I feel like no one understands me or what I’m dealing with. They all look at me with judgment in their eyes, especially the press. They’ve now portrayed it to look like I’m just another rich, Rock Star who checked into rehab instead of looking at the bigger picture.
I’ve tried every pill possible, and none of them ever helped. I’ve talked to shrinks, which was a waste of time because nothing ever changed. I still feel empty and dead inside.
Now that I’m sober, I feel every ounce of sadness and pain. When before, when I was high, I could at least escape it and live a life full of numbness and false reality; pretending my life was perfect. I perfected the big ass fake smile, used my expensive clothes, hair style and flashy cars to put on this front that I was okay. Living the perfect life while Beyond Redemption climbed the charts, #1 hit song’s with each single we released.
I think five years ago, when we signed with Razor Records and finally made it big, is where my life took a turn for the worse. We were selling out arenas around the world, and had my face on every magazine, but the bigger the band and my life got; the smaller I felt. I was surrounded by fake people who only acted like my friend because of the millions in my bank account.
I was living in L.A. surrounded by nothing but superficial people looking to be my friends so they could get into all the best clubs or to get the dirty deets on my life to sell to all the gossip magazines.
So when I checked out of rehab, the first thing I did was return home to Miami. Having my parents and true friends around me for support is one of the reasons I’m still clean two months later.
Each time I felt the desire to get high while in rehab, and since I came home, I just pull out my phone and look at Cane’s pictures in my gallery. I’m bettering myself for him. He is the only thing giving me the strength to get through this.
I thought it would get easier over the years. But it doesn’t. I’ve tried to move on, but I can’t. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been with some amazing men. Men who can fuck you so hard you forget your name. But after the sex is over, and my body floats back down to earth, the cold reality hits me, knocking me on my ass.
No one can make me feel what Cane did. No one can make my heart come back to life. It withered and died eight years ago today, and since then it’s felt like there’s nothing there, but a hollow hole in my chest where my heart use to be.
The guilt I feel after being with another man is unbearable. The sex feels amazing while I’m in the moment; I crave the feeling of being desired and loved. But once we finish, I always leave or kick the guy out. Then I go have a long hard cry in the shower as the guilt of what I just did eats away at my insides.
I know it sounds stupid, but each time I fuck a guy, it feels like I’m cheating on Cane. It doesn’t help that, in eight years, I’ve yet to find the strength to remove my engagement ring. I still sleep with his dog tags in bed beside me every night and have a picture of us together on the beach as my wallpaper on my cell.
I’m so afraid that the moment I allow myself to move on I’ll forget Cane.
I never want to forget him.
So I pay for two cell phones. I kept my old phone that I had while Cane was alive. I listen to his voice messages and read his texts every single night before I fall asleep. It sounds crazy, but it’s the only way I can cope with him not being here with me, and get through each day without him in my life.
Today marks eight years since Cane was taken from me, and of course, the party to celebrate our new tour falls on the same day. So Roxie is driving me to the cemetery so I can visit Cane before I have to get ready for tonight’s party.
She hasn’t said it, but I know she didn’t let me have my driver bring me because she’s nervous it’ll be too hard and cause me to relapse. So she’s here with me to support me, but also to babysit me. It sucks feeling like a child, having everyone monitoring your money, and everything you do to make sure you’re not falling back into the dark world of drugs.
I understand her reasoning. I know I’d do the same for her if it’d been me finding her practically dead on a hotel floor eight months ago.
“Do you want me to go with you?” Roxie asks, her voice sweet and full of concern, breaking me out of my thoughts.
I’ve sat here watching as the scenery changed from the busy city to rolling hills of grass decorated with grave stones of every shape and size. With each passing second, I became nauseous and tense.
I haven’t been to Cane’s grave since January eleventh of last year. It’s too hard coming here, so I only visit his grave on the anniversary of his death.
“No. I think I need to do this alone. Thank you for everything Roxie.” Unbuckling, I grip the yellow roses that are lying on my lap and open the car door.