Oblivion ➵ Billie Joe Armstrong

26

Frances
Present

•••

I realized something. I realize I don't have to force myself to do anything I don't feel comfortable with. I realized I don't have to love Billie.

It wouldn't be simple, but, I truly don't love him. I don't have to be with someone I don't love.

Sure, I made him happy, he loved me.

But I didn't love him.

He's been having outbursts and acting weird, now that it's almost been a month since I was out of the hospital.

He'd never want to tell me the day of the accident. Never.

He'd get uncomfortable, every time I asked, he blew up. His eyes would go crazy and his nose would flare, telling me it wasn't important.

He's hiding something, it's making it difficult for me to even trust him.

Maybe, deep down, I don't even want to love him. Maybe, deep down, I know he doesn't deserve my love anymore.

I rubbed my temples, groaning at the thoughts in my head.

I rolled my eyes in annoyance as I heard the front door open, it was Billie, coming back from the grocery store.

He had refused to let me come, told me it was too much, but it was suspicious.

He came back in, stumbling, his eyes red with a grocery bag.

I scoffed, looking at him. "Did you seriously take three hours just to buy soda and a bag of chips?" I said, pulling the stuff out of the bag to check what he had bought.

"Shut up." He slurred, crashing down on the coach, a bag of something falling out of his pants pocket.

I marched right over, picking whatever had fallen out of his pants.

"What the fuck is this?" I seethed, throwing it on the coffee table.

I knew what it was, he had explained to me what it was. For fucks sakes, he told me we did it almost every every day.

"That's fucking weed." I bursted out, grabbing my hair in frustration.

My head started pounding, my eyes squeezing shut while Billie remained clueless on the couch.

"Billie you have to quit, for the baby. Any drugs, weed, acid, all of it." The words repeated in my head, louder and louder.

"You just expect me to drop all of it? Not even the fucking weed?" The words came after mine, my legs grew weak, my balance giving out.

"Billie, It's for the baby. Do you really want them to grow up and see their father high all the time or not even meet their fucking father?" I fell to the floor, holding onto the coffee table for support.

"Look what happened to Kurt Cobain. You may even fucking overdose and leave me and the baby. Do all those I love you's mean nothing? If I can quit, you can too."  I had begged him, my voice was weak, but in my head it could be heard in a thousand mile radius.