Dear Dirty Diary

She - Hit Rock Bottom 1

I am me. But I am not me. 

I feel like I'm watching someone else's story while being forced to live in their body.  This was the general state of my mind the first day it happened. A lot had gone wrong, As usual. 

Bad things come in 3's they say... well not for me. For me, bad things come in hails and at the speed of sound. I was already used to it. You don't live in a body for 22 years without adjusting to a thing or two.  But this time, the bad things had hit me hard. Things weren't working out the way I'd planned and I was feeling like an absolute failure. 

I had few friends, I had no money,  I was so single it hurt and life was treating me like a seaweed. When you hit rock bottom, things can only get better, right?... Right?

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He came to visit. 

He'd visited before but this time it was different. 

"You can't let life win, you need to fight back Ray..." He was talking, but I wasn't listening I was intensely plotting my suicide. I needed to find something that wouldn't be too painful. I was a wuss, I didn't own a car, so it would be hard to get to the middle of any bridges, cutting my wrist was a no, I didn't wanna watch my pretty fluids waste.

 Couldn't I drink myself to death? Or smoke to death? All those warnings on the pack and none of them were actually useful when you need them to be. I groaned and face palmed and winced as my bad breathe hit me like a bitch slap. 

I hadn't showered or brushed in days. I didn't understand how he could stand to sit next to my depressed self.  It was then that I noticed the silence. He wasn't speaking any more or dropping any of his motivational shit. He just sat there, looking at me. We were both sitting on the rug in my tiny one bedroom apartment leaning on my frameless bed. 

He was looking at me weird. Okay... um, why was he looking at me like that? Did he ask me something? Fuck it. I'm too lazy and depressed to care. So I did the next best thing.  When in doubt lie down on the ground in the fetal position and hope it all goes away. 

Although... he didn't go away, He was one of the few people in my life who didn't care that I liked to look like a hobo in my free time and that I was a hopeless virgin and that I had serious anxiety and that i had just failed one of the most important once in a life time interviews that would have had me set for life.

Instead of going away...He curled up behind me, realizing that talking was the last thing I wanted to do as he pulled me close to him and tucked his arm around my waist as I got ready to take another nap as I had been doing all weekend.

He started running his hands through my corn rows. I shivered a little, it felt good. His hands kept roving and I kept relaxing...which was probably why I didn't see the next 3 years coming.

Good night Diary.