Open Your Arms

Chapter 93

May 13, 2007

For the past couple of weeks, Ville hasn't been the same at all. He's been drinking nonstop--which is normal for him, but now it's just constantly. He doesn't stop drinking. 

I don't know why he's been acting like this. He's just been sitting in our music room and writing lyrics and playing the guitar. He rarely talks to me. I don't remember the last time we had a genuine conversation. 

I have no idea what to do, either. I try to suggest that he go talk to a therapist about it, but he claims that it wouldn't be good for him or do anything. 

He doesn't even sleep in the bed with me. He ends up passing out drunk on the couch, throwing up the next morning but still continuing to drink. 

I'm about to lose my mind if he doesn't do anything about it. 

Things seemed to be going so well for us. This always happens. Something really good happens to us, but then something is wrong with one person and everything turns to shit. 

I knock on the door to the music room and open it up to find Ville asleep on the desk, three empty beer bottles beside him and countless on the floor. 

He doesn't pick up after himself. If I wasn't here to pick up after him, the apartment would be a mess. 

Groaning, I decide to wake him up. He can't just keep fucking doing this. 

I walk over to him and gently shake him. "Ville come on, wake up."

He lifts his head up and groans, rubbing his eyes and stretching his arms out while yawning. "Oh, did I fall asleep?"

"Yes."

"What's wrong with you?" He asks, leaning back in the chair. 

"Look at this!" I snap, pointing to everything on the floor and on the desk. 

He furrows his eyebrows and sighs. "Alright, I'm sorry. I haven't been cleaning up and I'm sorry and--"

I groan once more, throwing my hands by my side. "That's not the fucking problem, Ville. Look at you! You're a mess! You're drunk all the fucking time and you don't even talk to me! I DON'T KNOW YOU!"

He stares at me with a blank expression. 

I've been keeping all of this inside for weeks and it feels good to let it out, but it probably doesn't feel good for him since he's the one that heard it. 

"Well I had no idea that you felt this way," He says. "If I really bothered you this much, then why didn't you say something?"

"Because I'm not your mother and I don't pick up after you. I was hoping that you would realize that this is not okay!"

Tears begin to fall from my eyes and I sigh, walking away and throwing myself onto the couch. I cry into my hands, feeling worthless and like I just went back to after the baby died, except this time he and I switched spots. 

The only thing is that I don't know why he's acting like this. If it's because of his friend's suicide, then he should get professional help instead of wallowing in it, but he insists that that's not the problem. He's just "trying to focus on his album" which is fucking bullshit. 

He's in such a dark place and I don't know how to get him out. I'm worried for him. I'm worried that he's going to continue to spiral down and not get better.

I walk into the bedroom and slam the door, locking it behind me so Ville doesn't come in and try to talk to me. I grab my phone and call Mige. 

"Larissa?" He answers. "Are you alright?"