The Original High (Koli) ✔️

26: It's Been Six Months

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do, Justin." I mumbled sadly, almost desperately as I eventually told him the whole situation about my apparent memory loss. I had to talk to someone about it, and he was the only person I could talk to.

"Well, it sounds to me like they're just things that you probably shouldn't be remembering." He stated skeptically without much thought. I ran my hands through my hair and sighed. "I mean, let's be honest. . . apparently whatever you forgot wasn't that important. And maybe it's for the best that you don't remember."

I chuckled darkly. But maybe he was right, though. I ended up here because I tried to kill myself. That was the story. I was upset, and then I overdosed without thinking. It probably wasn't a good idea to try and remember why I did that. . . maybe if I remembered, then I would slip right back into my depression. And I didn't want that.

"You know what you should do?" Justin then started. I looked at him questioningly, waiting for him to continue. "After you get out of here, focus on yourself. Go do something completely different. Go somewhere you haven't been before. Get to know yourself a little. Love yourself, before you try to love somebody else."

I blinked a few times, surprised by what he just said to me.

A smile spread across his face as he went on. "When I first got out of rehab, I knew I had to leave Vegas. That place poisoned me. Maybe you should leave LA for a while. It's just an idea." And maybe he had a point. "Name a place you've never been but always wanted to go to."

Somehow, it didn't take me very long to come up with an answer to that. "London." I simply told him.

I had this intriguing kind of love for the UK. I honestly didn't know why. The people, perhaps? The culture? Maybe even because of the weather? Everyone knew that I wasn't all that keen about the constant sunshine here in LA.

"Okay. . . that's a bit far off, but alright." Justin murmured with amusement. "Say you will go to London after you get out. Spend a few months there, maybe a year or more, who knows. Get a job, make new friends, explore. . . Live a little before you bind yourself. I think it would do you good."

I cocked my head sideways as I stared at Justin, thinking about what he had just told me. Was he right? Was he even being serious? It actually sounded like a pretty good idea, to be honest.

"You're thinking about it, aren't you?" Justin then asked me with a smirk playing on his lips. I simply nodded and laughed to myself. "Well, what's holding you back?"

"Nothing, I suppose." I told him as I shrugged. "Well, except my sister."

"That will only hold you back if you let it."

I was going to take a long time to think about this suggestion of his. It all sounded great to be honest, but what about my life here in LA? Or. . . what was left of it anyways. What about my music?

Perhaps it just wasn't my time yet.

But what was I going to do about my sister? If I even considered going all the way to London. And what the heck would I do there anyway? I hardly knew a single soul there. I vaguely remembered a guy who moved there after high school, but that was it honestly. It wasn't like he would be waiting for me with open arms.

It did sound very appealing, however. . . to go to a place where no one knew me and no one knew about my past- where no one knew me. A place where I could start over, even if it was just for a little while. Who knows, maybe I will just stay there for good?

London did sound really nice, for some reason. I couldn't really put a finger on why, though.

I had to weigh out all the pros and cons. Plus, it wasn't a matter of just going there. I had to be sure that I could get a job there. I had to be sure that I had a place to stay at. And then there was immigration and everything. That was a lot of paperwork.

I wondered if anyone would even really miss me. Probably not, though. Maybe Vic would, for a little while, but he'd get over it.

"You are doing pretty well, aren't you?" My therapist asked, as she went through my file. "You have been clear off drugs, alcohol and your medication for almost six months now. Have you been experiencing any problems? Cravings, suicidal thoughts, panic attacks?"

I shook my head. "Just the occasional panic attack from bad dreams. And nothing but a mad craving for normal food. . . and cigarettes." I admitted with a chuckle.

My therapist simply smiled at me. "You should be proud of yourself." She told me. And honestly I was. "However, you do know what it means to be a recovering addict right?" She then asked, furrowing her brows. "It means that you are very sensitive to becoming addicted again quite instantly if you decide to use again."

I nodded knowingly. That was the theory right; once addicted, always addicted. "I'm not planning on it." I told her, hoping she'd believe me. I was being honest anyways.

I wanted to stay clean once I got out of here. I really did. I knew that my thoughts on that had been all over the place during my time of being here, but could you blame me? I just didn't believe that I was able to get out of this routine of mine. But I had.

I was confused at first when my therapist said that I had been here for six months. That seemed crazy. There were so many holes in my memory. She told me that I probably suffered from some memory loss, due to my mind protecting itself, but that it was best to leave that alone. From what they could tell it was pretty short term, so if there were any important things that I needed to know, that my friends could tell me, or that the memories would eventually flood back in with time.

But I decided to listen to Justin's word and said that I didn't want to know. And if someday I did remember. . . well, I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.