THIEF [S.M.]

the end

Journal Entry #90

Long time no write. I just dug this journal out of a box that's been sitting in the corner forever. It's been five years since... the incident. I went to Arlo's funeral. I shouldn't have. Venus hit me and screamed and cried, and I just shouldn't have gone. A few days later someone new moved in to Venus' apartment. She had moved.

I left town. I moved to a quiet place in Vermont. About a year later I decided I needed to live somewhere slightly more lively, but not too expensive, so I made the big jump to Reno. It wasn't as fulfilling to me as I had hoped it would be. I think moving was just a distraction. To get away from... what was going on inside me. When I was settled, I met a girl. She stuck around for a little while. We had a place together. Used to party a bunch. But she got me into some trouble. Some rough shit. I started doing some hard stuff. Heroin. Coke. I thought I was being smart staying away from meth, though I was offered the opportunity, but it corrupted me just as much, I think. On all that shit for about two years, I lost a lot of weight. My cheeks hollowed. I didn't even notice until I got sober, though. It was all just a distraction.

I wear glasses now. And I have a job. At a casino. I worked my way up to management. It pays well. It was about time I actually buckle down, be an adult. Oh, and I met my current roommate working there. Sebastian. He's my best friend. He's the most hilarious guy I've ever met, and even though he's always bringing someone different home every night on the weekends (and occasionally on weekdays,) he's a damn good roommate.

And I am sober. A year and a half sober. 552 days, to be exact. And I feel good. I go to meetings occasionally. When I'm feeling down. A year ago I went to one, and I sat in the back of the room, still embarrassed to be there. But I saw her there. My Venus. And she went up and told her story. She said she had gotten into drugs and alcohol, but was a year sober at that point. She told us about Arlo, about New York, and about me. She said she had forgiven it. She didn't blame anyone. She said she couldn't torture herself with the "what ifs" and she was moving on. She was engaged to be married, and she had a job that she loved. And she smiled softly after telling her story, her eyes sparkling as she looked at the ceiling. "I am okay." she said.

I left the meeting before she could see me. And that was the last time I saw her.

I still think about her almost every day. But it doesn't hurt as much as it did. I just hope, with every fiber of my being, that she is still happy.

On a separate note, I met a girl yesterday. She has the prettiest smile I've ever seen. We're going on a date tonight, and I hope it all goes well.

So the point of all this... I guess... is to put it down so I can move on. I think I'm going to put this journal to rest now. There's too many memories attached to it that I just don't think it's healthy to revisit. But I really am okay. I am okay, and I can breathe and my head is clear and my future is... ahead of me. And that's okay. I'm not worried.

I am okay.