Queen Bee

July 2005 (3)

It was the next day and I had been feeling at least a little bit better than how I was yesterday. Yesterday, I was pretty fuckin' sure I was dying from how shitty I felt. But I imagine I was feeling better likely due to the fact that I wasn't all fuckin' hungover today. Don't get me wrong, I'm still definitely noticing major nausea and shakes if I don't stay consistent with my pills, as well as my stomach hurts all the fuckin' time, but still, there was an improvement. And an improvements an improvement, no matter how small. 

Because I was feeling slightly better, I asked Paul if he could get me a flight home today. He agreed, considering he had called around and gotten me into a rehab facility that would be willing to take me a week from today, so I really had to get the hell home to make it back in time for my intake date.

I felt nervous about it. Fuck, I actually felt really nervous about it. I just had no idea what the fuck rehab was gonna look like. And in all honesty, I don't know if I'm one hundred percent ready to get clean, but I figure I have to at least try. The pills are destroying my entire fuckin' body, they fucked up the tour, they're expensive as fuck, and honestly, I just know I can't live like this anymore. Even though a part of me still wants too. I mean, they're like a crutch for me. They've gotten me through everything shitty that's happened to me over the last few years, and it's a scary thought to think about going through shit without them. But like I said, I know I need to at least try. If I don't, then it's no ones fault but my own if I die from them, and I hate that reality... But at the end of the day, it's the god honest truth. 

Just as I had finished packing up my things, I knew I had at least another three hours before I needed to head for the airport. Feeling stumped on what to do, I realized I had yet to still call Angel and tell her what was going on. I don't know why I felt I wanted to talk to her so badly about all of this, but I think I just really needed to hear her voice. Even if she does only say I told you so, at least she knows I'm doing it. At least she knows I'm trying... And I guess that's all I just really want. 

Making myself comfortable against the couch with my phone in hand, I quickly felt as my anxiety began to spike. All I wanna do is just talk to her, I don't wanna fight. God, I hope she doesn't fuckin' get mad at me. I hope I haven't fucked up our relationship beyond the point of her giving a shit about me. I just want someone to be proud of me, to support me, tell me I'm making the right decision. I hope she can give me that, even if she really does fuckin' hate me. 

Inhaling a jagged breath, my thumb slowly began hitting the necessary buttons in order to find Angel's contact. Once I did, I paused for a few moments, wondering if I should really do this or not. I mean, she's gotta find out anyway, she has to keep Des for who knows how long, but I guess there's a part of me that would rather Paul just call her and tell her, so that way I wouldn't have to face her. But on the off chance she gives me a good reaction, I do wanna be the one to tell her. So I guess I gotta just hope for the best, but expect the worst. 

Hitting talk on her name, my shaky hand brought the phone up towards my ear. Letting it ring for a few moments, my mind quickly started shouting at me to hang up the phone. Just hang it up and you don't have to talk to her about this. Quite honestly, it isn't really any of her business anyway, Marshall. But I want it to be. She always told me the only stipulation on us getting back together is if I go to rehab... And now I'm going to rehab. Does that stipulation still stand? Or is she just over me? Is she over us? I'm not. As much as I say I hate her, and say horrible fucking things about her both publicly and privately, I still love her. I still would take her back within a single fucking instant if she ever gave me the chance. But who knows... Maybe her life is better without me? It kinda feels like it is. She's putting out music, she's getting collaboration deals, magazine covers... Even sex! The one thing I can always give her, she's getting elsewhere now. She's doing fine without you, Marshall. She doesn't need you anymore. Truth be told, she might have never actually needed you, she just chose to be with you. But you needed her. You've always needed her. And right now, you need her more than ever, but she might be no where to be found-