For a moment, when I finally look at Landon and see, I see what it’s done to him.
To her.
To me.
To Macy.
To Alexa.
That night leveled any chance at being normal again.
“It’s never gonna be the same man.” Landon says bringing the beer to his lips.
“I know.”
Raising an eyebrow, he looks over at me. “Do you?”
My frustration gets to me. He’s so fucking blind to shit but yet he acts like I am. “You have so much goddamn God-given talent but you waste it! You fucking waste it because you’re depressed. Yeah, I get it, I was there too. But the eighty percent you play at is better than most who give one hundred percent. If you put forth the effort you do into forgetting, you could go pro and probably be a number one draft pick.”
He nods, he knows just how true that statement is.
“Earn it. Being like this is a slap in the fucking face to him. He died. You lived. What good did it do that you were saved and you’re living like this? What do you think he’d say about that?”
Most of the time no one is more grateful to be alive than someone who thought they were going to die and then they live. They get that second chance. But Landon doesn’t see it that way. I’m not sure he ever will. Neither does Madison.
“What would you do if it was you?”
Heavy question.
I’m not sure how to answer it. What if it was me who was acting crazy that night?
It’s a damn good question if you ask me.
If you ask me.
And if you do, I’d normally say I have no answer because I don’t. I wouldn’t have been doing what he was. I don’t act that way.
“I would do what I do now. Live my life because dwelling on it doesn’t rewrite history. It happened. We can’t take it back.”
Landon thinks about that for a half a second and then stares at me. “Why do you hold on to the past with Madison then?”
Hmmm. Heavier.
His choice of words make me grimace because of her.
Why am I with her?
“I have no idea.” I say to him. “I guess I do because I want to.” I look out to the field. “There are parts of our lives we can’t change, Landon. I know that seems like I’m being hypocritical, but second chances don’t happen often. I’m still holding out for my second chance with her. Hell, I still want to finish my first chance. We were robbed of that opportunity, it was stolen from us.”
“But you’re not together.”
It’s not a question. But I answer. “I know. But it doesn’t stop me from wanting that chance at forever with her again.”
He stands from his place and nods to the field. He’s not going to say anything. He doesn’t need to. I stare at the field. When you look at this place, it’s like time has left it alone. It’s what makes this place feel like home to me.
I don’t blame Landon for anything that happened that night. It could have happened to anyone. I blame him for dying inside himself. That he has control over.
I don’t know where we’ll go from here. I honestly don’t.
December 7, 2013
I have more than one bad habit and more paralyzing fears than most realize. There’s the glaringly obvious habit you notice when you look at me. Coked out and addicted. They see that I’m suffering. They suspect addiction but what they don’t see is what drives me to that high.
They don’t see the one who controls me far more than anything I use to numb the pain.
3:13 AM.
There’s the addiction I can’t shake.
I think of him and stand from the floor, my legs and arms struggling to support me. Turning on the water, I stare at it coming from the faucet and then slowly look up.
I don’t even recognize the girl in the mirror, dark tired eyes stare back at me. I’ve spent the entire night on the bathroom floor vomiting, shaking, and willing myself to sleep. I want a drink, or more.
I don’t sleep. I can’t. I stay up all night and stare at the wall in the bathroom. If I do sleep, the nightmares I have keep me awake the rest of the night. I don’t even know what they’re about, just that they’re so terrifying that my mind won’t stop. I wake up drenched in sweat and confused, afraid to open my eyes and see that those nightmares might be real.
It’s been three days since my last high.
Three days.
Though I’ve gone weeks before, even months, this time is different. It’s different because I went from using a gram a week to nothing. The crash is unbelievable.
I’ve tried to quit more times than I can count. Maybe every day. I once went three months.
One morning I succumbed and went back to it at 6:18 AM when I didn’t get a text message.
Drawing in a deep breath, I’m not sure I can do this.