EXES AND OH'S

Tin Roof, Rusted

'Tu te mereces eso y mucho mas.' The actor who looks like a lovechild of Michael Fassbender and Enrique Iglesias mumbles like a cretin, then gets in a group hug with his two older brothers and the three sisters they've banged and married.

"Wait, what'd he say?" Kurt grabs for the TV remote and clicks on the rewind button, his full attention still on the screen as he read on the English subtitles again.

I heave for air and let it all out expeditiously. "He just said, 'You deserve that and so much more'." I vacantly translate for Kurt.

You deserve that and so much more...

Yep, that's the quote of my damned shitty life right there. All of this; the mess, the chaos, the suffering, this fucking hell-storm that I'm in right now... everything. I deserve every bit of it. 

My life sucks shit, it's straight up diarrhea.

And I'm definitely sure that this, is not yet the end. Things are about to get at its absolute worst — I just feel it in my bones. Well, I'm already broken, torn, shattered and ripped into pieces anyway. I can't imagine how I wouldn't be able to take a few more blows from this so-called life. At this point, I don't even fucking care if the Grim Reaper himself turns up right on my doorstep and decides to take me with him straight to hell.

My heart has ultimately stopped beating since a week ago... when I've finally sold my body and soul to the handsome devil. I already signed my name in blood and made a pact with him, and there's no fucking way that I can get out of this anymore.

It's a wonder how I've survived this whole week, because it seemed like I was on fricking autopilot. My long days are spent in the office, burying myself in work like a zombie. While my nights are spent crying myself to sleep after a couple bottles of beer. And then in the morning, I'd wretch all my pain and emotions down on the toilet. 

So, yeah, that's how I spent this whole fantastic week. Work, cry, throw up, repeat. And right now, all of me is just hurting too much — mentally, physically, emotionally. I'm fucking drained and worn to a frazzle. 

Though I am relieved and happy that we finally got to fly my dads to Houston last Sunday via a private charter plane, and we got there in just less than four hours. It's really amazing how money can buy time, convenience... and a person's heart and dignity.

Anyway, Günter and his older brother Lukas, which is now Tim's oncologist, made sure that my dads got everything they needed in Anderson Center — from the hospital boarding and accommodations, down to the medications, treatments, therapy, all that stuff. All of it taken care of by my fiancé.

Phil's just so grateful for Günter and Lukas' help, and so am I. If it wasn't for them, there's no chance in hell that we could get Tim confined in the best cancer care facility in the world at all. And now my dad finally has way better chance of getting his cancer treated. And frankly, that's all I'm hoping, praying and wishing for. It's my silver lining.

Günter and I took the private plane ride back to LA a few minutes past four in the afternoon. I was frantic and anxious the whole time — because I was supposed to meet with Levi at the Santa Monica Pier, just so I could explain everything to him... and to say goodbye. I wasn't able to text or call him because Gunter was eyeing me like a hawk the entire day. 

And of course, like the dramatic and disastrous life that was already written for me, I didn't make it to the Pier on time. Levi was already gone when I arrived on our bench around 9:30 PM.

I was seriously contemplating on calling him or sending him a text message since Sunday evening. But... what's the use? I'm sure he won't ever speak to me again, not after that. I treated him like complete shit.