... it's day 1.
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go
So make the best of this test, and don't ask why
It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time
It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life."
("Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)" - Green Day)
(Hey guys - ficwad fucked me again when I went to post Day 2 ... it did that shit where none of the chapters would show up. So I had to repost everything. Thanks for all the initial reviews. You guys are great.)
A/N: Interesting day today. You wanna hear about it? You know I'm gonna talk about it whether you wanna hear it or not. Ha! So I'm at the grocery store and I left iwillstakeyourheart at home (she's having what she likes to call a "pajama day" – not like I've never seen people around here at the grocery store in their pj's but we don't go there) so I'm by myself. Anyway, I’m shopping and I notice these two girls keep popping up down aisles I'm in and I'm thinking, "are these two like, following me or what?" They were probably like, I dunno, 16 or so. They're all giggly and all talking behind my back an' shit. I hear them say something about tight pants. I was hoping they were talking about THEIR tight pants and not mine. So I try to ignore them and I'm in the aisle with all the hair stuff and I'm contemplating new shampoo that doesn't smell like flowers and sure enough, up pops the giggle crew. They're lookin' at hair dye. While I'm standing there one of them gets the nerve to come up to me and she says, and I kid you not, "If you were me, what color would you die your hair?" She's giggling like mad and I'm thinking, "I wonder if these two are stoned or if 16 year olds these days really laugh that much?" So I turn to her and I say, "black, of course." And she just stands there staring at me and her friend runs up behind her and then she says, "Do you like MCR?"At first I was like, how the fuck did they just randomly come up with that? But then I remembered I had on an old MCR hoodie under my jacket and my jacket was unzipped. So I say, "Yeah, you could say that." And the other one says, "You've got pretty hair ... like their singer ... you kinda dress like him too." (more giggles) So yeah, I'm thinking how they hell am I having this conversation right now and all I wanted to do was get that shampoo, some cereal and some eggs and get the hell outta there so I go, "Um, naw, Gerard dresses like me" and I gave them a smirk and took off. LMAO
Oh right. Here's the story ... this one's gonna be kinda different. It's me experimenting again. And it's me having my own little thearpy session. I'm just gonna "wing it" with this one and just write what I feel (or rather, what I felt). It may be stream-of-consciousness at points or it may just be 1st person POV. Hell, I might even throw some 2nd or 3rd person in there too. There's gonna be 17 "chapters", all representing random "moments" in a day. Whatever moments I feel like talking about basically. However, all together, this is gonna be moment #30 in the series. If you haven't picked up the hints, I'm drawing A LOT on personal experience here. It's gonna be interesting to write, that's for sure. Nevertheless, I'm putting it out here as a fictional account of Gerard's 17 days to get sober.
DAY 1: 6:17 AM
"Dude! Wake up!"
"Just get him into the shower."
"Gerard ... c'mon man ... help us out here ... you with us? Hey?"
Fuck. Where the fuck am I? Hotel? God ... I'm dizzy. My head hurts.
"Hold on to my shoulders. You have to get in the shower."
Why am I not wearing a shirt? Okay ... shower ... yeah ... that would feel good. Fuck my stomach fuckin' hurts. Just wanna ... sleep ...
"Can you get your pants off on your own? Hey ... Gerard? Yo ... earth to Gee ..."
"Just shove him in there ... he'll get his clothes off himself ..."
"If he can't, they're harder to take off wet, dude."
Why are they talking like I'm not here? Fuck. I'm here aren't I?
"I'm really here ... right?"
"Fuck. He doesn't even know where he is. What did the doctor say was the recovery time for this shit?"
Doctor? Recovery time? Wha' th' ... fuck? So tired ...
"Lots of fluids and rest for today. We're just gonna put him in bed after he gets clean."
"Fuck. I'll just get his pants."
"Gerard - put your hands back on my shoulders and just stand still, okay?"
Shower's small. Are we still in Japan? Wait ... did I just need help taking off my pants?
"Just leave him in there and we'll take him out in like 10 minutes."
Ahh, hot water. Feels nice. My fucking head is pounding though. I need a drink ... of water. I'll just sit down in here.
"Gerard? I think you're done in there, dude. I'm gonna turn off the shower now. Here's a towel. C'mon, get out."
Fuck ... right ... dry off ... sleep ...
DAY 1: SOMETIME IN THE AFTERNOON
Fuck. I-I'm ... alive? Where th' fuck? I thought ... fuck ... my stomach hurts. Feels like my muscles are in knots ... feels like someone has been punching me all night. I remember ... shit what do I remember? Puking. Yeah, there was lots of puking. Before that ... Red Bull and Vodka? Definitely. Then .. sake ... that's right! I'm in fuckin' Japan! But last night ... there was a-a trash can ... and my head was in it. I think I puked all over myself .. before I found the can. That was fucking hell. I-I remember thinking ... thinking ..."This is it." My head in that fucking can ... there was puke in my hair ... and dripping in slimy strings from my lips and my chin. The bottom of that can fucking reeked. It made me puke more. All I could do was hang my head ... body was wrecked ... couldn't move ... muscles clenched on their own. That was my bottom. My rock bottom. That can was the bottom of my own personal puke-lined barrel. I must be back at the hotel. I don't remember ever checking into the hotel. I don't remember getting off the plane. What had I taken? Xanax? Vicodin? Oxycontin? Fuck, maybe all three. I remember getting on the plane. The show ... last night ... I remember singing "Helena". I remember feeling shitty ... I'm glad Grandma never got to see me like that. I remember stumbling off the stage. God, did I do anything stupid? Fuck ... then I remember more booze ... and the trash can. Wait. I kinda remember coming back here. Did I take a shower? Yeah. I think so. I don't smell. Fuck, I'm naked. Please god, tell me I didn't do something stupid. Fuck, what time is it? I can't tell. Curtains are closed.
"Oh you're awake."
Wha' the? Is that ... Frank?
"Fuck. Frank? What time is it?"
"Yeah. It's just after 3pm. We didn't want to leave you alone in the room after we got back from the hospital."
The hospital? What the fuck?
"Hospital? Wha' happened?"
"Well, my friend, you uh, really out did yourself last night. Ray's actually the one that spear-headed dragging your ass to the hospital. We called Brian, too."
God my stomach just feels like I ate glass or something. Hospital, though? What the fuck did I do? I've gotten hurt on stage and shit before but ...
"I feel like death warmed over."
"I don't doubt it. You were slipping in an out of consciousness when Ray found you with your head in a trash can. He got scared. He came back and found the rest of us and said he'd never seen you like that before ...totally unresponsive. You were all pale and like, dripping with sweat, but you seemed to be shaky too."
My heart's beating too fast right now. Do I even wanna hear this shit? Fuck. I have to know ... 'cause this is it ... I've reached the bottom ...
"Well you were totally out of it ... you wouldn't stop puking either. So then Brian called us back and said to get you over to the emergency room. We grabbed a smaller trash can for you to puke in and Ray and Mikey carried you out of the back of the building where Brian had a car waiting."
Holy fuck. I still feel out of it ... and my fucking stomach ... jeez ...
"You still wanna hear this, man? You don't look so good. Here ...here's a bottle of water."
Just sip the water ... that's good. Just calm down dude. Whatever the fuck happened, you lived.
"Yeah, and thanks ... uh, for everything."
"It's what friends are for. We're gonna be here for you, okay? To help you get through this."
God I feel ... I feel like such a rotten fuck ... putting my friends through this shit. Fuck, I just wanna cry right now ... but I can't ... don't think about crying ... Fuck though, I've let so many people down ...
"So anyway we roll up to the emergency room. Mikey dealt with the front desk and they took you right in. They weren't gonna let any of us go with you, but we insisted. We pulled the "famous" card haha! Finally they let just me go in with you."
Just keep drinking the water. God my stomach has never felt so empty. I've never felt so empty. God, what would my parents think of me right now? I feel a little weak sitting up. I need some like, juice ... yeah, some fucking juice ... maybe a little vodka in it. Wait. What the fuck? I don't need more of that shit. But that might make me feel better ...
"It was actually good that I went in because I was able to tell them what the fuck happened. You were just like totally limp ...puke all over you ... and barely conscious. Actually, you had blacked out by the time they got you back there. They asked if I knew how long ago the last drink you had was. I guessed it had been an hour. So they sat you up so you wouldn't gag and they cut off your jacket and shirt and jabbed this IV in you. I was thinking, oh man, it's a good thing he's passed out!"
IV? Oh fuck ... look at my arm! Fuck ... they stuck me with a ... needle. Fuck. I'm laying down again ...Oh god ... needles ... fuck ... just stop shaking ...don't let Frank see you shake ... you've already put them all through enough shit. God my head. I'm fucking pathetic. I hate myself for doing this ...
"Uh, so anyway, I mentioned that you might have taken some pills too. You were really fucked up. You'd even pissed yourself at some point. You puked some more and then they made you take this black stuff they actually said was charcoal to soak up the alcohol and anything else. Then you ended up puking some of that up. So they had you on two IVs and slowly you came back around and like 5 hours later we bought you back to the hotel, threw you in the shower and then put you to bed. So here we are."
"God. I'm so fucking sorry ... I-I don't know what to say other than that, and thank you."
"Like I said, it's what friends are for. Hey, you wanna order some room service? You definitely need to eat a little something. You're stomach's probably beyond empty after all that puke. You're supposed to just rest all day and drink a lot of liquid ... that isn't alcohol."
Food? Ugh. My fucking stomach feels like shit. But I could order some juice. Yeah, like some fruit juice. Fruit sounds good actually. Juice and fruit. I need to piss.
"Um, see if they have like some juice or fruit ... or like toast. Yeah, maybe toast. Um, I gotta get up ... are my ... clothes anywhere near by?"
"Haha ... you know, I was shoving your naked ass in the shower at six this morning and then dragging you to that bed."
Fuck. I didn't need to hear that. I don't even wanna know what the fuck else happened. Good, he's getting up to call room service. Where the fuck is my suitcase? I need a cigarette.
A/N Part II: These chapters are pretty much just gonna end when I feel like stopping writing them.
Everything in this story except the in-a-famous-band, concert, and hotel in Japan parts pretty much happened to me. I actually don't remember whole chunks of that "first day". The hostpital part ... all I remember is leaving. My friend, who had been there with me told me what happened. When I got clean, I basically went cold turkey. The first week there were some stumbling blocks, but after the last drink, it took me just over 3 weeks ... three hellish weeks ... to really kinda detox and feel like a human being again. I don't have to be telling you all this. But I am anyway. I guess it just adds to the story.
Oh and by the way, I actually don't have a needle phobia ... I have a phobia of being injected with shit. Weird, huh?