Ain't It Fun

Something In The Way.

Underneath the bridge
The tarp has sprung a leak
And the animals I've trapped
Have all become my pets
And I'm living off of grass
And the drippings from the ceiling
But it's okay to eat fish
'Cause they don't have any feelings

Something in the way
"Something In The Way" // Nirvana.

Staring at the counter, my eyes burn holes into it. I take a large swig of Jack, wishing it could take this unbearable pain away.
I know I deserve to feel like this.
"How many days have you been awake?" Some bimbo with big hair next to me asks, sipping on her drink.
I shrug in response & take another sip. I think this is my third day, but if I talk, I will break down.
As soon as the ambulance took John away from me, I came to the Whisky to drink. I haven't slept, eaten, or really moved since that night.
It turns out that John was right.
So was Nancy. And everybody fucking else.
Slash was just using me for sex. When Slash found me holding John in my arms, he called an ambulance, but he hasn't bothered to look for me or anything. Guns N' Roses moved onto their next city by now.
This is entirely my fault. I threw away my job, my best friend, my apartment, & my life for a rock star who couldn't care less about me.
I'm so fucking sorry, John.
My heart has been torn into shreds, & I can't recover from this. John was practically my brother. We were the closest friends could possibly be. We were in sync.
The bartender hands me another Jack Daniel's, which I open immediately, downing half of it within two seconds.
I'm selfish, & I'm a fucking idiot.
John tried to help me, & he told me how he felt. I got pissed because I didn't want my love for Slash to be questioned. I made John take his life for some guy that I didn't even know.
If I could trade places with John, I wouldn't hesitate to do that. He doesn't deserve to be dead.
When nobody else fucking liked me, he threw the ball to me in gym class. When I was raped by some old douche bag, John helped me find out who the guy was & report him to the police. When I lost my dog, John helped me search for her all night.
He killed himself because of me.
I hear a whimper escape my throat, but the bar is full, & luckily, nobody hears.
Finishing my drink, I head to the bathroom then launch the glass bottle to the wall. The broken shards shower to the ground; it's a visual of my heart.
I can't do this. I keep breaking down, destroying myself & whatever's in sight. I'm going to die from either harm to myself or a broken heart.
The tears pour down my cheeks naturally, which has become a mantra for my eyes every hour or so. I have never felt this horrible before in my life. This pain is eating me alive.
Why did I have to be such a bitch? Why couldn't I have realized that John is all I've ever had?
Raging with hormones, I pounce forward, my fist going through the glass of the mirror. I don't even feel it. I pull my bleeding hand out of the shattered mirror & start to obliterate the glass, needing to release the emotions.
As I get pieces of glass stuck in my hand, I clench my jaw, continuing to punch the mirror. When I'm done, I take a glimpse of myself in the broken mirror, which is partially smeared with blood.
I look like a stranger.
My green eyes are full of insanity, rage, & self-hatred. They are wide, haunting. My black hair is greasy and flat from not showering for days. Blistered, I've eaten my lips up so much in the past day that I'm surprised I still even have a mouth.
Who am I becoming?