"You don't get it, that boy was born lost, like his daddy, he's been slipping through my fingers ever since the day I gave birth to him. It's his father's darkness, you leave him alone and he'll head straight towards death."
Once you had to put the...
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One of the first things I did in the morning was check my phone. It's been two years since I'd seen my ex-boyfriend. But I couldn't change the fact he'd left me. He'd left me alone in exchange for his addiction. We'd been together through the thick and the thin. But I couldn't be there for him anymore. Not since my own problems began. I rolled out of my bed, in my university dorm. I am attending the UCLA Herb Alpert School of Music. I used to attend the California Ballet school, carrying on my mother's legacy when I was young. My father had enrolled me after my mum found him cheating on her. It was an apology. A big one. But I'd gotten kicked out on my own accord and was sent to a state school when I met the ex-boyfriend who ruined my life. I had convinced myself, no matter how uncomfortable I was, that I should have one. I should force myself to enter into physical conduct. But I'd never really felt safe with it.
I switched and entered into the university having a bachelor in performance concentration. Training to be a musician instead of a dancer or anything else. I'd stayed here, in California, in L.A. It was all because of my ex that I didn't leave and go off to Julliard. But no one can make you do anything you aren't already considering. I tried to move on with my life after Nick, my ex. He was a good guy, he'd struggled with addiction, he was addicted to heroin. It was funny considering how addictive his personality and whole being was.
I was hooked, addicted to him, it wasn't a healthy relationship as much as we pretended it was. I remember looking back on the days where it was just us having fun and being kids. But I knew better than to dwell on it. I couldn't blame him for me never putting down the bottle. For never being able to not drink my breakfast, lunch and dinner. I was trapped in a cycle of alcoholism and I knew it better than anyone else did that I was going to end up violent and a horrible person. It didn't help I had a predisposition to addiction. My father was a dead beat drunk who still managed to put on a suit and run a company worth more than all the houses in our neighbourhood combined. My mother, hooked on prescription pain killers, was barely ever home long enough, always too busy touring with her ballet company. I wasn't an only child so I couldn't play the, I was lonely and that's why I did it card. I had an older brother. I didn't know where he was. But I knew he'd be safe. He was strong. And a lawyer. I saw him on my birthday, he was interning at a lawyering company.
I was never lonely, but I was always used in a way I wish I wasn't. Clawing trying to escape from the hands gripping so hard they drew blood. It was a cycle I couldn't escape from.
I rolled off my bed shrugging my clothes over my body trying to remember what it feels like to actually care where you were going. I was leaving to go and eat at a diner. As I walked in I sat in front of Jules with a frown and sunglasses on.
"You know drinking every second of the day isn't healthy. I heard if you drink enough your liver begins to rot inside you." Jules gasped leaning closer to me as if it was news to me.
"Sounds tragic. Can't wait to see how much my liver can take." I dryly commented as a coke was placed in front of me and I got out my flask and grabbed my drink, skulling a good portion before I poured the alcohol into the cup having a sip. I then put my flask back in my signature leather jacket before skulling my drink large sip at a time.
