Brightside | ✓

47 | mr. brightside

"Um. Hi. Again. My name's Eddie. Um. I'm an Aries, they say that comes with a lot of rage and... I kind of get it. Like I'm made of fire. That's a zodiac thing too, isn't it? Maybe you don't need to know that. Do you? Um, I don't do this often—or at all, you know that. I'm sorry that you know that. But I hurt someone I really care about and if this is what it takes to... to not do that again, it's worth it.

"I never really thought of myself as a person who needs help, but it might be because my parents never tried to get help and they needed it more than I did. I always thought of this as something that wasn't necessary until I was ready to jump off a building but I never really... thought that far ahead. I mean. I got very close. But I'm not good at thinking ahead. And I guess I always thought that I wasn't that bad. Like, other people have it worse so I shouldn't waste someone's time with my bullshit problems because someone else's life-ending or life-altering problems deserve the time of day on ears willing to listen. But. I'm here. That's worth something, right? What else am I supposed to say?

"I'm an alcoholic. Most of the time I feel like I can't get through a day without drinking something. I think I'm six weeks sober right now, that's the longest I've ever not been drunk since I started drinking too young. That's kind of embarrassing when I think about it. I always told myself I'd quit drinking when I finally quit smoking but I don't think nicotine patches work for me or maybe I need to use more than one but if it's all the same to you, sometimes I'd still rather cough a lung piss-drunk than exist in a world where I have to actually be coherent. Maybe that's worrisome, I'm sorry.

"My drinking got worse after that night at the bar. Guess I should've led with that, huh? Right. Um. Well, a few months ago someone groped me in a bar and kissed me without permission and, you know, probably would've done something worse if my friends hadn't intervened. That might be speculation but last I checked this wasn't a court of law. Then someone broke into my apartment and taunted me about it. I haven't been back there since because I'm... scared of it. Terrified, actually. And between those two, between us two, I can't stop crying. I can't stop feeling numb to... everything. Including people I love. Never said that out loud before, you're really good at this. I guess that's kind of your job.

"I guess most of my addictions came from the idea that I am unlovable as is. I've always felt too hard to digest. Never did a damn thing to change it. Even my sex addiction came from the idea I couldn't trick anyone into loving me. Hell. My parents didn't love me—have twins, they said, ditch 'em when it gets too hard, they said. And I don't blame my sister for not knowing the first thing about raising us, but it didn't help that she always seemed to know the answers for Indy and not me. I probably didn't help her when I didn't know the answer to why I kept getting into fights. I think I have this weirdly self-destructive gene where I think if I'm in pain, it means no one else is, and somewhere in my stupid brain, that's how it's supposed to be. That I'm protecting people by letting myself get hurt. Emotionally, physically.

"I got my first concussion and decided I was too stupid for college, they told me I had a possibility for CTE later in life and I figured why not get a couple more concussions and make it almost a guarantee? Why not let myself get hurt a little more? I don't know. Maybe that stems from my parents ditching us. Hurt myself before I could get hurt. Turn down people who love me because eventually I'll hurt them because that's what I was bred to do, because I didn't know them long but if I know anything about my parents it's that I am nothing if not their daughter because I love to burn fucking bridges. I also can't get hurt if I hurt them first, so why even try when my thought on love is that it doesn't exist? I hurt my sister because I didn't even notice she was hurting because I'm an emotionally constipated asshole who probably needs a laxative—god, that's really gross, I'm so sorry.