Where the hell did I go wrong? I asked myself as I sat there, writhing on the floor of my messy apartment unit. The needles, the smokes, I fucking hate it. I really fucking hate it. But that's the only thing keeping me together right now. I cried. What the fuck is wrong with me? As the police sirens and the car horns blared outside, chasing their own dragons and goblins, I laid there, crying into a bucket of my puke. What the fuck happened to me? How could I be such an idiot? How the fuck did fall this low? What the fuck? I wish I was back with my family, it's a distant dream now. There ain't no fucking way they'll take me back after what I did. I laid down in that damn fetal position, crying as my drool mark its place on the drab carpet. Fuck me. Fuck me.

29 years of my life, fucked because of my stupid ego. My obsession broke me. My obsession broke my life. If I could just go back in time. If only I could do that. If only.

7 years ago...

"Luna, please come home, dad don't have much time left. She wants to see you Luna!" Lincoln's voice came out of my phone, he sounded frantic, he sounded sad, but I didn't care. I was busy at the top of the music charts. I was where I wanted to be for the longest time in my life. I pretended to care, no. I didn't even try to make it look like I cared.

"Yeah, yeah, sure, I'm a bit busy right now, I'll call back." I never did call back. I never did. I remember what I did that night. We were in Sacramento, performing as the main guest. I suppose the neon lights and the pyrotechnics blinded me that day, because I never did look back. I just kept playing. It felt like it was the best time to be alive. Sam, Mazzy, Sully, they were there too. The Moon Goats were there. It just felt like heaven, so I neglected everything else.

I remember that night, I said I would call back, but I didn't. I spent the entire night smoking pot and drinking booze with my friends... Well, former friends. But back then, it was heaven. The Mary Janes we took, the pills, the spirits, the sex, it was all good. If only could go back in time and beat the living shit out of my younger self. I remembered that night too vividly. The scattered underwear, the ripped shirts, the sex toys, they littered that damn hotel room. It smelled horrendous. But that was heaven for me back then. If only I could go back in time.

I do know one thing. When I got back to Royal Woods a few months after that, dad was already dead, but I didn't know. I knocked on the door that Christmas morning, bringing boxes of stuff, and the thing that greeted me was a slap across the face from my eldest sister. If only I hadn't screamed and yelled at them that day, maybe they would've accepted me back. But I didn't shut the fuck up and apologize. "WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?!" That was the first thing that came out of my mouth. I know what kind of monster I looked like back then. I know what kind of psycho I was in their eyes. I don't like it.

"LUNA! HE'S DEAD!" I remember Lori's vivid expression when she said that. Her eyes were red, it wasn't my red. It was sadness, the one that I know the feeling to now. "YOU NEVER GAVE A FUCK ABOUT HIS CANCER! BUT DO YOU KNOW WHAT HE ASKED FOR BEFORE HE FUCKING DIED? HE ASKED FOR YOU! "Where's Luna? Where's my rocker?", Lincoln was holding his hand, and he didn't even look at him, HE ASKED FOR YOU!" I remembered the pounding that Lori gave me that day. I could see my other sisters looking away as she punched me.

"Enough Lori, it's no use," If Lincoln didn't stop her that day, I'd be dead. I can't fight that woman when she's angry. I couldn't. I only wish that I hadn't punched back. I remembered that glance Lincoln threw at me as he pulled Lori back into the house. I was such a dumbass. Still am. I just wished that I handled it better. "You better go Luna, you're not welcomed here, goodbye." That was the last thing Lincoln told me before that door to 1216 Franklin Avenue was sealed for Luna Loud to enter. I wish I hadn't been such a prick. I wish I hadn't screamed what I screamed that day. I can only wish.

I never went back to Royal Woods. I couldn't. I won't. I expected that they would come knocking on my door, I expected that they would make my career as a musician a highway to hell. But they didn't. They never did. I did that on my own. I'm the best person for the job of ruining my own life. The only bastard stupid enough to plant bombs on their own railway.

I wish that today will be the day I drown in my own fucking tears. But I couldn't do it myself, I'm a coward. I wish I had the courage to just end it here. I wish I could Curt Cobain myself. The pile of puke I was laying on, the mountains of dirty laundry, trash, and fucking rats, they wouldn't even touch me. I was that much of an antichrist for them that even trash avoided me. I was that fucking pathetic. But I had a job to do, I still had to make money. I took off my clothes, I took whatever that constituted as a bath that day, and I went to the pub with my guitar. The only thing other than this dumb fucking house that didn't get taken away in alimony and lawsuits. Fuck my life. It's not like my life will last another decade that is.

The moment I got inside the pub, I was met with the shitty atmosphere I used to love back then. That loud motherfucking violent noises of people getting drunk. I sat on the stool under the spotlight above the stage, and I played my piece. I hated it. I fucking hate this job. I hate music. The crowd didn't give a fuck. I just played whatever the hell that came to my mind that night. And that night I somehow remembered the song I sang with Sam when we were babysitting Clyde's cats. What the fuck was I thinking? I started crying on stage, my mouth didn't stop singing and my fingers didn't stop strumming. I just couldn't I don't want to remember it again.

As time passed, my gig ended. The pub was empty now. It was just me and the owner. He had his arms crossed. He looked angry. I stepped off the stool and I walked up to him with my guitar saddled on my back. He threw an envelope at my feet, I picked it up and I opened it, $150. It was supposed to be $200. I was about to say something when he said sternly, "I paid you to sing not to cry,". He's right. I should be glad that I got paid in the first place. "Don't fuck it up next time, or there won't be a next time," He said before continuing to flip the stools and chairs up.

I got out of the pub, and I saw it rain. The sky too doesn't like me. My apartment is a 1-mile uphill hike. It's not like I can afford a fucking car. So I just walked and walked. Until I heard a faint meow from an alley to my right. I walked in, and I saw lying down in a cardboard box was a kitten. It was but a few weeks old. The mother was beside it, cold and dead. I crouched down. "Hey little guy, I'm sorry about your mom... I don't have much, but here, I hope this'll fill your stomach for a while, I'm sorry I can't take you with me, we can't bring pets up." I patted him as I left a few bits of pepperoni from the slice of pizza I got at the pub and shoved in my pocket. "I'm sorry it's a bit cold,". I guess another creature tonight knows what it meant to be this lonely, I just hope that you appreciated her when she was alive. Don't make the mistake I did with my dad. I stood up, and I continued my walk home. It wasn't really home not gonna lie, it's a house, but not a home. How could it feel like home?

I slid the keys in the knob, and I twisted it open. Thank God I bought this house with the cash I got from the divorce settlement, I still can't believe that I lost more than 90% of my stuff. I deserve it I guess. I got in, I took my boots off and I jumped on the couch. I took the pizza slice out of my pocket, and I munched on it. I took the TV remote and clicked a few buttons, making beeping noises with my mouth. The TV broke ages ago, it's not like I have a use for it now. As the pizza slice slowly disappeared from my hand, I heard the winds outside grew louder. The rain grew thunderous, and before I knew it, the lights went out. "Fucking hell," I cursed. No use for the fucking light now. I took my lighter out of my pocket and I grabbed a rollie from my pack. I sat it on my mouth and I lit it up. One puff, two puff, three puff. Fucking hell. I know they usually smoke mokes with a bong, but I don't have the fucking guts to bring one outside. A rollie will do. As the roll slowly went up in smokes, the shitty emotions ignited. I couldn't hold it anymore. I cried. That's my life now. I put out my cigarette on the ashtray and I lay down on that couch. I felt like shit. Because I am one. I sighed. As my eyes grew heavy, I heard her voice once again. That sweet serpent voice of the bitch that ruined my life, me.

Fuck you. I have work tomorrow.