Stella Starlet

Nostalgic

After going to the psychiatrist for a couple weeks, she had finally come to a decision.

I was diagnosed with schizophrenia.

The diagnosis came as a complete shock to me. I wasn't even aware that I was exhibiting symptoms of schizophrenia until she brought them to my attention. Even then, I was refusing to believe it.

The diagnosis put a weight on me, like two tons of woe were added to my shoulders.

The psychiatrist prescribed me antipsychotics, but one I held the pill bottle in my hand, my disbelief grew in strength. I refused to accept it.

I buried the full bottle under my clothes in a drawer and shut it with force.

A month later after I buried those pills, Carter thought I was getting better. He thought I was taking them.

When I saw him, I felt my familiar forced smile manifest on my face. I made myself move with more bounce. I made myself laugh louder and crinkle my eyes when I smiled. He never knew a thing.

"So Stella, I was thinking, what do you think about a road trip to Arizona? Maybe go to the desert and catch a scorpion," he laughed and his eyes warmed with joy.

"It's a date."

He grinned and pulled me closer, resting his chin on my head.

My smile quickly faded and my eyes darkened in melancholy. I felt guilty. Carter made me so happy, he made all the background noise and worry go away.

Not anymore.

My sadness was getting worse.

I somehow felt like I was cheating Carter. I wasn't genuinely me anymore around him. I was that faux bubbly, cheery girl I had tried so hard to outrun.

I didn't want to worry Carter. He didn't deserve to have me pile my stress onto his shoulders.

"Well, I have to run." He glanced at his watch. "My mother is expecting me to be there, it's most of my family. Are you sure you didn't want to come?" He asked again.

I shook my head. "It's too soon."

He nodded and quickly kissed me on the cheek.

"Farewell, my love."

With that, he shut the front door and left. I shut my eyes tightly, feeling the familiar waves of heartache wash over me, taking me away from the shore that Carter anchored me to.

Self destruction was calling for me to indulge in its noxious shore, the hedonism trying to seduce me.

I didn't know what I was to do.

I craved the feeling of release. That was what self destruction did for me. It released the feelings I bottled up inside of me that I never allowed anyone else to see.

Self destruction became like a drug; incredibly addicting, highly potent and exceptionally deadly.

With each drink, drag, hit and man, I felt better. Almost like the weight on my shoulders was, at that moment, lifted.

It was so easy to get addicted to a vice, especially ones that felt like they took my broken heart and temporarily mended it back together; maybe it was the faux dopamine cocaine created in my brain or the euphoria that sleeping with different men gave me.

I was trying to not fall back into the nets of my old, wicked ways.

Distract yourself, I thought.

I scrolled through the online news and saw a face that I never thought I would ever see again.

The headline read "Business tycoon and notorious playboy Carlisle Alessio is seen with leggy model. Where is his wife?"

My heart beat rapidly picked up when I saw the photos of him. He looked just like I remembered him; platinum hair reflecting the sun, tanned Italian skin and cobalt-blue eyes.

The woman he was with was undeniably beautiful, fitting the profile of a model indeed. Long blonde hair and legs the length of the equator.

I didn't have the right to be jealous. Here I was, with another man trying to desperately erase my memories of Carlisle. But, when I saw his grin at her, I couldn't help but feel . . . something.

No, it wasn't jealousy at her. It was the jealousy that I could never have that. It wasn't the melancholy of seeing his grin at her. It was the melancholy of knowing I would never see that grin in person again. It wasn't frustration at him for being with someone else. It was frustration because, God, at that moment, I remembered that I did love him. 

I still love him. 

I didn't love Carter like I loved Carlisle. I loved Carter because of his timing. He was able to fill the gap of my sorrow at the most perfect moments. 

What the fuck am I doing? 

Why wasn't I fighting for him? I never fought before, I always ran, always tried to mute the noise of my chaos out with something immoral. 

But I wanted to fight. I wanted to knock down everything that came my way, trying to stop me. 

I wanted to hear his voice. His slight Italian accent, soft and gentle when he would hold me in his arms. 

I was lying to myself and Carter. Carter didn't deserve this, I didn't deserve him. He was too good for me, he cared about me too much. 

The thought scared me. 

I was almost positive he loved me. 

I didn't want him to love me. He should've stayed with Kaitlin and I never should have gotten in between them. 

I was fucking up his life. 

I needed to leave. 

My eyes were leaking tears as I wrote him a goodbye letter.

Carter,

I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen. I never meant to mess up your life. I was lying to you this whole time, I can't be fixed. This is the world's revenge for all those I have hurt. 

I'm sorry. I am so sorry. But please, never forgive me. I don't deserve it.

I tucked the letter into an envelope and began packing my bags. 

Only two suitcases. That's how many suitcases it took to pack up my whole life. 

After I loaded them into my car, I stopped and looked around the house. I loved this house so much. 

I couldn't allow myself to get so nostalgic. I had to leave. 

So, I did what I always did; I pushed the feelings aside and shut the front door.

After driving to Carter's house, I tucked the envelope in the bottom of the door. I wasn't able to do it without shedding tears.

After looking back at his house one last time, I drove away. 

I drove into the night, the moon high and bright, the stars glimmering, and my heart aching.