I felt sick, not the kind of sick, like you're going to throw up kind of sick. But still stick. Stick like you have that feeling way deep down in your stomach, that you have done something horribly wrong, and everything you do, you can't take that feeling away. It stays with you, and follows you around like some sick puppy. Never letting you go.
It's creepy, in a sort of way.
Now things are getting worse, and you're running out of ideas, of how to feel ok, or to at least numb the pain, a little more, and more.
Just plain, good'ol alcohol was working at some point...when did it stop you think?
I think around the third week, it just was not working as well as it used to.
Now it's your good pal drugs turn, you don't care what kind, your even how you get it, even if it means getting on your knees, you'll get it, cause money means drugs, and drugs means numbness...which in turn means, you forget. You forget, just for that wonderful, bliss full moment, that nothing is wrong, everything is fine, and 'fucking dandy and everything is rainbows and shit, you like that. You smile, but then it comes to it's horrible brain sucking end, you start to realize, and that feeling comes back, but worse, worse than before, but all you need is one more shot, one more, and that will be it, the end of it all, you tell yourself that, that it will be the last one. So of course you take that one more shot, just a little knot on the 'old arm, and then a slide in, and there it goes, and you back in your prefect little world...
A little thought can't help but past through your mind though, how long will it last, this time?
When will you have to find something else, something a little harder, a little longer lasting? People say your pushing to 'far' well, you say, 'far' was a long time ago dearie.
So you mind as well, tag along for the 'fucking ride, cause were not done yet.
When your mind starts to come back, with the old, nagging feeling, that you know you must stop, you're out of your wonderful juice, and all you have are some old pill's that stopped working for yeah, a long time ago, you stare at the bottle. And give one of your smiles showing off your nothing to none of your yellow teeth, you mind as well try them, what harm, Hun?
There are worst things, out there. So you pop out two pills, or maybe four? Maybe more. Who counts anymore anyway? There is really no point.
After downing the pill's, with something in a bottle that was the only thing in your tiny little stick of a fridge, you slink back in your chair, and decided it's a good time for a nap. What harm, could there be? It's late and you suppose no one will come at this late at night anyway. You close your eyes, and welcome the darkness.
When did you become this tired?
You fall asleep with only a ticking of your small clock hanging on your small wall.
The next morning people find you, well he finds you, at first he's mad as hell, cause you promised you would stop doing this...and he's yelling and screaming, not even realizing what happened, he just walks out the door, well more of a run; but not really, He slams the door, it's a no wonder why it did not break, and fall down.
No else comes till later, your best friend actually, again mad as hell, but not as much yelling, I guess he's use to it more.
He walks over, and slams a hand on your desk, to try and wake you, when it's does not work, he yells, when that does not work, he just stares, at you, like a broken toy... "no, no' no, don't be—" He mutters, or something like that…
Calls are being made, people are yelling, and swearing, oh lots of swearing, if you could, you would be laughing your ass off.
People start to show up, and crying starts to happen, you think too bad you're not there to tell people to smarten up, and stop all this girly crap.
When your put in that car, he starts to yell, again at you, about how you broke your promise, and that he hates you.
You know he doesn't hate you, but you kind of wish he did, then maybe he would have never meet yeah, and he would be ok, right now.
That is the last you see of them, with all of them crying, and there not the types to cry, believe me, you hope they will move on at lease, and not live in the past, you hope he won't hate you forever, and will learn to forgive yeah, it's not like you wanted to leave him.
But, you had to; it was too hard to deal with every day.
To deal, with that feeling, but it's over know.
You're free.