The days and nights have begun to blur together. Either I'm at work, or I'm at home. But this constant need follows me everywhere. It's so hard to explain. I can't. I just feel so empty, so alone, so afraid. And there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. I can try to ease it, but that takes it toll on me too. The stress is unbearable. I can't remember names, places, or faces. It's so strange. I've never felt like this before. I mean I'm functioning. I'm fine. But that's the exterior. And I"m worried I've begun to show too. The outbursts of rage, the sudden changes, reactions. Everything. I guess everything's getting to me. And then I find out my parents are back together. It's just all at once. And Abby takes Bryce away from me in the middle of everything. I've never felt more abandoned in my life. I want to forget this all. I want to go back to my life before. Before the drinking, before the fighting, before Abby. I was truly happy with her, but if happiness comes with so much pain, I'd rather not have it. I turn around to my open window, the snow falling in heavy sheets down onto the ground. Sleep doesn't come easy. I'm not a big fan of sleeping aids though. The aftermath in the morning is horrible. But I have some, somewhere in the medicine cabinet. Or in my bag. It's not that I get a lot of sleep anyway. It's become something that I catch here and there, the rest of the time surviving on coffee, caffeine, and the occasional cat nap.
And I see her and Bryce, just to remind me of what we had, were we had been, and what we'll never be. Every lie I've ever told her I can recall. Every single sentence that wasn't truthful, I can recite syllable for syllable. I want myself back. I want the person I was before back. This isn't' who I am. I'm living a goddamn lie. And I need a change. I need something to take away this pain and misery from my life and replace with belonging and love. Truthful, dedicated, simple. I force myself not to look at the clock. I see the minutes go by, and I've lied here mostly every night and thought about it. I'll never sleep. I'm always shaking, the headaches more frequent and they are paralysing when they come. I'm beginning to think I should get a CT scan to double check for some huge tumour growing somewhere pressing on the cerebrum. I easy myself out of the cold bed to the even colder floor. I set with my back against my bed, my legs pulled up towards my chest. I watch the snow that mesmerized me as a child. It's hard to believe that every single one is different. It's a load of bullshit. I get off the floor and head towards the bathroom. My throat is burning and I need water. Or something. I turn on the faucet, grabbing a cup from the side, filling it with cold water. The cry of my pager cuts through the eerie silence like a knife. I drop the cup of water on the floor its contents spilling everywhere. Damn it. I pull the damn thing out of my pocket and read the number. It's County. I'm on call tonight and I guess I'm going in. I walk towards the phone in the bedroom and dial the number. Its confirmed. I'm going in. My head start pounding again. I go back into the bathroom throwing a few towels over the water and grabbing a new glass. I fill it halfway and then grab one of the bottles on the counter, taking four out and quickly popping them into my mouth. I head into the room and grab a pair of sweatpants and a shirt. I'll change into scrubs at the hospital. I grab my keys off my dresser and rush out the door.
The drive is annoying. The lights seem to change colors and shapes. But I reach the hospital and pull into one of the empty parking spots. I run out and into the main door, but the place is silent. I walk up to Randi, who is at the desk, flipping through a magazine.
"What happened to the accident?"
She shakes her head in my response then shrugs her shoulders.
"They went to Mercy instead. It was closer."
Damn it. So I just got called here for no reason. Fine. So I head towards the lounge. I'll drop off my stuff, and grab an empty bed somewhere. I have a shift this morning at 7 anyway. I throw my stuff into my locker and head towards the suture room. It's usually empty during the night. I bark these comments at Randi on my over there. Why the hell did they call me in if they didn't need me. I would have rather stayed home. I push the door open and the sharp light hits me. The rest of the hallway was dim. Abby's sitting at one of the beds working on charts. I turn back around. There has to be another room somewhere.
"John."
I pretend to ignore her. I'm already halfway out the door when she says it anyway. I pop into the other exam rooms, and they are all full. My other choice is the couch in the lounge, but I doubt I will be able to fall asleep on that damn thing. I don't pay attention the world in front of me and walk straight into her. I don't apologize. Why should I? She should have moved.
"Do you want to lie down?"
I shake my head no. I don't want to talk to her, or associate with her for the present time. What else can she take away from me? My freedom? My pride? Hell she would drain me of every possible emotion if she could.
"Are you okay?"
I start to walk away again. I want to ignore her. Why does she have to me so damn irritating? She follows me and she's not letting up. I feel my hands shaking again. I hate it. It drives me crazy. Thank god I don't have to put in IV's anymore. I would have killed patients. I duck into the lounge, but of course, she follows me in.
"John."
I turn around looking at her with this grim look. I wanted to scream at her, don't you get it? Fuck off. But I couldn't. It would lead to more questions and whatnot.
"What does it matter to you."
I say it forcefully. I don't know why. Most of my words towards her, and everyone else have been coming out like that.
"It matters a lot to me."
She's great at lying. She really is. She's a wonderful actress, we should nominate her for an Emmy.
"Especially when your drunk right?"
I don't know. Her drinking is what started this all. Her damn drinking. I don't' want to deal with this. I don't need it. I don't want it. I want to get out. To leave. To escape. To break free. I head towards the door but she stands in front of me.
"I'm worried about you."
She blocking my path now. She's asking for it. I'm not in the mood for her fucking games. I'm not in the mood for her at all. I want to go lie down, I want this hell to end. I push her out the way, maybe with a little too much strength, she goes flying towards the table, tripping over a leg of a chair. I don't care. She's the one that wouldn't get out of my damn way. She deserves every horrible, crude thing that happens to her. It suits her damn personality. I rush through the doors of the hospital. I'm going home. I'll switch shifts tomorrow morning. Whatever it takes. Or I might transfer out completely. Start anew. Somewhere at North western or Mercy. I could probably get into a program at Boston Medical Centre. They are supposed to have the best Emergency Medicine Program in the United States. Somewhere far. Far away from here, and her.
And I see her and Bryce, just to remind me of what we had, were we had been, and what we'll never be. Every lie I've ever told her I can recall. Every single sentence that wasn't truthful, I can recite syllable for syllable. I want myself back. I want the person I was before back. This isn't' who I am. I'm living a goddamn lie. And I need a change. I need something to take away this pain and misery from my life and replace with belonging and love. Truthful, dedicated, simple. I force myself not to look at the clock. I see the minutes go by, and I've lied here mostly every night and thought about it. I'll never sleep. I'm always shaking, the headaches more frequent and they are paralysing when they come. I'm beginning to think I should get a CT scan to double check for some huge tumour growing somewhere pressing on the cerebrum. I easy myself out of the cold bed to the even colder floor. I set with my back against my bed, my legs pulled up towards my chest. I watch the snow that mesmerized me as a child. It's hard to believe that every single one is different. It's a load of bullshit. I get off the floor and head towards the bathroom. My throat is burning and I need water. Or something. I turn on the faucet, grabbing a cup from the side, filling it with cold water. The cry of my pager cuts through the eerie silence like a knife. I drop the cup of water on the floor its contents spilling everywhere. Damn it. I pull the damn thing out of my pocket and read the number. It's County. I'm on call tonight and I guess I'm going in. I walk towards the phone in the bedroom and dial the number. Its confirmed. I'm going in. My head start pounding again. I go back into the bathroom throwing a few towels over the water and grabbing a new glass. I fill it halfway and then grab one of the bottles on the counter, taking four out and quickly popping them into my mouth. I head into the room and grab a pair of sweatpants and a shirt. I'll change into scrubs at the hospital. I grab my keys off my dresser and rush out the door.
The drive is annoying. The lights seem to change colors and shapes. But I reach the hospital and pull into one of the empty parking spots. I run out and into the main door, but the place is silent. I walk up to Randi, who is at the desk, flipping through a magazine.
"What happened to the accident?"
She shakes her head in my response then shrugs her shoulders.
"They went to Mercy instead. It was closer."
Damn it. So I just got called here for no reason. Fine. So I head towards the lounge. I'll drop off my stuff, and grab an empty bed somewhere. I have a shift this morning at 7 anyway. I throw my stuff into my locker and head towards the suture room. It's usually empty during the night. I bark these comments at Randi on my over there. Why the hell did they call me in if they didn't need me. I would have rather stayed home. I push the door open and the sharp light hits me. The rest of the hallway was dim. Abby's sitting at one of the beds working on charts. I turn back around. There has to be another room somewhere.
"John."
I pretend to ignore her. I'm already halfway out the door when she says it anyway. I pop into the other exam rooms, and they are all full. My other choice is the couch in the lounge, but I doubt I will be able to fall asleep on that damn thing. I don't pay attention the world in front of me and walk straight into her. I don't apologize. Why should I? She should have moved.
"Do you want to lie down?"
I shake my head no. I don't want to talk to her, or associate with her for the present time. What else can she take away from me? My freedom? My pride? Hell she would drain me of every possible emotion if she could.
"Are you okay?"
I start to walk away again. I want to ignore her. Why does she have to me so damn irritating? She follows me and she's not letting up. I feel my hands shaking again. I hate it. It drives me crazy. Thank god I don't have to put in IV's anymore. I would have killed patients. I duck into the lounge, but of course, she follows me in.
"John."
I turn around looking at her with this grim look. I wanted to scream at her, don't you get it? Fuck off. But I couldn't. It would lead to more questions and whatnot.
"What does it matter to you."
I say it forcefully. I don't know why. Most of my words towards her, and everyone else have been coming out like that.
"It matters a lot to me."
She's great at lying. She really is. She's a wonderful actress, we should nominate her for an Emmy.
"Especially when your drunk right?"
I don't know. Her drinking is what started this all. Her damn drinking. I don't' want to deal with this. I don't need it. I don't want it. I want to get out. To leave. To escape. To break free. I head towards the door but she stands in front of me.
"I'm worried about you."
She blocking my path now. She's asking for it. I'm not in the mood for her fucking games. I'm not in the mood for her at all. I want to go lie down, I want this hell to end. I push her out the way, maybe with a little too much strength, she goes flying towards the table, tripping over a leg of a chair. I don't care. She's the one that wouldn't get out of my damn way. She deserves every horrible, crude thing that happens to her. It suits her damn personality. I rush through the doors of the hospital. I'm going home. I'll switch shifts tomorrow morning. Whatever it takes. Or I might transfer out completely. Start anew. Somewhere at North western or Mercy. I could probably get into a program at Boston Medical Centre. They are supposed to have the best Emergency Medicine Program in the United States. Somewhere far. Far away from here, and her.