~Across The Universe~
*Chapter Two*
"Walking After You"
The first day I walked out of the facility, I found myself fighting the overwhelming urge to run back behind the iron gates, and scream "I'm not ready! I can't handle this!!" I wanted to run. I wanted to hide. I wanted to die.
I thought that my first few days of rehab were bad. But they were nothing compared to this. Back then, I was in unbearable, unimaginable, physical pain. My brain was in overdrive one minute, and would shut down completely the next. My skin felt like it was being torn off of my body. And everything and everyone around me was a fucking demon from hell, trying to rip out my soul.
Now, I stood out in the open air, drug and alcohol free for the first time in nearly two years.
And I was in Hell.
*
I walked into my apartment, and was surprised to see that my stuff was still there. My Mom had come by once, when I was in the facility, to tell me that she was paying my rent, but that as soon as I was out, I had to move. She was giving me two weeks to get a new place. Two fucking weeks. In New York City. That's funny.
I stood in the middle of my place, and noticed, for the first time, that it was completely fucking thrashed. There were empty bottles all over the place, dirty clothes and dished lining the sticky, smelly floor, and a dried out bong in the corner of the room. I was shocked, truely amazed, that my Mom had not even taken the time to clear out the drug paraphenalia. I smiled half-heartedly, and went to my nightstand, and pulled open the drawer. Inside, much to my saddened amazement, there was the rest of my heroin, a few syringes, and my Zippo. Un-fucking-believable.
It took every ounce of energy I had not to shoot up right there and then. I should have been proud of myself, but I wasn't. I wasn't proud, because instead of throwing the drugs away, I put them into my secret emergency stash. It was a video cassette case, hidden in one of the milk crates that I had been using as a bookshelf. The video case said, "Chick & Duck Highlights, 1997~by Joey T. and Chandler B." I have no fucking clue what I did with that tape. That makes me sad, now that I can feel again.
*
I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, I was awoken by someone knocking on my front door. I pulled myself up off of my mattress, and that's when it hit me--I was exhausted. I had no idea that clean and sober could be this fucking tiring. I shuffled to the door, and was taken aback, but not shocked, to see Joey and Ross on the other side.
"Hey," was all I could think to say. It's remarkable, really, because I should have been able to at least work out a decent "thank you" or something. I am sure I'd be dead right now if it weren't for these guys. But a part of me wanted them to leave me the hell alone. A part of me wanted them to stay the fuck out of my life, and let me deteriorate in peace. I really didn't think I was worth all this trouble.
***~***
"Hey," Chandler said, as he opened the door. I really didn't know what to say to that. It was a pretty neutral greeting, and I couldn't figure out if he was still mad at us or not. We all just kind of stood there, for a really long time. The Ross decided to say something.
"Can we talk to you for a minute, man?"
"Sure, yeah, uh, sorry. Come in." Chandler gestured for us to come in, and that was when it hit me. There was no place to sit in his place. His mattress was on the floor, and, other than a nightstand, which looked really weird next to one mattress, and a few milk crates full of books, he had no furniture. Of course, he didn't take anything when he left our place. He took some clothes, and a few other things, but he left so fast...
"How are you feeling?" The conversation was forced, and very strained. Ross was trying to make the best of a horrible situation.
"Okay. Weird. A little lost," Chandler laughed, and it was the first time I'd seen his smile in years. It was an uncomfortable smile, but I was willing to take what I could get. Before he left, I had had a tough time remembering what Chandler looked like when he *wasn't* smiling. Now, I struggled to recall the man that used to be my best friend. I wanted to cry, right there and then, cause I knew that the man I knew--was dead.
"Well, uh, your Mom called me, and said that you had to move out of here, so, uh, we have a place for you."
"Ross--"
"Before you say anything, it was not my idea. And you'll have to pay rent...it's not a hand out. I just...I know how hard it is to find a place in this city. And you'll be subletting, so the rent isn't that bad."
"Subletting?"
"Yeah. It's uh, it's Ugly Naked Guy's place. He's subletting, and we thought that--"
"You'd be able to keep an eye on me," Chandler said sadly. It's weird, I thought he'd be mad. But he looked so sad. Like he'd lost something. Maybe he did. Maybe he would never be able to get back what he lost, and maybe he's realized it.
"No, Chandler. Well, kind of. We want you back in our lives. *All* of us."
"Did you tell Monica? About me?" The absolute sadness and hopelessness in Chandler's voice was almost too much to bear. I just wanted to hug him, but he was still so thin...I didn't want to hurt him.
I looked at Ross, who was busy contemplating what to tell Chandler. In the end, he opted for the Truth.
"Yes, I told her. They all know. And they all want to help you...come back."
I was shocked that Ross told Chandler. And that he took full responsibility for something I had done.
~*~
(15 months earlier)
"C'mon Joey, just come out with us," Phoebe was pleading, while the others stood behind her, near the door.
"I wanna sit in my chair," I said stubbornly.
"I...I can stay home, if it'll make it easier," Monica said quietly. The others shook their heads, and disagreed fiercely with the idea. That pissed me off, so I stood up, and confronted Monica.
"You know, Monica, you aren't the only one hurting from all this. You have no idea...no idea what--"
"Joey, don't," Ross warned, but I was determined to tell them. They needed to know, just how awful it had been for me and Ross.
"Don't what, Ross? Don't tell them, that we saw Chandler a couple months ago? That he was so fucked up, that he barely recognized us? That we found him on the bathroom floor of that SHITHOLE he calls an apartment, with a needle in his arm? And that we put him in rehab, knowing that he'd hate us both for the rest of his life? We should have told them. We should have told them a long time ago, because they deserve to know. *She* deserves to know what he's done to himself!!"
I was out of control. All of the anger that I had felt toward Monica exploded in one moment. I left the apartment, and four speechless friends behind. I left Ross to clean up the mess I'd made.
***~***
Ross had asked me if I wanted to go with them to visit Chandler, now that he was out of rehab. But I couldn't. I knew I wasn't ready to face Chandler. The weight of responsibility and guilt is heavy on my shoulders, and I feel it escalate every time Joey looks at me. He is so protective of his best friend, almost to a fault. But I don't blame him for hating me. Phoebe hates me too, a little, I think. She will talk to me, but it isn't the same. I can see it in her eyes. She doesn't trust me anymore.
Rachel has stuck by me the way that Joey has stuck by Chandler. The night Joey told us about Chandler, I felt like my entire world, fragile as it had been before, collapse completely. Rachel held me, all night, as I cried. I have never felt so horrible, so guilty, so...sad. I wanted to kill myself, it was honestly that bad. I managed to pull myself together enough to eventually go back to work, but my life since that night has never been the same. It never will be the same. I live in a tunnel, where I am only able to see what I need to see. If I strain to see more, the pain will overtake me, and I will sink into oblivion.
I wonder if this is the way Chandler felt, before he fell.
~*~
Walking After You
(The Foo Fighters)
Tonight I'm tangled in my blanket of clouds
Dreaming aloud
Things just won't do without you, matter of fact
I'm on your back, I'm on your back, I'm on your back
If you walk out on me, I'm walking after you
If you walk out on me, I'm walking after you
If you'd accept surrender, I'll give up some more
Weren't you adored
I cannot be without you, matter of fact
I'm on your back, I'm on your back, I'm on your back
If you walk out on me, I'm walking after you
If you walk out on me, I'm walking after you
Another heart is cracked in two, I'm on your back
I cannot be without you, matter of fact
I'm on your back, I'm on your back, I'm on your back
If you walk out on me, I'm walking after you
If you walk out on me, I'm walking after you
If you walk out on me, I'm walking after you
Another heart is cracked in two, I'm on your back
*Chapter Two*
"Walking After You"
The first day I walked out of the facility, I found myself fighting the overwhelming urge to run back behind the iron gates, and scream "I'm not ready! I can't handle this!!" I wanted to run. I wanted to hide. I wanted to die.
I thought that my first few days of rehab were bad. But they were nothing compared to this. Back then, I was in unbearable, unimaginable, physical pain. My brain was in overdrive one minute, and would shut down completely the next. My skin felt like it was being torn off of my body. And everything and everyone around me was a fucking demon from hell, trying to rip out my soul.
Now, I stood out in the open air, drug and alcohol free for the first time in nearly two years.
And I was in Hell.
*
I walked into my apartment, and was surprised to see that my stuff was still there. My Mom had come by once, when I was in the facility, to tell me that she was paying my rent, but that as soon as I was out, I had to move. She was giving me two weeks to get a new place. Two fucking weeks. In New York City. That's funny.
I stood in the middle of my place, and noticed, for the first time, that it was completely fucking thrashed. There were empty bottles all over the place, dirty clothes and dished lining the sticky, smelly floor, and a dried out bong in the corner of the room. I was shocked, truely amazed, that my Mom had not even taken the time to clear out the drug paraphenalia. I smiled half-heartedly, and went to my nightstand, and pulled open the drawer. Inside, much to my saddened amazement, there was the rest of my heroin, a few syringes, and my Zippo. Un-fucking-believable.
It took every ounce of energy I had not to shoot up right there and then. I should have been proud of myself, but I wasn't. I wasn't proud, because instead of throwing the drugs away, I put them into my secret emergency stash. It was a video cassette case, hidden in one of the milk crates that I had been using as a bookshelf. The video case said, "Chick & Duck Highlights, 1997~by Joey T. and Chandler B." I have no fucking clue what I did with that tape. That makes me sad, now that I can feel again.
*
I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, I was awoken by someone knocking on my front door. I pulled myself up off of my mattress, and that's when it hit me--I was exhausted. I had no idea that clean and sober could be this fucking tiring. I shuffled to the door, and was taken aback, but not shocked, to see Joey and Ross on the other side.
"Hey," was all I could think to say. It's remarkable, really, because I should have been able to at least work out a decent "thank you" or something. I am sure I'd be dead right now if it weren't for these guys. But a part of me wanted them to leave me the hell alone. A part of me wanted them to stay the fuck out of my life, and let me deteriorate in peace. I really didn't think I was worth all this trouble.
***~***
"Hey," Chandler said, as he opened the door. I really didn't know what to say to that. It was a pretty neutral greeting, and I couldn't figure out if he was still mad at us or not. We all just kind of stood there, for a really long time. The Ross decided to say something.
"Can we talk to you for a minute, man?"
"Sure, yeah, uh, sorry. Come in." Chandler gestured for us to come in, and that was when it hit me. There was no place to sit in his place. His mattress was on the floor, and, other than a nightstand, which looked really weird next to one mattress, and a few milk crates full of books, he had no furniture. Of course, he didn't take anything when he left our place. He took some clothes, and a few other things, but he left so fast...
"How are you feeling?" The conversation was forced, and very strained. Ross was trying to make the best of a horrible situation.
"Okay. Weird. A little lost," Chandler laughed, and it was the first time I'd seen his smile in years. It was an uncomfortable smile, but I was willing to take what I could get. Before he left, I had had a tough time remembering what Chandler looked like when he *wasn't* smiling. Now, I struggled to recall the man that used to be my best friend. I wanted to cry, right there and then, cause I knew that the man I knew--was dead.
"Well, uh, your Mom called me, and said that you had to move out of here, so, uh, we have a place for you."
"Ross--"
"Before you say anything, it was not my idea. And you'll have to pay rent...it's not a hand out. I just...I know how hard it is to find a place in this city. And you'll be subletting, so the rent isn't that bad."
"Subletting?"
"Yeah. It's uh, it's Ugly Naked Guy's place. He's subletting, and we thought that--"
"You'd be able to keep an eye on me," Chandler said sadly. It's weird, I thought he'd be mad. But he looked so sad. Like he'd lost something. Maybe he did. Maybe he would never be able to get back what he lost, and maybe he's realized it.
"No, Chandler. Well, kind of. We want you back in our lives. *All* of us."
"Did you tell Monica? About me?" The absolute sadness and hopelessness in Chandler's voice was almost too much to bear. I just wanted to hug him, but he was still so thin...I didn't want to hurt him.
I looked at Ross, who was busy contemplating what to tell Chandler. In the end, he opted for the Truth.
"Yes, I told her. They all know. And they all want to help you...come back."
I was shocked that Ross told Chandler. And that he took full responsibility for something I had done.
~*~
(15 months earlier)
"C'mon Joey, just come out with us," Phoebe was pleading, while the others stood behind her, near the door.
"I wanna sit in my chair," I said stubbornly.
"I...I can stay home, if it'll make it easier," Monica said quietly. The others shook their heads, and disagreed fiercely with the idea. That pissed me off, so I stood up, and confronted Monica.
"You know, Monica, you aren't the only one hurting from all this. You have no idea...no idea what--"
"Joey, don't," Ross warned, but I was determined to tell them. They needed to know, just how awful it had been for me and Ross.
"Don't what, Ross? Don't tell them, that we saw Chandler a couple months ago? That he was so fucked up, that he barely recognized us? That we found him on the bathroom floor of that SHITHOLE he calls an apartment, with a needle in his arm? And that we put him in rehab, knowing that he'd hate us both for the rest of his life? We should have told them. We should have told them a long time ago, because they deserve to know. *She* deserves to know what he's done to himself!!"
I was out of control. All of the anger that I had felt toward Monica exploded in one moment. I left the apartment, and four speechless friends behind. I left Ross to clean up the mess I'd made.
***~***
Ross had asked me if I wanted to go with them to visit Chandler, now that he was out of rehab. But I couldn't. I knew I wasn't ready to face Chandler. The weight of responsibility and guilt is heavy on my shoulders, and I feel it escalate every time Joey looks at me. He is so protective of his best friend, almost to a fault. But I don't blame him for hating me. Phoebe hates me too, a little, I think. She will talk to me, but it isn't the same. I can see it in her eyes. She doesn't trust me anymore.
Rachel has stuck by me the way that Joey has stuck by Chandler. The night Joey told us about Chandler, I felt like my entire world, fragile as it had been before, collapse completely. Rachel held me, all night, as I cried. I have never felt so horrible, so guilty, so...sad. I wanted to kill myself, it was honestly that bad. I managed to pull myself together enough to eventually go back to work, but my life since that night has never been the same. It never will be the same. I live in a tunnel, where I am only able to see what I need to see. If I strain to see more, the pain will overtake me, and I will sink into oblivion.
I wonder if this is the way Chandler felt, before he fell.
~*~
Walking After You
(The Foo Fighters)
Tonight I'm tangled in my blanket of clouds
Dreaming aloud
Things just won't do without you, matter of fact
I'm on your back, I'm on your back, I'm on your back
If you walk out on me, I'm walking after you
If you walk out on me, I'm walking after you
If you'd accept surrender, I'll give up some more
Weren't you adored
I cannot be without you, matter of fact
I'm on your back, I'm on your back, I'm on your back
If you walk out on me, I'm walking after you
If you walk out on me, I'm walking after you
Another heart is cracked in two, I'm on your back
I cannot be without you, matter of fact
I'm on your back, I'm on your back, I'm on your back
If you walk out on me, I'm walking after you
If you walk out on me, I'm walking after you
If you walk out on me, I'm walking after you
Another heart is cracked in two, I'm on your back