My mind had long ago receded deep into the void, and now I was functioning
on automatic, just like the flashy car someone had bought me. Or maybe I
bought it. I don't think I would've thought of buying such a cheap, shiny,
fake thing. No soul, no heart, no spirit. Maybe I'd bought it, or someone
else had bought it, as a reflection of the man I'd become, changed forever
by my lifestyle, shaped by the turmoils of my heart.
I had become obsessed, making books and books of clippings I'd found in magazines from ten years ago, spending hours leafing through magazines in newsagents searching for a sign that he still existed, that he ever existed. Gradually that obsession had morphed into a growing fascination of death, how I could die.
The idea of cutting deep into my wrist and watching the blood seep from the slit across my white skin made me tingle. I longed to feel that desire, that freedom. But I didn't have the strength to do it. I tried and tried and the knife would stare up at me, glinting in the soft moonlight, cold and hard and alien, mocking me as I battled the numbness knowing I would lose.
So I thought of another way. If I took the pills sitting innocently in my bathroom cupboard, I could fall asleep and I would never have to wake up, I could surrender to the peace I found when I lay in bed at night, drifting between sleep and wake.
It had taken a while to feel the need to do it, and now I had that need. Tommy Stone, my former lover, had publically denied my existence. I was truly dead to him. No flicker of emotion had crossed his plastic features, no flame lit in the depth of those blue eyes. I thought he'd loved me.
I was a fucking idiot to think he could ever, would ever love me. He'd said it so many times I'd believed him, and maybe he believed it too, but it was a lie. We were doomed when he first saw me playing at that fucking concert. I was a plaything, a rebound from Mandy at the end, something to say he'd done, a story. An experience to make his life not seem empty and devoid of feeling.
So I took the pills.
As they slipped down my throat, one after the other, I wondered what my life would've been like without him.
And as I surrendered to the sleep that rose through my body and engulfed me gently, I knew the answer.
Empty.
I had become obsessed, making books and books of clippings I'd found in magazines from ten years ago, spending hours leafing through magazines in newsagents searching for a sign that he still existed, that he ever existed. Gradually that obsession had morphed into a growing fascination of death, how I could die.
The idea of cutting deep into my wrist and watching the blood seep from the slit across my white skin made me tingle. I longed to feel that desire, that freedom. But I didn't have the strength to do it. I tried and tried and the knife would stare up at me, glinting in the soft moonlight, cold and hard and alien, mocking me as I battled the numbness knowing I would lose.
So I thought of another way. If I took the pills sitting innocently in my bathroom cupboard, I could fall asleep and I would never have to wake up, I could surrender to the peace I found when I lay in bed at night, drifting between sleep and wake.
It had taken a while to feel the need to do it, and now I had that need. Tommy Stone, my former lover, had publically denied my existence. I was truly dead to him. No flicker of emotion had crossed his plastic features, no flame lit in the depth of those blue eyes. I thought he'd loved me.
I was a fucking idiot to think he could ever, would ever love me. He'd said it so many times I'd believed him, and maybe he believed it too, but it was a lie. We were doomed when he first saw me playing at that fucking concert. I was a plaything, a rebound from Mandy at the end, something to say he'd done, a story. An experience to make his life not seem empty and devoid of feeling.
So I took the pills.
As they slipped down my throat, one after the other, I wondered what my life would've been like without him.
And as I surrendered to the sleep that rose through my body and engulfed me gently, I knew the answer.
Empty.