... it's day 5.
to evict these words that have rented out my mind.
And I'm hating every minute that I don't speak out loud"
("Hating Every Minute" – Alkaline Trio)
A/N: (sigh) Well, here it is ... Day 5. More bad shit. Meh. Oh, and your subconscious mind on Xanax withdraw is a fucked up place. Just sayin'.
DAY 5: IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT
"Let go of me!"
"Oh no, you're not going anywhere ..."
"Did you just ... break a bottle ... over my head?"
"Oh no, that was just reality crashing down on you. You know, sometimes you just need to, 'get hit over the head' as they say."
"What the fuck? Where am I?"
"Why, I'm surprised you don't recognize your own room!"
"Why've you tied me to this chair? I WANT OUT OF HERE!"
"Oh no, you want to stay."
"Why do you keep saying 'oh no'? Who the fuck are you?"
"You don't recognize my face? Tsk tsk. That hurts me, Gerard. Are you really so fucked up that you can't even see yourself?"
"YOU'RE NOT ME! I don't fuckin' go around hitting people over the head and tying them to chairs!"
"No, I'm not the whole you, just a part. The part you've been abusing by ignoring. I'm a glutton for punishment you know, but I have my limits. These last few weeks have been ... interesting haven't they?"
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Maybe you need a drink, huh? Help ya think ..."
"I-I .. fuck you!"
"Maybe you should?"
"Pay attention, fucker. See that screen on the wall? Just nod your head ..."
"If you can come up with three reasons why you deserve to be released from your current situation – of why anyone in the world should feel sorry for your ass ... well, I'll let you go. It might be a little hard though ..."
"Let me go or I'll fucking ..."
"You'll what, Gerard? What will you do? Will you fuck me up? Oh, pretty please?
"I'LL FUCK YOU UP!"
"Good. Just let yourself go. Get it all out of your system. You like the cinema, don't you? I'm just going to put on a little movie for us to watch. Pay attention."
"This isn't my room."
"I SAID PAY ATTENTION FUCKER!"
"I don't want to be here right now. What the ... fuck?"
"You like porno, right? Everyone likes a little porn. What's not to like, right? Pay attention now. You need a little help getting into it?"
"DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!"
"Oh. Right. I'm still anti-Gerard. Evil Gerard, if you will. Although, I couldn't manage the beard ... you know everyone in the alternate universe has a beard, but you and I both know you can't even grow one. Let's see, how about if I'm ... Ooo, how about if I looked like Mystique? It's not like you've never fantasized about fucking comic book characters ..."
"Fuck you! This is not happening!"
"You're not going to cry are you? I could make this so much worse for you. Maybe I could fuck your girlfriend right in front of you? Or strip off all your clothes and set you on a stage? Oh, I know! I can put you in a tight little black dress and fuck you in the ass. You make such a hot woman, you know."
"Shut the fuck up!"
"Oh no, you're the one that needs to shut the fuck up. You really need to get a grip, pal. You're falling apart here, bit by bit. Use it or lose it, as they say. Boy, I'm just full of nifty little quips tonight, aren't I? Who are 'they' anyway? You ever think about that? Are you paying attention? Oh, looks like it!"
"Stop it! Shut this shit off! Un-fucking tie me!"
"Oh, look at that. He's really giving it to her good ..."
"Fuck ... no ... shit ... ahhh!"
Oh fuck. Oh shit. No ... no this isn't happening ... oh god. Please tell me I ... fuck ... uughhh ... god ... shit.
"Gerard? Are you okay?"
Okay? Okay? I'm not o-fucking-kay! Shit. What the fuck else can happen? Fuck, now she's awake. I've got to get to the bathroom ... just hide in there ...
"Gerard? Where are you going?"
Fuck. She's following me. Just leave me alone ... please. I just wanna fuckin' roll over and die right now.
"Are you okay?"
Stop fucking asking me that! God. I can't take this. I can't ... fucking ... take all this shit ... should I lock the door? I don't want her to see me like this ... but I can't fucking hide that I just jizzed all over myself in my fucking sleep. This is fucking pathetic. I'M fucking pathetic. Fuck. Now I'm shaking again ... and the sweats ... I feel fucking slimy and filthy ... all over. What the fuck am I going to do?
"Gerard ... talk to me ... don't shut me out. Tell me what's going on ... please?"
"I'm sorry ... just ..."
"Are you sick again?"
I have no fucking control. I can't even keep my muscles from going into spasms, how the fuck could I ever think I could control anything else? Fuck. Don't cry, man ... God, I'm such a fucking pussy. I just ... I can't do this shit ... but I have to clean myself up. I'm gonna have like fucking glue in my pants if this shit dries.
"Gerard ... I'm opening the door ..."
Shit. I just wanna hide ... I just wanna disappear into these fucking floor tiles. I can't look at her face when she sees me sitting here ... sees the fucking loser who's lost control. Why, can't I deal with this? I need a fucking drink so bad ...
"Honey, what's wrong? Did you have another nightmare or something? Talk to me ..."
Fuck. She sat down beside me. I want to hold her ... I really do ... but I'm so fucking lost right now ... what the fuck am I gonna say?
"Y-Yeah ... a nightmare ..."
"You wanna talk about it?"
Just say it ...
"Kat ... I'm so lost ... I-I feel so fucked up ... I don't have control over anything ... I ..."
Fuck, here come the waterworks ... I can't hold it back ... fucking shaking and crying ... such a fucking mess ... I just wanna scream ... she's got her arms around me ... this feels so fucked up ... I gotta get out of these clothes.
"It's okay ... you're not going through this alone ..."
"Kat ... please ... I just ... I just need to change my clothes ..."
God ... she probably thinks I'm fucking nuts or something. Of course, why would any sane, un-fucked up person who had any kind of control over shit want to get up in the middle of the night and change their fucking clothes?
"I ... well, this is fucked up ... I feel so fucked up ..."
"Well, I think you might have some stuff laying around here, let me go look, okay?"
She's getting up ... I just have to fucking tell her ... she's my fucking girlfriend after all ...
"I uh ... well, I woke up because I uh ... well, I jizzed myself."
Fuck. She stopped in the doorway ... what the fuck is she gonna say? She just ... walked out. Oh god. She thinks I'm fucking pathetic, doesn't she? I shouldn't have said anything ... I had to though ... shit. I can't take this. Maybe if I just had one drink ... it would make me feel better ...
Shit! I didn't notice her come back in here. God I'm a fucking wreck ...
"Look at me ... please?"
Why would she want to look at me ... to see the fucking tears and my bloodshot eyes ... the dark circles ... my hair plastered to my face. I'm a mess.
"I can't pretend to know what you've been going through these last few days ... hell, these last few weeks ... and I can only imagine how fucked up you must feel right now, but please don't beat yourself up about this."
I'm losing it ...
"How can I not? I mean, fuck! If I can't even control that ... I can't even control my own body OR my mind anymore ... I'm fuckin' losin' it!"
"C'mon ... you can't sit there and tell me this has never happened to you before. You're also coming off of a lot of shit right now. Didn't your doctor say you could get nightmares and stuff from Xanax withdrawal? And besides that, I know how long it's been since we've had sex and you've been drunk for like, 3 weeks straight. I doubt you've been taking care of yourself, so your body probably just went on autopilot mode. Look, like I said, I can try to put myself in your shoes, but I'll never be able to feel what you feel. I'm just saying, I can understand it though. You can't fucking think that you're pathetic or something just 'cause you had a fucking wet dream."
I'm fucking' 27 years old ... I shouldn't be having wet dreams ... fuck ... nightmares. God, I feel so fucked up right now.
"Nightmare. It was a fucking nightmare."
"Okay, nightmare. Like I said, I think it's the Xanax withdraw or something. Here, I found you some other pants and one of my t-shirts. Sorry, but I didn't see any underwear though. We can go back to your place tomorrow and get some of your things if you wanna stay here."
God. I just feel numb now. What the fuck? I don't know what to think or feel from one moment to the next. This fucking sucks.
"You look a little shaky still, do you want me to help you?"
"No ... no just ... thank you, but I'll deal with it."
DAY 5: JUST BEFORE SUNRISE
Fuck. How long have I been lying here staring at the ceiling? I can't see the clock from here. It looks like it's gonna be morning soon. I survived one more day. If I could just survive one more day. Yeah. I'll just keep saying that.
DAY 5: AT 8:17AM
"What would you like me to make you for breakfast?"
"Um ... look ... about that shit in the middle of the night ..."
"Gerard ... I already told you ... don't feel bad about that. It's no big deal. Now, what do you want me to make you for breakfast?"
She thinks it's no big deal. It's just another piece of control that I don't have right now. I feel like a top spinning off its axis sometimes. Then other times I'm as numb as a corpse. I've been panic-stricken ... anxious ... sick. I'm on one hell of a thrill ride that's for sure.
"I dunno. Pick something off that fucking list from the doctor. I don't care what. I'll eat it."
I didn't even look at that list. I couldn't even bother to care about that shit. I should. I should fucking care a lot. God. What if those test results come back and ...
"Okay. How about some toast and some fruit. I think I have some bananas and apples ... oh and some orange juice."
I don't even want to think of that. But what if? That's the fucking million dollar question right there. I mean, I feel like fucking garbage and I'm sure my body is still dealing with withdraw an' shit, but what if I've really done some damage. That doctor was pressing on my liver and that shit hurt ... what if I press on it right now ....
"Does you're stomach hurt again?"
"Oh. No ... no ... I was just ... well the doctor yesterday ... when she felt like under my ribs here it hurt."
"Does it still hurt?"
"Well, I hate to say it, but that's where your liver is you know."
"Yeah, I know. Look. I don't wanna think about this shit right now. Can you just make me breakfast please?"
DAY 5: AT 2:49PM
"This about all this shit going on with me or is this about the Matt shit?"
"Well, both, kinda."
"Okay. Well, I'm fucked until I get over this withdraw shit. I'm just layin' low. I've been hanging with Kat so don't fucking worry about me, okay?"
"Okay, cool, that's fine. How was the doctor's appointment?"
"A typical fucking doctor's appointment."
"Well, what did they say?"
"They're running some tests. The doc didn't seem to be too overly concerned. I'm sure I'll live."
"Look, Gerard, I think you should make an appointment with that one therapist again ..."
"I'll consider it."
"Seriously. I just think it might help, you know?"
"Yeah. So anyway, the rest of the guys and I have decided that Matt just doesn't vibe with us anymore ... we found out Bob Bryar plays the drums ..."
"The sound guy?"
"Yeah. We're gonna ask him to play with us."
DAY 5: AT 10:25PM
In bed again. If I could only sleep.
A/N Part II: I always get kind of, well, I don’t know how to explain it because it's not what I'd call all emotional, or philosophical, or ... well I just get in a strange mood on new year's eve. This year, there were no get-togethers or parties or whatever ... just chillin' at home, so it seems I have even more time to sit and think about shit in general.
Tonight I've been thinking back to the time frame of this "story". I just wanted to put a special message here at the end of this one to the person that's like, my everything - iwillstakyourheart ('cause I know you'll read this tomorrow, cupcake). In a weird way the "party scene" so to speak, is what brought us together in the first place and I'm not gonna lie and say that I don't look back on all that crazy shit we did before – when we were just friends – and remember it fondly. You'd only been my girlfriend for a little less than a year when all this shit went down ... yet you stayed by my side. You could have walked away and you didn't. There were times where I acted like a rotten little fucker, but you put up with me. I don't think I was ever able to express how I felt about that and how much you meant (and still mean) to me ... how sorry I was for putting you through that shit too. When I was in the middle of that whole experience, I couldn't do a lot of things. You, probably more than any other reason, are why I'm still here today. I love you - then, now and always.