No pain could be deeper.
No life could be cheaper.
No point anymore if I can't love her.
No spirit could win me.
No hope left within me.
-Beast, "If I Can't Love Her" (Okay if you don't think that's depressing af I suggest you take a good look at your life.)
I was excited about something for once in weeks. My family, friends and I were all going to my favorite restaurant. I was meeting up at my parent's house so they could carpool. My parents are environmentalists. So I walked inside, a real smile on my face for in what seemed like forever.
Looks like I was the only one smiling.
Everybody I knew, (even Beth, oddly enough. Still wearing her engagement ring... Oh for fucks' sake.)
"Ah. So its not 'Half-price Wings Tuesday,' its an intervention." I turned to leave. My brother cowered above me. I was a runt next to him.
I took a deep breath and faced them again, not bothering to mask my bitter determinedness that they wouldn't understand.
My mom spoke first. "We think you have PTSD."
"You're brutal. Guys, I don't have PTSD. You wouldn't understand."
Beth burst out of the rest of the group and began to scream at unholy decibels,"There you go again! All the mystery and the 'you wouldn't understands!' Damien you son of a bitch! No offense Mrs. Priest. You called off the wedding!" She walked over, put her arms around me, in a seemingly lovingly, concerned way. Then contained her speech.
"Damien, we found an amazing therapist. He can help you. We can make things the way they used to be."
My parents held a small box. Hadn't I pawned that piece of shit? Oh right. "That piece of shit" was a wedding ring.
"You're unbelievable." I rolled my eyes. Should I tell them? They all had a sort of disappointedness in their eyes. Like they thought I could do better.
Okay, so time for badly placed confessions. I suffer from anxiety. If people are disappointed with me, I must exceed their standards. If people are happy with me, I worry it's all looks and they just pity me.
So despite the terrible pain and suffering I knew I would go through, I grabbed the box and slid the ring on my finger.
The wedding was in six weeks.
I had six weeks to accept or kill myself, and I had already discovered the easiness of the latter.
GUESS WHO GOT INVITED TO DIVERSITY PROM WITH THEIR GIRLFRIEND. Me. This bitch.
Excuse me as I just *screams*
