You’re pushing him away.
You’re going to end up alone.
You lost control again.
My footsteps are heavy as I rush out of the bookstore.
I’m in an unfamiliar pub close to the bookshop. It’s dark inside and there’s candles on all the tables. They threaten to fall to the ground at any moment. Part of me is hoping they do.
I sit at the bar and order a couple shots of vodka. I take one, then the other, then another one. Once I start, I don’t stop. I just keep ordering them. The noise in my head doesn’t stop, it just gets louder and louder. I play with my angel necklace while downing shots. The scene of Teddy and I fighting plays like a broken record in my drunken brain and I can’t get it to stop. The fire in my throat makes me gag, but I don’t stop. I feel insane, and really drunk. I glance around the pub and notice so many different walks of life. People are looking at me, or am I justlooking at them? I suddenly feel incredibly exposed. Tears sting my eyes as I continue rubbing my angel necklace.
Oh mum, what am I doing here?
What must you think of me now?
Look at how far gone your little boy is now.
My hands begin to shake a little. I look down at the bar, avoiding people’s gaze. There’s a group of men looking at me now.
I think I’m going to throw up.
It isn’t until I get up to go to the toilet that I realise I’m actually quite drunk, and my legs are threatening to give out underneath me.
I’m not as drunk as I was at that party, but still drunk.
Why am I even thinking about that?
I don’t even feel human anymore.
What does that even mean? To be human? Is it to feel things? Emotions? Why are all my emotions out of control? Is it me that’s out of control?
Is a sickness in the mind just as severe as a physical one?
Is my mind sick?
Why was I standing on the edge of the roof that day? Did I want to end my life? The pain? What did I think I was going to accomplish?
I don’t think I wanted to die, I think I was just sick.
I needed help.
I need help.
Help me.
Please help me mum.
Why aren’t you here anymore?
Why is the room spinning?
Okay, I’m definitely gonna throw up.
I run to the bathroom and close the stall behind me. I throw up to the point I can’t breathe and blood clots threaten to burst in my face. My head is spinning.
If there’s a god, I hope he’s happy, because he abandoned me a long time ago.
This is all the vodka talking. I’m not used to being so cynical. But the thoughts are coming too fast with no space to process them.
