Daddy Issues - Johnnyboy

27; We get what we deserve, so way down we go.

    Maybe I should of killed myself when I had the chance, why didn't I? Well because I was a coward, and didn't want to leave people behind in pain. But what I'm feeling right now, I'd have taking my own life than feeling the constant lurching of my stomach, I felt like If I moved even an inch, I'd heave and throw up nothing. Me and Ponyboy were settling down from the experience in the living room, Darry had told us to sleep it off and that we will talk about our options in the morning.

   I think that I got some kind of stomach bug, because Jesus Christ, I couldn't  even seem to move while I was like this. But I ended up not even sleeping, it hurt too much, to the point where I was just silently begging for whoever or whatever to just take me away from this, it hurt so much but I know I've been through much worse so, I pulled it together. I lay there, as still as possible, easing my aching stomach just a touch, calming my senses. I can't believe what the hell just happened. I couldn't process it correctly, I was so confused, What had happened? This isn't how things are supposed to be, we were supposed to be on the other side of town by now, but, I guess I finally came to my senses.

    I never really thought about what I was doing, it was always just to do it, feel relief and then do it again at some time, and I can't help but feel extremely guilty because of what I got Pony into, I shouldn't have let this go this far, I shouldn't have fucking did it in the first place, what is wrong with me? I am completely and utterly serious about that damn question. What is wrong with me? Am I really that fucked up to the point of using substances to mask my so called ''problems" ? Why couldn't I just be a normal person and feel grief for a while and then move on, that's what was supposed to happen. Why does this type of shit always happen on those who fucking already have a ton on their shoulders-- no fuck that, this was my fault. All mine.

    I can't even blame anyone anymore, that's how pathetic I've gotten, I can't blame this on my father because it's been months since he died. I can't use that excuse anymore. My mother, I guess I could blame everyone on her but what good would that do me? Absolutely nothing. And I haven't seen her in so long to the point where I should feel a little normal at this point,

   At this point in time, I think that maybe I do need to just up and leave. All of this drama, all of this pity, could've been so easily avoided if I didn't rain on their parade with my drug problems. My thoughts were suddenly halted by a faint whisper, and I looked over to see tears running down his face and he sat up quickly,

"Johnny? Can I ask something?" His eyes were dull, irises were grey almost, the usual color of his eyes were draining completely and so were his other prominent features, his face was slumped and tired, His smile lines had disappeared completely and was replaced with a deep frown. His shoulders were slumped, and he looked afraid, and he was shaking as well.

"Yeah, you alright? Why are you shaking so much?" I took ahold of his hand and gently kisses it lazily, kind of tired myself.

"Uh--" His eyes got a little glassy, and he didn't look at me in the eyes, just sideways glances. "Why did we decide to do this?" I swallowed hard, and looked to the ground.

"Do what?" I asked and he gave me a look and I played dumb, I didn't want to answer this, it'll just make me feel worse.

"The heroin, John." He snapped, and I sighed angrily,

"Please don't call me John, you know I don't like that,"

"Well maybe if you would just talk about things--"

"Maybe I don't want to talk about things! Maybe I just want to fucking get this over with somI can move on with my damn life!" I sat up and regretted but the pain felt a little good, he stood up then too and crossed his arms.