A/N: Hi! Welcome to my Michael and Amanda fanfiction! I have noticed a serious lack of Amanda and Michael fics and people repeatedly requesting more, so I thought I'd try my hand at writing one! Please don't forget to leave a review if you enjoyed this story or want to give me feedback! Also, please note that this is going to be multi-chaptered, so follow if you enjoy it!
Thank you!

Triggers in this chapter: Very brief mention of self harm.

If I could change anything, it would be the way I am. No doubt in my mind to what I would say if someone offered a magical spell that had the power to control one thing. Though, maybe the cure for cancer or world peace or something like that would be high up there, but I am selfish. I am selfish and I'll admit it to anyone if you get me drunk enough.

But, if I had a wish to change the type of sarcastic person that I am, I'd no longer be cruel or self-centered. Maybe I'd just be happy and relaxed. When I was living with Amanda, I was the most relaxed I think that I'll ever be. Ah, yes. Washed up, utterly depressed, and watching the day fade into the night in front of my swimming pool every day of the week.
"Relaxed".

I found myself missing the days of Amanda screaming at me, Tracey going out and acting like a true Los Santos local, Jimmy spiritually worshipping his video games, and me wondering where everything went wrong. Life seemed much duller in my one bedroom apartment near Vinewood Hills and the Vinewood Garage that wasn't very far from my old house that was still in my name. After a spat with Amanda that involved her and a package delivery man, we not-so-calmly decided that we should take a break.
How long that break may be? No clue. Depending on how long she chose to continue her relationship with the mailman determined how long I'd be gone, assuming I would come back or be invited back.

My life in an apartment meant for middle class citizens wasn't too bad. On my first day, my neighbor's daughter, who is seven, knocked on my door with a welcoming plate of cookies. She was a sweet girl who made amazing sugar cookies along with a few shapeless gingerbread snacks. I'd never had a neighbor, let alone a kid, offer me anything for existing next to them. It was a feeling that I enjoyed since I wasn't welcomed often at my house or anywhere. It makes me wonder where I truly would be invited at if the world knew what kind of person I was. The type of person that parents warn their kids about and bring up in conversation about why it is important to lock their doors at night.

Here I sit in my stuffy apartment with my cellphone sitting on the couch cushion next to me, all of my other items in various boxes scattered around my new home. My mind tries to think of anything other than Amanda, but I can't stop it. Before I know it, I'm reaching for my cellphone.
I picked up my phone hesitantly and called Amanda, wondering why I even bothered as I dialed her number. Why couldn't I just let this go? Why was I so determined to stay with someone who cheated? Yes, I am not a saint, but I try to do my best. I'd gave up on prostitutes and cheap women several months ago when I promised my wife I'd stay faithful. Actually, we had both made that promise, but I discovered not even a day later that a plumber was helping her break that promise in our shared bedroom.

I heard her voice on the line harshly ask when she picked up, "What? You miss me already, Michael? We don't miss you. Me and my new boyfriend are having a blast. We-"
I cut her off before I got upset, knowing my temper that I could snap at any moment. I said, "Listen, Mandy, I was wondering if you wanted to go get some coffee? Or maybe a film? I- Can we just be civil? That's all I ask. I just want us to go out and talk things through like adults. No fighting."

To my surprise, she was quiet for a minute. She wasn't tearing into me and telling me how much of a pathetic nobody I was. Amanda responded to me with a sigh that followed with, "Fine. Coffee. I ain't seeing Meltdown for the fifteenth time just so that you can see your name on the screen for a split second. Meet me near the Bean Machine by our- I mean my house, okay? And please, try not to bring the whole entire law enforcement branch with you. Again."

She hung up before I could explain how it wasn't my fault that the cops were pigs, the line going dead. After replaying the conversation in my head, I stood up with a large smile, wincing a little. I would have did a short happy dance if my self-inflicted wounds didn't hurt badly. The scratches and cuts hurt, but what could I do?
Hurting myself was just the type of person I was.