recovery (deetranada au)

1. (precontemplation)

In the beginning ... it never use to be like this. Us fussing and fighting and me too out of it to even care. Deep down my heart was hurting but I had already spiraled out of control. My mind was numb and my world was melting before me. A person that truly cared about me was begging me to fight for my life and I was refusing. I was too far into a sunken place. A place even she couldn't reach me.

So she screamed at me.

Trying to awaken me from my daze. I felt the oxygen level in the room lowering as her ranting consumed up most of the breathable air.

"NOV!"

She snapped her fingers in front of my face. My eyes trailing towards her perfect manicured fingers. 

"Are you even listening?" She asked in pure frustration. I would feel the same way if I was in her predicament. It was like a every day reoccurrence when she would deal with me like that. Although, I was way past numb to even care.

...and she knew I didn't care.

Unfortunately I couldn't hide that.

Her eyes staring into mine. It was the only time she could stop speaking. The silence becoming more and more prevalent as all the air dropped out the room. My body freezing over in a cold sweat. I hated the way my body felt.

I stared at her back her brown eyes that still held love scared me. The scary ways she loved me. I constantly asked myself why she put up with my behaviors. I felt like I was constantly in a haze. My eyes glazed over and red. They grew tired after my many nights without sleep. I couldn't sleep.

My skin was crawling with my unexpressed emotions. Running across my skin like a parasite that invaded my body. Her eyes scanned at my figure as I sniffed. My nose sniffing. The lids of my eye fall over my eye like an overcast. My sun being shaded by the clouds.

I felt her hands grab onto mine. This action keeping my eyes open. She aggressively grabbed my arm yanking it out of place. The world around me spinning as my eyes closed slowly.

"Baby please" she muttered under her breath. It seems like in those moments she would call me that. Any other time she was mad at me. She was irritated with me.

Understandably so...

She was mad that I choose this over her. She thought she felt like she wasn't enough. Although she knew that she couldn't be the only thing that was gonna fix my problem. She hoped that she was enough to promote me to the right thing. She hoped that my love for her would be enough. She wanted me to kick this shit.

I'll admit that all those things are enough and more but I was greedy and having her and this shit was something that was hard to deny. I felt the cool tile of the bathroom againist my bare feet. Her hand so warm compared to the stark coolness bathroom floor. I felt her place me down onto a cold tile. My body shivering. Her body reaching over mine.

The cold water running down my body as my hair got wet and clung to my face. My fully clothed body was starting to awaken. Awaken from that slumber that held me captive. The sleep that I liked. It helped me deal with my reality. The reality that my life had went down hill and she was the only person that was still here. My family didn't deal with me anymore. After the third time I relapsed they had given up and put me out into the real world that was basically begging to be apart of. That's exactly why I was here. Why I was living with her.

Now in hind sight, I'm suprised she ever took me in. If the roles were reversed I'm not sure if I could do the same thing. I don't think anybody would for that matter.

When she had seen how broken I was. Broken enough to come to her. She knew I was on my last leg. She was legal and lived on her own now. We had kept in contact briefly. She would ask me at spontaneous time about my mental health and I would candidly tell her the truth.