Need
She's looking at me, her brown eyes wet with tears. She isn't the kind of girl whose face turns red when she cries…She's just…the same. There's always the same, white skin, the same red lips, the same dark eyes. She cries a lot more than she used to. Sometimes she cries for a reason. Sometimes, she doesn't have a reason.
Right now, she tells me it's because she's so happy to be with me. I smile and tell her I love her. I pull her slender body against mine run my fingers down her spine, feeling each vertebrate. For someone so full of energy, like a bomb constantly on the verge of an explosion, she's so fragile. She puts up this wall in front of everyone, acting like the tough girl she wishes she was. People buy the act. No one thinks she could be any other way.
No one except me; I can see through her mask. I know what she really is, who she really is, what she really wants. I know she's faking her personality in front of everyone else for fear of showing them the slightest bit of weakness. She shows me everything about her. She comes to me for comfort. I give it to her and ask for nothing in return. I love her. I've loved her since the first moment I saw her, that startled, scrawny little girl. A friend of a friend.
She is content with our relationship. I help her cope with her problems. I tell her she's beautiful. I make love to her. She is happy. I am happy. We've had arguments, we've been apart from each other…but in the end, we've always gotten back together. No matter what, she knows I'm there for her. I know she's there for me. Without each other, we wouldn't pull through.
Leaving her to go onto bigger things was a difficult choice…one that I hope to never have to make again. When she followed me onto the train, I thought she might come with me…be with me. I did not want to force her to. She said she was not going to just "be my woman," and I respected that. I wanted her to make her own life. If our paths crossed again, so be it. I said good-bye to her that day.
And now, here we are, together again, as if nothing ever happened.
But things have happened.
She thinks I am the same as I used to be. I don't want her to see the changes I've made. I can't show her that I'm not the strong man she thinks I am. She needs someone to hold on to. If she could see through me, she would know. She would think that everything I say to her is a front…and she would think that because she does it so often, herself, to the other people in her life. I have no option; I have to be strong for her. The day she finds out about my secrets is the day everything falls apart.
I can't live without her.
She doesn't realize it…or, maybe she does, but she does so much for me. I want to be able to tell her that. I want to be honest with her. I want to tell her everything about me, have her see through the front that I've constructed. She trusts me…I want to justify that trust.
I am alone now. She left a few minutes ago; indie bands always have early mornings and odd schedules. I'm in the bathroom; I can still smell her perfume on my skin. She always smells like flowers.
I rub the sleep out of my dry eyes. I run my tongue over my teeth, look at my reflection in the mirror. Tired. I always look tired. I always feel tired…but she still loves me. She still smiles at me, laughs at my stupid jokes. When I see her in my mind, I see her smiling, her eyes bright with laughter. I don't like to think of what she looks like when she cries. If she finds out…I'll see her cry again. I know I will.
The vile between my fingers is shaking. My hand is shaking. I realize my entire body is shivering. Every part of me needs this…but for what? For some sort of false sense of security, or a rush of adrenaline I can't get on the stage anymore? Is this worth risking everything I've built with her…everything I've built with all of the people that I care for? I am risking everything for nothing.
I am risking everything for my own selfish pleasure.
When I'm high, I don't even think about her. I can't go on like this. I can't go on pushing myself farther away from her. She'll figure it out; she's a smart girl. I don't want to leave her in the dark. I don't want to push her away from me but I know that if I continue down this road I'm on, I will.
The rush…
My mind is speeding up, out of the fog I'd been living in since my last hit. I blink a few times and sniff, rubbing my nose upon the sharp sensation of pain. The pain is short lived; it vanishes within a few moments and I am back to my euphoria. I am taking more now. Just as when I started playing guitar, the more often I performed in front of people, the easier it became…I grew bored with playing in garages and moved on to live houses…and from there, the audiences I faced were thousands in auditoriums.
I want to call her and tell her I love her. I want…I want to go back to the way things used to be.
There is a sound…laughter. I'm laughing at myself, at my own stupidity. My mouth is curled into a grin. My fingers grip the counter's edge. The razor blade I've been using for so long sits close to my hands, gleaming victoriously in the fluorescent light. I push it away, it falls with a thunk into the trash can. I stumble backward, my bare back leaning against the wall. I squeeze my eyes shut.
I am alone. I want to be able to change again. I want to get rid of this vice. I want to be able to hold her in my arms again and not have to worry about what might happen. I don't want to admit to myself that I am scared…scared of what will happen when she sees what I really am.
I can't lose her…but I know that the more I allow myself to use, the sooner it will happen. She will push me away, call me a liar.
…I have to tell her the truth…
