Who You Love (Katy Perry/John Mayer Fanfiction)

Chapter Sixteen: Friends, Lovers or Nothing

Katy:
Don't try to contact me ever again. I'm sorry I ever placed my trust in you. Goodbye John...

It had been two weeks since I got that text message from Katy.

Two weeks, since I felt myself mentally, physically and emotionally launch into the biggest depression of my life. I would read the text over, and over, and over, as a method to torture myself. To punish myself for what I had done.

Of course I wanted to say sorry. To explain to her the truth. I would've given anything in the world to be able to say those words to her. But I couldn't... Not because I didn't have the opportunity, but because I was a coward. I didn't want to see her, because I knew I had hurt her.

I knew I was most definitely hurting her by not trying to contact.... But I loved her so much, that I had to learn to let go.
Again.

I couldn't imagine spending the rest of my life without her. I would only become more depressed. Thoughts of self harm came into my head... I hated myself so fucking much for what I'd done to her, that I couldn't stand to live with myself. I avoided every mirror in the house, partially due to my deteriorating hygiene. I hadn't left the house since returning home from the Grammy's that morning. I couldn't. I couldn't emotionally prepare myself to deal with anyone else.

I ignored phone calls, text messages and emails from everyone who tried to contact me. I didn't want anyone. I wanted her.
But I couldn't have her, or talk to her, and it killed me.

I couldn't sleep. My body felt heavy and tired, but my brain wouldn't let the thoughts of guilt, anger, stress, frustration and heartbreak leave my mind. The memories of the night replayed over and over in my head like a jukebox, most definitely becoming distorted and fictional now. Over exaggerating them to the point that would make me feel so uneasy and so sick to the stomach, that I refused to eat. There wasn't a single thing that could enter my body, and even if it did, it soon came back up.

I knew I had lost an incredible amount of weight, but I didn't care. I hadn't shaved, and I had only showered once, which was before I read Katy's text. I knew I must've looked like I'd been living in the forest, reinventing myself as soon sort of cave man. I had every facility available to clean myself up, but I couldn't move myself off of the floor, and when I did, it was only to go to the bathroom.

I would lay in the darkness for days on end, my eyes wide open, staring into space. Thinking. Feeling. Crying, which I had done a lot of, definitely out of the ordinary for someone like me. I knew I needed help, but I wasn't ever going to let myself get access to it.

I found myself relapsing on all the problems I thought that were in my past. I started to drink, and once I started I couldn't stop. I thought that I could have more control over myself, but soon I found I didn't have a choice. I could either drink to feel temporarily okay, or I could sit and rip myself apart emotionally. It seemed to help immensely, though part of me knew that it was wrong. I just didn't care anymore. I didn't care about myself, my mental or physical being. I had dug myself a hole, which just seemed to get bigger and bigger.

I felt like there was not a single thing to do to make my life better. Nothing could be done... Not unless you erase the past. Which is impossible. I sat, day, night, morning, afternoon, waiting. Waiting for a miracle. Waiting for someone to tell me it was all a dream.

The whiskey, the rum, the vodka. My only friends... The only things to help me feel less pain. To numb my body. She was so far out of my reach now, I just didn't know what to do. I had been living for the past year, and all my life before meeting her, alone, basically. Why was it now that I had gotten her back, I couldn't bear myself to let go? It was hard the first time, but not this hard. It was unbearable... I didn't know what to do with myself.

I finally dragged myself from the corner of the room, my limbs in agony from the sudden movement. I couldn't remember the last time I had gotten up.... It was at least a day ago. I felt exhausted, I had no energy whatsoever. It was completely dark, and as I pulled myself up I tried to feel my way around the apartment.

As I moved around, I felt the alcohol take more effect in my head, and everything suddenly started moving. Spinning. I felt myself stumble, falling into the side of the wall, hurting my ribs.
"Fucking hell," I mumbled to myself, continuing to find my way to the bathroom.

I finally felt the cool tiles of the bathroom meet my feet, as I slid my hands on the walls to feel my way around. I finally felt the light switch under my right hand, before bracing myself and shutting my eyes as I flicked the switch.

The light that poured into the room felt like I was staring into direct sunlight, even though my eyes were closed. I hadn't turned any lights on in weeks, and I wasn't even sure of what time or day it was, though I assumed it was the middle of the night.

I slowly started to peel my eyes open as they stung the more I came into contact with the light of the room. I finally had full vision, but everything was blurry from the light, and I felt myself stagger towards the counter. I opened the cabinet, all the supplies falling out upon my touch. I grunted loudly as I attempted to shove them back in, though I couldn't see very well, which I realised was now because of the excessive amount of alcohol I've been drinking.

I finally found what I was looking for, and held it tightly in my palm. I finally closed the cabinet with my other hand, coming into contact with my reflection for the first time in weeks.

Even under the influence of alcohol, I could see I looked absolutely terrible.

My eyes were bloodshot. The bags that had formed under my eyes were dark, and heavy. I looked like I had been punched under both eyes, and my skin had turned an odd grey colour. My face had sunken in at the sides, and it appeared that I had lost a lot of weight. Everything about my appearance was awful... I don't think I've ever looked as horrible as I did staring back at myself in that moment. Good, I thought. I looked exactly how I felt on the inside.

I felt a sudden rush of adrenaline hit me as I felt thoughts enter my mind, amongst the alcohol and depression. I knew I wasn't entirely thinking straight... If I was sober I would've thought I was completely out of my mind. I knew I shouldn't and couldn't possibly take this drastic action. Surely I wasn't that mentally unstable....

I didn't even have to think twice before I found myself putting it closer and closer to my body. I hated every single part about myself, and this was my only resort to make the pain go away. To make me forget about the pain.
I just couldn't live with myself anymore.

It was my last resort.