Close my eyes

Sometimes the past has a nasty way of trying to slip back into your life.  It’s been awhile since that night I shattered into a million pieces but sometimes it feels like yesterday. Small things trigger it, a song, a scent.. or even a word (princess).  Today, though, I do not know what triggered it.  It just happened…

I was just sitting on my couch watching Cheers and all of the sudden I was back slumped on the floor in the bathroom of my old apartment.  A bottle of vodka in one hand and a bottle of Xanax in the other… that stupid necklace he had given me thrown at my feet. My collar. Only 23 and ready to give up.  I even wrote the note…

This happens less and less as time passes, but when it does it is brutal.  Like a curtain closing over my mind, pitch black and suffocating.  It is a struggle to grab onto anything real.  These are the moments I most wish Sir was here, so I try to focus my thoughts on him.  Close my eyes.  The darkness is over.  I know that.

 

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Whiskey scented nightmares

I’m on a roll today with the posts – just a lot going on inside my head, I guess. Last night I dreamed about Jason.  I’ve written a few posts about him, here and here.  I never talked much about what happened after it was supposed to be over – besides a few allusions toward it here and there.

Once he was finished with me, it was easy for him to cast me aside but he couldn’t stop picking me back up.  The desperation (yup, I’m not proud) I felt for him was overwhelming and worsened with each heartbreak.  I think he knew what he was doing, regardless of how much Jack Daniels had taken over his mind.

I really don’t remember what happened, what truly triggered the pieces to finally shatter.  I grabbed a bottle of vodka, a bottle of NyQuil, and a bottle of Xanax and closed the bathroom door behind me.  I typed out a text message to Jason, apologizing for being such a failure, apologizing for being so selfish.  My only regret is making those apologies.

Somewhere in my drunken stupor, I managed to cut into my left ankle with my razor (yeah, the kind used to shave legs).  Drops of blood all over the bathroom floor.  I hadn’t done that since I was a teenager.

I woke up to missed calls, texts, and voicemails.  Jason had apparently taken my text message seriously.  It was my friends and family, pleading me to answer them.  Pleading.  Crying.  When I finally called one of my friends back, she said she had been close to calling the police.  In fact, she was already outside in the parking lot.  I had called her back just in time.  I felt so selfish in that moment.  I had to hurt them to hurt Jason.

Jason’s messages were a little different.  His were angry.  You fucking attention whore.  What the fuck is your problem, you stupid bitch.  And, I don’t know why I went to see him a few weeks later. He wasn’t angry until he saw my ankle, the cuts weren’t deep but they were bright red and obvious.

His face changed when he was angry.  Like something out of nightmares, as if his eyes turned black.  I can’t talk about the rest… but it was the last time I ever saw him.  It’s been so long but it still feels like yesterday when its in my nightmares. It’s over.  Forever.  I wish my mind understood that.