Everything was barely a whisper when I finally opened my eyes. Darkness was creeping over like a cancer again and I felt a tremor in my head. Whatever I had dreamed during the night dissolved away as I sat up, lit a cigarette, and washed down the better part of what was left in the bottle of rum. I laid back down, not taking my eyes off the pieces that laid scattered on the floor of every life that I prayed in vain for.
I whimpered softly as I waited for the alcohol to start the de-cleaning process, to flush away the clarity that sleep inevitably brings. And just when I could no longer take anymore of staring at the mess of us strewn on the floor I began to feel myself fading away again into the numbness that I've grown so comfortable in. I rolled myself up off the couch, my feet greeted by the 5 inch thick layer of beer cans, paper, garbage, pieces of plaster fallen from the ceiling, old clothing, destroyed furniture, pill bottles, crusty and moldy dishes and utensils, empty boxes, broken glass, and cigarette butts that covered the floor of the house.
When I stumbled into the kitchen I found her sitting in the corner of the room next to her pile of syringes, razorblades and broken mirrors. She looked up at me and I could see the two streaks down her face, reddened and stained by the tears from another one of her nightly attempts to feel something at all.
"I'm leaving again" she whispered. I stood in silence as I watched the frozen breath in which she had pronounced those words escape and dissipate in a cloud of vapor and apathy. I poured myself another drink and walked upstairs and collapsed on the broken bed covered in books, magazines, and boxes. I can't pretend that I ever loved her, but I can pretend that I don't need her. I laid for what felt like hours before I finally heard her walk out the door for the last time.
And I have to wonder if you would cry with me if you could see me now? Or would you just sit and laugh at how hard I had to work just to get to be the mess I am today?