After leaving the bathroom, I walked out of the bathroom, dropping my towel over my head and proceeding through the doors that had been propped open by doorstops. In the corner, Jay and Lucas were playing some first-person shooter that everyone seemed to have or know about. Joanna sat across from them, making long strokes on the paper with her pencil as though she were drawing something. As for me, I stood alone. As usual.
I made a right and traced the wall into what was some kind of pseudo-kitchen that lacked cooking equipment, yet had a sink and a fridge. Each section of the building had been laid out, for the most part, like a large house. With the fridge door open, I leaned inwards and picked up the closest thing I could grab, which happened to be a more than drinkable water bottle.
Feeling the cold water fall down my throat, I could only wonder if it even mattered if I was there. Sure, I shared a conversation with everyone but Lucas, but that hadn't meant I was accepted or allowed to be around them. It was just okay for me to be there, to just exist. I wasn't even surprised, because I never expected any different.
Just as I was about to make myself scarce, I heard her voice. "Lynn, my office."
In seconds, everyone had gone from ignoring my presence to scorching me with their eyes. How funny was that? They only knew I was there when my name was said. Sure, hindsight says that this was a childish way of thought, but not in the state I was in. When was I last okay with everything, even if it all was dull and grey? I couldn't say, but what I could say was that Grace was involved. Obviously.
I'd said it to her, and I would've said it to everyone. I was useless without her. In my eyes, she made nothing seem like absolutely everything, she made the sun look like the moon, she made the world come to a slow and look at only her. I mean, had I really expected drugs to truly replace her? It was just more foolishness from me. Drugs were only an escape from the ghost of her and the voice in my head. I just wished I learned that earlier.
I was never doing anything more than running on a treadmill while chasing a Twinkie, pretending that I was successfully outrunning my demons, my ghosts, and anything else that wanted to haunt me. It was funny, actually; the things I hadn't been able to see were the things that tried to kill me. The even funnier part was that they were the only things that gave enough of a shit to actually try.
"Fuck off." I continued to and through the door, listening to the slam as I made my way down the ramp under the strength of the early afternoon sun.
At that moment I had been feeling a lot of things inside, both physically and emotionally. I was in pain and pissed, like seriously pissed. I was beyond angry for no reason at all, and it must have looked even stupider to everyone who was looking at me. Stupider than I already looked? I don't think that was possible. I don't think it was possible for me to look any worse in front of anyone. I was still disgusting, that much wouldn't have changed.
Before I had even met the bottom of the ramp, a smaller, soft hand tightened itself around my forearm and tried to pull me back. That hand was met with a nearly reflexive turn and swing as I tried to shove her away. Rebecca stood across from me as her nails started to dig into my arm, her eyes unwavering and wide.
The warm wind blew her hair across her face. "What's wrong? You seemed fine when you came in with Jay."
"What isn't wrong?" I brushed my still-wet hair back. "I'm fucking pissed for no reason and it feels a damn sumo wrestler is sitting on my chest. If that wasn't already bad enough, now it feels like someone rubbed dry ice on my insides."
"Those are all withdrawal symptoms, Lynn. Well, except for the last one." she let go of my forearm and reached back to release her own hair. "The most we can do is give you Catapres, but it's just going to make the whole process take longer. I wanted you in my office to talk about you, what happened to you, and what preventative measures we can take for you, but we can do it out here if you want."
These were withdrawal symptoms? This is what it felt like to have the drugs leave your body? They were just like me. Even if I hadn't been wanted, I hung on for dear life and hoped that I would've just stuck, still fully knowing that I wouldn't last anywhere I went. All I had was living in the past, everything about me existed in the past. I was nothing and I had nothing in the present. I was stuck in a place where time would be forever frozen.
I was just a dirtied, ugly corpse with no value to anyone but the girl that would permanently lie in her bed. I drove my parents away from me, from my disastrous touch and actions. Nathan stuck around far longer than I expected and took the brunt of everything I ever did to him, but even he had enough. He gave up and left me behind. Good for him, honestly. He finally figured out where to throw out the trash.
If I could see him again, what would I tell him? That I was sorry? That I feel bad for taking advantage of his kindness? The problem is that would've been lying to him. I hadn't been sorry and I hadn't felt bad for taking advantage of his kindness. There were plenty of moments I offered to repay him, but all he ever did was reject those repayments. He never wanted them, but he still didn't kick me to the curb.
If Grace saw me here right now, what would I tell her? That I was sorry for turning into this? That I felt bad for not trying harder to get her back in my life? Of course, I would think that. The difference was that I could never say that to her face, because I would never let her see me like this.
I would have rather blown my head clean off than let her see me this way.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _
"I'm sorry, Lynn. No girl should ever have to go through that." her hand took my right knee cap, rocking it to and fro with her generic response. "You really should've went to a hospital to begin with. They would've helped you, and maybe everything would've been different. Don't you think?"
"I tried to. I tried to tell my mom, but I couldn't say it." I watched as the water attempted to splash my leg. "But it only got harder and harder to say something, to anyone. Everything only got worse, and before I could do anything, I was being called a slut. Then I kind of just stopped caring about everything and wanted a way to feel nothing, I guess. . ."
Everything fell apart after that night at the party. People stared at me, glaring as they shouted their derogatory words. Over the lapse of one night, I traveled at light speed from the lesbian to being the football team's whore. I went from being the shefag to the boyfriend thief. All of a sudden, I went from being ignored or laughed at to being a target, to being outright hated by anyone who wanted to keep themselves safe.
I couldn't blame them. It was survival of the fittest, and to self-preserve was to survive. People followed the law, and even if that law was corrupt, it was always better than figuratively dying with someone they never knew or cared about. If it wasn't them or someone they loved, then it never mattered. If it wasn't them, they could just look the other way and pretend it wasn't happening. They were simply trying to survive, and as much as possible, live in peace.
The weak will never be saved. They are beaten and sucked dry until the minimal worth they have is gone. What happens then? The weak are left empty with nothing and no one to see or even reach out towards.
"By feel nothing, you mean drugs?" her eye contact remained firm, as though to give a sign that she was really listening. "Your friend, did he encourage using drugs?"
"Obviously." I gave an accidental retort. "Nathan? He was completely against me using any drugs at all, but I insisted and he wouldn't leave me alone, so he ended up being around for a lot of it."
Reaching into her shirt, she pulled out a cigarette and held it up as to ask if I minded or not. It was kind of ironic, honestly. I had done heroin, meth, and a laundry list of other drugs, but I disliked cigarettes. They smelled awful and made me feel like I was swallowing sand with every inhalation. The worst part was that cigarettes accomplished absolutely nothing outside of poisoning your body.
Whether it had been the smaller stuff like weed or harder stuff like heroin, drugs at least did something other than pointlessly poison the body. They poisoned the body still, but they gave the numbness that people were after. Drugs let people run away or hide, they allowed people to find something better than what they had, even if it was only temporary. If someone lived in hell, then even they could fly to heaven for a little while.
The numbness and the act of running away came at a cost, and that cost was health. That cost was worth it to me. If I was allowed to feel nothing, if I was allowed to run away from her and everyone else, then I would have destroyed my body for it. In that short escape, I could fade from existence, from my slowly crumbling reality psyche. Even if only for a little, I could escape the nothingness I felt within myself. Perhaps it was wrong, but maybe it wasn't for people like me. All I knew was that it worked, and I would've kept going if it hadn't been for Nathan.
"Why do you think he wouldn't leave you alone?" she lit the cigarette with my shrug, even if it was a complete oxymoron. I mean, at least she owned it.
Nathan stated plenty of times that he held no feelings towards me as a girl, and that much was true. Maybe it was my insecurities, or the demons inside of me trying to spread themselves like a disease, but I tried plenty of times with him. I tried to use Nathan to fill the hole in me, as though taking advantage of him would replace anything I lost. If he had wanted to, I was sure Nathan could have filled that figurative hole, even if only partially.
"Honestly? I don't even know anymore." a nervous habit of mine returned as I brought my thumbnail to my teeth, a bad habit I always shared with Grace. "I don't know anything. . ."
I was in a sea of fog, drowning in clouds as grey and black surrounded me, barring me from reality. I could see visions of things, figures that looked look just like myself, but things and figures that were fundamentally different on the inside. I could hear the words, the voices of people of speaking, but only as a colluded mess as though they were of a foreign tongue. I was the messed up one, I was the weird one.
I was a separate entity. I lived somewhere different from the rest of the world, alone and hidden, but still able to see the happiness of others while I continued to rot within my own insignificance.
Her hand landed on my shoulder, squeezing ever so softly. "That's enough for today, okay? Let's get some lunch with everyone and see if we can find something to help with those withdrawals."
Every time I felt that I wasn't supposed to be around, one of these people came out of nowhere and pulled me back in. First it was Joanna and then it was the celebrity, Jay. Now she'd done it. Why did these people care so much about me or my well-being when so many others before them disregarded the state I was in? It all felt like a giant, convoluted lie to me. It was like I had to force myself into feeling like there was something wrong. I had to make myself believe that something wasn't right. Everything was going as good as it could, and that was the problem in and of itself.
All good things come with a catch.
ns 172.70.134.152da2
