A Foreign Love Song (Jake Bateman x Johnnie Guilbert)

18: Johnnie

This is the last thing you will ever hear from me.

Goodbye. Good fucking bye.

The depression that you've put me through will not be missed at all. The hard times that I've been forced to endure will not be forgotten, and will make me stronger. The darkness that I've seen without a light will no longer consume me in it's entirety.

This is what I told the physical object that will represent my deadlihood: my razor blade. I throw it away, light the trash can on fire, and I feel free. I feel so fucking free.

And yet, I still don't. The craving isn't gone because I've mentally let go of the issue. I have better ways to cope now, but that doesn't make everything all fine and dandy. Nikki's told me that incentives were working way better than expected, but in order to make a full recovery, I would have to learn how to love myself.

I shutter at the very thought. 

But this is the end of the story, and Jake's had his Hollywood ending. (Who would've thought that would've worked out so very well?)

So I guess it's about time I get mine. Dear Lord, please let it blow over well. I've been dying to feel real happiness forever. Every moment that I spend with Jake is as close to it as I've come to it in forever.

This very thought makes me giddy. Yes, I love the physical love, but he's my greatest emotional support. And he's amazing at it, too. I have to give him all of the credit for finding Nikki. He struck gold there. But even aside from therapy, he seems to always know when to say the right thing, or how to best help me. Sometimes, that means running around a convenience store for five hours, and sometimes that meant sitting on the couch for eleven hours, taking a long nap because life really sucks the energy out of you. Jake understands this perfectly, and he never complains. I think he's made it his mission to help drag me out of this hole I've dug myself into. That's really a sweet sentiment, practically tugs at the heartstrings. 

Do I need my Hollywood ending? Nope. I don't feel like exploring a second ending with the possibility of writing in a kiss between Jake and myself. In fact, the only reason I'm even getting this ending is just to confirm three things.

1. I really do like Jake. (It's a bit early for love, but I think that's gotta be what I feel). There's nothing better than his company. I can never repay him for everything I've put him through, and everything he's helped me to get through. He's the best person in the whole wide world, hands down.

2. I am recovering from my self-harm addiction. Do I slip up? Of course. But so does everyone. I'm working on it. And if you're reading this and doing so too, then I know you can recover as well. Maybe not so easily, but I swear you can do it. 

3. I know that Nikki's not really a therapist. (He is in context, of course, but I digress.) He's not the sort of person that would really be a therapist. He's the guy you tell everything because he knows how to help you through the situation. He's not in it for the money, nor is he interested for the mental doctoring aspect of it. He's a therapist because he wants to genuinely help people get through their addictions: drugs, alcohol, sex, self-harm, or anything else.

Such conformations shall conclude this hellhole of a story. Yeesh, what a train wreck. But I suppose it is my train wreck, which is a crooked kind of perfect thing.

Anyhow, that's just about all I've got left to say. 

________

Fin....

TWC: 17854

Always and forever,

Davy Jones