June 2003

Britney's POV

I don't know why I'm sitting outside. It's the middle of the night in New York City, and even though its summer time its still freezing, and I don't even have a jacket on. But then again, I'm not really cold. I guess my emotional numbness has turned into physical numbness as well.

I love this apartment. Its nice and cozy yet still lavish enough for my taste. I love being so high up. I feel so free. Like finally nobody can see me. I let out a small sigh and lean back against the chair as I sit on my balcony, watching the world below me. Maybe this break wasn't such a good idea. It gives me too much time to think; too much time to think about him.

The last time I saw him was about five months ago, at his birthday party. For some reason, after all of the shit he's said about me, after all the things he's done, and even after that dreadful music video, I still went. I walked into that party with a smile on my face, even though I knew that everyone was talking about me. It was so awful. I went up to him to wish him a happy birthday and he was already drunk with some brunette's tongue down his throat. He looked at me as if he was confused as to why I was there, even though he was the one who invited me. Neither of us said anything. We just stood staring for a couple seconds before I turned around and left. I turned around once before I left to see if he was coming after me, but he wasn't.

And then, as if I didn't think he could hurt me a any worse, he starts dating Cameron. It was like a slap in my face how quickly he moved on. The pain I felt the day when I found out is unimaginable. I would've punched him in the face if I had the chance. And I grew to hate a woman that I didn't even know. Thanks to him, I've been full of nothing but hate, anger, sadness, and envy lately.

Now that I'm thinking about all of this my emotional numbness is disappearing and there's an excruciating pain in my heart. A broken heart really is one of the worst feelings ever. I seriously can't take this anymore. I've been through too much pain, too much sorrow, and its all because of him. I hate him…do I? No, of course I don't. I love him, and the love for him never seems to fade. People tell me that it will go away, you'll get over it. But its been over a year, and it just seems to get worse. I can't take this shit anymore. I've dealt with this for too long. I want real emotional numbness. Something that will completely make me forget him, even if just for a moment.

Against my better judgment, I get up from the chair and walk back inside, feeling the heat of the room against my icy skin. My feet drag on the plush carpet of the living room as I'm too lazy to even pick them up. I'm too lazy to do anything these days.

My feet land on the cold tile of the kitchen as I go to open one of the cabinets and take out what I want…no, what I need. I take the top off of the bottle and put it to my nose, my eyes instantly watering as the violent scent of the vodka hits my senses. I take out a small glass and poor it about half way full. I hold the glass of liquid in my right hand, swirling it around as I see my reflection in it. I lick my lips, anticipating the bitter taste but sweet feeling that it will bring me. I raise the glass to my lips but stop as I hear my mother's words in my head.

"Promise me, Britney, that you will never turn to drugs or alcohol. You know you have a very strong addiction gene from your father's side. Don't continue the cycle of Spears' who let addiction get the best of them. Promise me."

I consider her words as I continue to look into the glass. I no longer see my reflection. I see my father's reflection, I see my uncle's reflection, I see my grandfather's reflection. I never thought I would be in this situation. I never thought I would actually understand why people turn to substance abuse. But I understand now, I understand completely. And to be quite honest, I'd much rather be addicted to this glass of vodka than be addicted to him for one more day.

I blink back my tears and take a big gulp, feeling the heat of the alcohol sting my throat and travel down into my stomach. Almost instantly I feel tingly. I take another gulp. My heart has stopped hurting now. I take another. I officially feel happy. I look down at the glass to find it completely empty and I laugh out loud as I realize how fast I drank it. I let a small burp out before I pour myself another glass. I raise the glass in the air, ready to prepare a speech for no one but myself.

"This," I saw out loud, "is to you, Timberlake. To help me forget you. To help me forget all the times that you've hurt me. And to help me forget all the good times we had. Because I don't want to feel pain anymore. So fuck you, and have a nice life."

I giggle in satisfaction before I take another huge gulp. I'm seriously so proud of myself right now. And, might I add, I'm feeling pretty damn good. I think this is the beginning to a beautiful new relationship.

I am suddenly awoken by very loud and obnoxious banging. I open my eyes but quickly close them when I feel the pain shoot through my head. "Who the fuck is that?" I say to myself, startled by how scratchy and quiet my voice is. The banging continues and so does the pain in my head. I hear somebody grunt beside me and my head immediately shoots up. I look around my living room, disregarding the fact that I'm sprawled out on the floor, and I see two of my girlfriends and my brother scattered around the rest of the room. Ohhh, now I remember. After I was already good and drunk I told them to come over and party with me. They must be just as hung-over as I am.

"Brit, get the fucking door," Brian says angrily. I somehow find the strength to push myself off of the floor, trying my best to walk steadily even though everything is spinning and I'm seeing stars. I finally reach the door and open it, and I'm immediately sobered up by the site of my mother.

"Britney Jean-" she starts, but stops dead in her tracks when she takes a moment to look at me. "What the hell happened to you?" She says as her nose scrunches up in disgust. I have no idea what I look like, though I'm sure it can't be pretty.

"I dunno…I was juss.." I try to talk, but my words are still slurring.

"Is that momma?" I hear Brian ask from behind me. She looks surprised to hear his voice, even though he lives in New York too and we always hang out. She pushes past me and walks into my apartment, letting out a sarcastic and somewhat bitter laugh at the empty vodka bottles and drunk girls, along with her drunk son and daughter.

"What did I tell you about drinking?" She says angrily as she begins to pick up the mess that we made.

"Maaaa," Brian says as he rubs his eyes, "What are you doing? Those are ours." He obviously can't see that we completely destroyed those bottled and there's nothing left.

"What kind of example is this to be setting for your sister?" She says in a venomous tone. She's definitely pissed. "Britney, I'm gonna make you breakfast and you need to go and shower. Did you forget that you have an interview today? Your album comes out in five months and we need to get this ball rollin." She continues to talk nonsense and she kicks the two girls in their sides, forcing them to wake up. She hands me today's newspaper, knowing that I like to read it in the morning.

I block out what she's saying as I grab the paper and walk into my bedroom, quickly turning on the hot water in my shower before I open it up to take a quick peak. I turn to the entertainment section and my heart stops.

Timberlake Reveals Love For Diaz

I read the article carefully, absolutely terrified as to what it might say.

"I have more fun with her than I have with anybody else." "She's beautiful, inside and out." "She's got me hooked, man. She really does."

I feel hot tears on my cheeks as I read the words. I don't understand. How could our relationship come to this. Still do this day I can't picture myself without him and here he is talking about some new bitch who I can guarantee isn't even half of what I am. I look at myself in the mirror and resist the urge to punch the reflection in the glass. I hate him. I hate her. I hate myself.

I step in the shower and let the hot water run over my body, hoping that it will wash away all the pain that this man has brought me. I start to feel that pain in my heart again, and it hurts, really bad. I want it gone. But I don't worry, because I know exactly how to make it go away, and I can't wait. This is going to be an ugly cycle.