Nightingale

sixty-one

4,000 words for you guys. I know its not a lot given how long I've been gone but I promise to feed you after I've been starving you guys for far too long! <3

December 31st, 2020

I think I'm prone to overthinking. Is thinking this the definition overthinking? I quite literally overthink about the fact that I overthink.

It's something I had to learn to do though. When things lurk around corners, people even, you learn to always think of every possible scenario, every possible meaning to what a person is saying. You can never be too careful.

I have learned to trust gut feelings, though sometimes those gut feelings are wrong. This time I hope with everything in my body that it is.

This incessant line of thinking always happens when things are good, for a little too long. Granted, Brent is still having his eyes and ears follow us in the shadows, we all choose to ignore them, leaving us in this sense of peace and relaxation. One could say we are living in the moment, not taking a single breath for granted because it's true when people say nothing lasts forever.

My demons, though quiet, are never quite silenced. Calm as they may be, they wait patiently for a reason to wake, taking an overdue breath. They are begging for me to listen to their poison tongues as their toxic breath whispers the things I fear most while they crawl out of their dark dungeon, hidden away in my brain, down into my ears.

The question is, will my overthinking lead me to open the gates to my ears and feed into their lies?

It's New Year's eve, a day where the alcoholics have an excuse to drink without getting shamed, the drug addicts binge the party drugs but don't stand out like a sore thumb and the depressed realize that today marks another year of misery ahead for them. New Year's used to be a favorite holiday, if it's even considered one, of mine and solely for the reasons listed above. It was the one day of the year where strangers and friends didn't care if I got too drunk or high out of my mind because they were doing the same. The only day where the only person ashamed of my life was myself.

Now though, I'm in a different period of my life. With my sobriety, I would make the decision for Callie and I to only go out to a club or bar until midnight and then we would leave. Since I've fallen off the wagon and gotten back up a couple times this year, I have a lot of anxiety surrounding going out tonight. Not because I think I'm going to relapse, not that it isn't a possibility, but because the last time I went out I got kidnapped and then ended up relapsing. Then you factor in Brent and there's a lot to worry about with that. Could he strike tonight? Are we prepared to strike back if it comes to that?

I just need my brain to shut the fuck up, and that is the scariest thing I could want. That is why I got into drug use in the first place.

Harry has been going into the studio since we went the first time, not every day of course but that's where he is today. He got invited by Mitch to come in this morning because he had been working on one of the songs Harry had written. When I asked Harry to show me which one he said I had to wait. I didn't push further and kissed him goodbye as he hurried out the door.

Now here I sit, on the beach with a cup of coffee in my hands and my journal resting on the blanket beneath me. The salt kissed wind caresses my skin and flows through my hair, calming my mind slightly. I stare at the waves crashing, the white water washing up to the shore. It's a beautiful day today, with only a few clouds sparingly painting white against the bright blue. I remember the first time I saw the beach on the west coast, Birdie of course had taken me.

It was one of the first things we did when I moved here. We were on the beach for hours, just sitting on towels in swimsuits, of course I was wearing a long sleeved cover up to try and cover the things I had done to myself. I stared out at the water just like I'm doing now while she stared at me.