldn't possibly be the Vicodin. I knew that. She was looking for any excuse to dump me, since those last weeks before the break-up. And she found, of course she would eventually find something. Shit. I so didn't want it to end that way. So final. So irreparable… Cuddy was my last puzzle I was struggling to solve. I don't know if I'm ever getting close to a solution for that. I was probably never seeing her again. Maybe Wilson could tell me what she may have told him. I doubt it was gonna help, though. In fact, I think Cuddy didn't know her own puzzle too.