[I Always Wanna Die (Sometimes) by The 1975]

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EXTREME TRIGGER WARNING: self-harm; suicide contemplation.

FIFTEEN: when you double your addictions.

August 9, 2016

Normally when I committed to something, I would struggle with fulfilling it. I always ran from my problems when they got too hard and that was something I absolutely hated about myself. But it wasn't as easy to take flight when I was breaking Paul's heart... It wasn't easy to look into his eyes and say that I didn't want to be with him anymore but it was much harder once we'd gotten to the house.

Paul had taken a longer route than usual -most likely because he expected that giving me more time to think about it would help. The car ride had started sad and ended awkward, his hand gripped tightly on the steering wheel and he hadn't looked at me. He didn't look at me once we'd gotten to the house either, just looking down as he opened the door and storming into the house.

I was left to trail behind him, my eyes blinking back tears, I hadn't cried and I honestly didn't want to because if I started, I wouldn't be able to stop. "So, what, you're gonna move out?"

That was him as I packed my things. My eyes were downcast as I shoved clothes into an old sports bag I had, I had so much shit there.

Living with Paul was so easy once we'd gotten back to that point, I moved so much shit in without even thinking twice and now I took over so much of the space. If I hadn't have left, he would've gotten sick of me anyway.

He was standing in the doorway, recently bigger arms crossed and his mouth was set in a straight line. With his eyes centered on me, he questioned my plan and honestly, I didn't have one. I knew I couldn't stay there though, not when I'd just broken up with him and the last painting we'd done together was mounted on the wall right behind him.

I avoided his eyes. "Paul-"

And he was laughing but it sounded forced and I wasn't sure if he were trying to seem apathetic or hurt. I could see the hurt, it was all over him. His body was stiff and he stood in the doorway... he was angry. "You're packing and then what? You're gonna go live with your dad? Is that the plan?" And he sounded so condescending that I swore my chest would cave in, "you're gonna run back to your dad because you're afraid?"

"Pl-please stop." Tears were pushing at the rims of my eyes and I tried to pack faster, tried to get most of my things so I didn't have to come back. I didn't want to come back, didn't want to see him so soon because as hard as it would be for me, I knew it would be harder for him.

"Explain it to me."

I stayed silent and all the hop had drained from his stance. Paul was stepping forward into the room, he was getting closer and I didn't like it. Standing, I went to shove the rest of my things into the bag with shaky hands. "We were- we were doing so good, I thought." His voice had softened, so had his face but his words were gritty and he sounded choked up, almost whispering. "And now you just don't wanna be with me anymore."

Slipping past him, I kept my head down. I was looking for my keys then, trying to grab a few more things. I had so much small shit there, I'd been there so long. I couldn't fit my laptop into the bag too so I held that. Tossing my bag on the couch, I tried to get situated. "Angel, we can-we can try other things, you don't have to do this-"

"I don't want to, Paul, what are you not getting?" And it was mean, that much I knew but he wasn't gonna stop if I kept dancing around his feelings. We were done, it was better this way, if he didn't want me off my meds, he didn't want me at all.

And I was sick of the sad looks, sick of the babying and the concerned questions. I hated it and I hated being reliant on him because that meant once he realized and decided he didn't want me anymore, it would hurt more.

Let's just cut our losses, you don't need my complications.

"So that's it? I don't have a say in any of this?" He'd asked asked after following me into he living room and he was stepping closer but not touching me. That was one thing I loved about Paul, no matter how much I pissed him off, he wouldn't touch me if I was angry. He gave me my space even when I was hurting him.

But this time wasn't like any other, I'd never really left him, never even hinted at it and I was sure he didn't know how to convince me to stay without compromising everything he wanted in this relationship. And I didn't want that.

"We're just...  done? We're not even gonna talk about it?" And his voice was choked up again, I could always tell when Paul was gonna cry. His voice was shaky and he was stepping back again as if the fact that I didn't even look at him was a slap in the face.

And I was finished with packing but I busied myself with reorganizing, hoping that he'd stop looking my way because if I turned around and saw his sad eyes, I wouldn't be able to leave. "There's nothing to talk about."

There wasn't. He didn't love me without medication and I didn't want to be on them anymore. And I wasn't gonna let him hurt himself trying to deal with me when he really didn't want to.

He didn't deserve that pain, not anymore.

"I love you, I thought that mattered." It did but it wasn't enough anymore, he didn't know who I was without being reliant on these fucking drugs, I didn't even know myself.

"I thought you loved me."

And when I didn't look up at that, his broken voice got harder and he was noticeably angry now. He was so upset and somehow that was easier to handle.

My silence hurt him, his breath catching in his throat and I watched him step back.

"Paul-"

"Fine." He was giving up and I heard him walk away the sound of keys jingling catching my attention and he was walking to the door now. "Leave your key, I'm going out."

And it sounded so broken behind an angry wall and I wasn't sure what to do anymore.

"I'm sorry." I tried, it covered by the door slam and I was sobbing into my arm then, sitting down on the couch. It was for the best so why did it hurt so bad?

: : :

I'd woken up a bit early the next morning, vomiting my brains out. With bleary eyes, I took a shower, sitting in a little longer to let the warmth sink in. My skin was a raw red and burned from the hot water, the piercing pain somehow relieving- I was feeling something.

Blinking back tears, I shakily stepped out the shower, my feet sinking into the carpet and I tried not to grimace at the wetness. My eyes were shut as I leant on the wall a little longer than normal, trying to alleviate the pounding in my head. I didn't remember what time I went to sleep but I was so fucking tired.

On shaky legs, I made my way back into my room, Danny snoring loudly and sprawled out on his bed. Avoiding looking at him, I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth, pulling on boxers before dropping my towel and I went to change. My body was trembling, surely exhaustion and the lack of medication. I hadn't taken my meds in about a week then and I hadn't thought of it.

Maybe when I stopped, my body would get used to it, I'd stopped before.

And you broke up with Paul and slept with someone else.

Ignoring that, I went to pull on some sweats and I hadn't done laundry in so long the only t-shirt I had was a big blush pink one that was probably Paul's. I wasn't sure but I didn't really care, I'd been sleeping in it for a few days now, it wasn't like it smelled like him anymore.

: : :

I had to tell my dad, I convinced myself after my classes were over, my phone ringing just as I thought of him and I wondered if he could tell that I was going through so much. Maybe he was calling to check in and I could tell him that I wasn't okay, that my life was falling apart. I could tell him.

He's my dad, he cares about me.

"Hey Dad." I'd spoken upon answering, his voice loud and containing a smile.

"J!" He was excited and I wasn't sure what for but it was good to hear his voice, the only time we'd talked in the past week had been after my class a few days prior and he'd been so busy at work, he'd rushed off the phone with a promise to call later. He didn't.

But now he was so chipper and I was so grateful to hear it. "How are you?" He's asked, always did and for the first time in a long time I wanted to tell him the truth.

"Actually, I-"

Cutting myself off when I heard another voice on the phone, I realized he wasn't alone. "What?" My dad's voice sounded away from the phone and he was laughing. I wondered who it was, him answering soon after. "yeah, Jade, I'm about to tell him."

"What were you saying?" He'd asked when he was back on the phone, his voice still joyous but now it had a hint of hesitance.

That wasn't important anymore. "Tell me what?"

It was silent for a beat and when he came back, he seemed to be dancing around the questions. "So, you know Andria and her son Kenan?"

Of course I knew them.

"Yeah?" I'd met them a few times, she was dating my dad and every once in a while whenever I visited, we'd all have dinner at the house. She was a fantastic cook and a very pretty woman with dark skin, big curly hair, and almond shaped eyes, her son no older than ten.

She seemed to make him happy and I didn't mind it if we were being honest, I liked that he found some happiness, even if it came with a little self-hate on my part.

And he spoke again, drawing it out longer than need be. "Well, they moved in a little while ago and I was thinking..." he'd paused for a second and then his voice resurfaced, a little quieter, "why not make it official, you know?"

"What?" When did they move in?

And he coughed before explaining, "I -uh- I asked her to marry me."

That was funny. My dad had always been terrible at making jokes but in this second, he seemed fucking hilarious. He just met the woman, he didn't even tell me she moved in and now they were getting married? What kind of money-hungry gold-digger could she be?

"Why are you laughing?"

And I tried to stop, tried not to sound like as much of an asshole as I was because his voice was deflated, excitement replaced with confusion. "You've only known her for like six months, dad."

That must've upset him because he was quick to defend it. "We clerked together when I graduated law school, Julian, I've known her for years." And that was news to me, he hadn't told me anything about her really so how was I supposed to know that? "I've only loved her for six months."

"And after six months you're gonna marry her, do you see how crazy that sounds?" It was like he couldn't wait any longer and that was probably my fault, had a lot to do with my own personal affect on his love life and I was probably supposed to feel guilty but all I felt was anger.

"I love her, J."

"And when she leaves just like mom, what're you gonna do?" And that was harsh, I could tell when it left my mouth but I didn't care. He needed someone to tell him the truth. "You're gonna cry in your room again, alone, and have Jade pick up the fucking pieces."

"Julian!"

He was just gonna ask her to marry him without thinking about how it would affect this family? Everyone took it so hard when Loraine left and he was willing to put Jade through that again? "You're so selfish." It was laughable.

"Do not talk to me like that!" His voice was stern and normally, I would have cowered but with all the shit that was piling up, it was so easy to just take it out on him without realizing. "I don't know what the hell is getting into you!"

Maybe the fact that I feel like fucking shit and everybody else has so many goddamn problems? I should be happy? I know that!

I was already having a shitty day and you call me with this? How can you believe I'd be happy about it?

And it was silent for a little while, my eyes blinking closed and I didn't want to cry but everything was falling apart, everything. I couldn't do this anymore. "Have you been taking your pills?" He'd asked, "Everyday, Jules."

And that was my trigger, it always was. It implied that I couldn't take care of myself and I hated it. "Stop asking me if I'm taking my medication! Everybody keeps fucking asking me that! I can't have a bad day without someone telling me I need to be hooked on drugs for the rest of my life to feel normal!"

In any other circumstance, he'd have cussed me out for cussing at him, would've hung up after telling me to get my shit together but I could feel the concern because my voice was shaky and I could feel tears rolling down my face. I needed him and he was marrying into a whole new fucking family.

"You're not acting like you." His voice was softer now and he knew. "J."

"I gotta go." I'm sorry.

"Julian-"

Fuck. I couldn't catch my breath, it was like I couldn't remember how to not feel like this, depression had crept up on me and this time I forgot to turn around. I forgot how to pull myself out before I fell and there was no one around to even notice.

Trying to calm myself down didn't prove much help, not when everything that set me off was still swarming around in my head, my mother the main topic. I tried to think of a time where I hadn't felt like this. I tried to resort to sadness but rage over my own self was pulling further on me.

I was angry, more angry than I had been in a while.

Blowing out a harsh breath, I raked my hands over my face. Fuck.

I can't believe he'd really do this.

I thought about family nights, thought about when they were happy but every thought of her choosing church over us was heavier. I pushed her so far away and she left us all, she didn't care about family dinners or game nights at the church or holidays anymore because I pushed so fucking hard.

MY dad wasn't happy and he had to settle for putting a ring on a finger he barely knew.

Trying to regulate my breathing proved difficult and by then I'd been too far, the memories of how messy the divorce had been, how much it had fucked him up, how no matter how much he said I didn't do anything wrong, I knew it was my fault. I screwed up one marriage so now he didn't even want me to know his new girlfriend.

I'd only heard of Andria a few times, I'd known they'd been dating but he'd only started seeing her months ago and now he was marrying her? He was making a lifetime fucking commitment to some woman he'd just fucking met and it was all my fault.

I ruined his damn life and now he was getting back at me.

He didn't care, he didn't care about me or the problems I was prepared to tell him about, he would be too busy building a new life and having a new kid that wouldn't mess up.

And that thought hurt more than anything else, set me off more than the grades and the breakup and the new boyfriend and the drinking and I was holding onto the edge of my desk, trying to keep myself grounded. I was such a fuck up.

I could feel rage pressing down on my chest and not letting up despite the cries and I wanted to scream, to fuck shit up, to break something. With flared nostrils, I gripped my phone tightly before throwing it mindlessly and my hands were shaking so bad. Self doubt crept up to a ringing in my ears and I wasn't sure anymore what I was feeling.

Who the fuck was he to tell me that I wasn't being myself when he hadn't been here? He didn't know who I was anymore.

The anger was what started the chain reaction, me standing up and grabbing my textbook, throwing it too, my notebook next and with shaking hands, I ripped out every page I'd written about my ex-boyfriend. I was so fucking pathetic to still be writing about him, what the hell was wrong with me?

He doesn't fucking love you anymore.

My breathing was harsh, my eyes blurry and I couldn't even hear myself crying anymore, didn't realize what I was doing until I'd been sitting down on the floor amongst the catastrophe. Blinking back tears, I looked around, catching sight of all the crumbled pages around me, the books that I'd have to pay for, the fucking damage I'd done.

There was a hole in the wall above my desk, blood on my knuckles and my bedpost and I was sure my other hand was fucked too. I had fire in my throat and I wasn't sure how I didn't feel it before but the pain was becoming unbearable and it was all over. I was sobbing into my knees trying to catch my breath, my head throbbing as well as my chest.

I can't do this. I can't do this anymore.

Gritting my teeth, I was trying to find a reason not to just do it already, I'd been holding off for so long and things still hadn't been better. They said everything was supposed to be better, that I'd be okay eventually but when was eventually and how would I be okay? Every single time I was okay, I sabotaged it, I messed everything up.

I can't do this anymore.

I can't do the-the stress and the overflow of assignments and the mental health shit and the getting over Paul and my mom at the same fucking time. I can't lose my dad too, I can't get through that. I'm not strong enough to go through all this fucking pain and I'm tired. I was so fucking tired, I didn't even feel like I could stand up so I sat like that for hours.

Because if I stood up then, if I moved, I probably would have killed myself. I was so scared of that, so petrified and so damn alone. I had no one anymore because I ran them away, I made them leave and it was all my fault that they didn't wanna come back.

All of the friends Paul had introduced me to left when I hurt him, I distanced myself from all my friends and they didn't want anything to do with me anymore and I didn't have anyone in California. And it was all my damn fault.

I ruined everything.

And I couldn't fix it, I couldn't fix it, I couldn't fix it because the damage was already done. I ruined my parents and I ruined my relationship and I ruined my own life. If I failed out of college, I'd have to redo it and I missed practice again, I wasn't good enough for the team. I just wasn't good enough.

There was a bottle of pills in my drawer, I hadn't taken them in a while, maybe they were half-full.

I can't do this anymore.

And I was thinking about it, it was weighing heavy on me and it was almost resolved. I almost fixed it when the door open, my eyes still latched on the dresser drawer and when I looked away, the tears in my eyes streamed down again.

My roommate paused at the doorway and I could just tell he was assessing the room. And then, "Did you punch a hole in the wall? What the fuck?" He was angry because all the damage in our room would fall on both of us. "You realize you're gonna have to pay for that, right? You're gonna have to go to the RA and tell him you punched a fucking hole in the wall because I am not getting billed for it."

And it was reasonable anger but I didn't want to hear it. "Just leave me alone, Danny." My damn chest hurt and I was so fragile then, I still hadn't stood.

"You've been acting off, more than usual." And he was stepping closer, grabbing my bandaged hand and grimacing when I winced and pulled back. "You went to practice with that?" Danny hadn't seen me after my hospital visit, him opting to sleep over with the girl he'd been trying to get with, it wasn't all-that surprising that he got her though. He was so attractive and he knew it and I was so fucking jealous.

"I said leave me the fuck alone."

Maybe I could take my insomnia medication, put myself to sleep for a while, maybe forever.

And he did leave me alone, for a second as he went to change, we had practice in half an hour and I'd already missed two. "You coming to practice?" He'd voices once he was fully dressed, sometimes he'd run drills before practice to keep up as he'd fallen behind a few times already.

Danny was dedicated, another thing I was envious of- he intended on being great at what he was good at and it was so admirable. Being his friend really would've been good for me.

Laughing bitterly, I rolled my eyes, what the fuck was it to him? I obviously wasn't going to practice and it really had nothing to do with him, neither did my drinking or my missing classes or my destructive behavior, it wasn't going to fall on him, he didn't have to worry about that.

"You can't keep missing practices like this, after the fourth without a fucking note, you're done."

Shut up. "I know!"

He never took kindly to being yelled at, whenever coach did, I would watch Danny's jaw lock and he would nod curtly, not a fan of being patronized in front of the team. So when you yelled at him, he always yelled back. "You're already on thin ice, if you wanna be here, you might wanna get to practice tomorrow!"

"Jesus, just leave me the fuck alone!"

How many times did I have to say it? "I'm tryna help, man, you should be lucky somebody cares."

"I should be lucky?"

And he was laughing sardonically then when I stood up to look at him. I was so fucking tired of everyone telling me how I should react and how I should feel about things that didn't concern them. "That someone gives a shit about you when you don't even give a shit about yourself? Hell yeah-"

He wasn't anyone to judge, as if he'd forgotten the year before and how bad he spiraled. "I didn't say anything when you went on a pill bender last year and disappeared, did I?" I asked and I watched his jaw clench. Maybe I wanted him to be mad enough to fight me, to fuck me up. I deserved it.

Maybe if I talked extremely reckless, he wouldn't be able to help himself. "That your fucking mom had to bail you out of jail, I didn't say shit, it's not my place so don't lecture me about missing practice."

And he was staring me down, We we close now, he could've punched me at any moment and honestly, I was too tired to react. I wouldn't have done anything, would've let him beat me up. "JD, you're being real fucking disrespectful right now." He was livid, his hands moving up to shove me back by my chest and that was it for him. "Move."

"Stay outta my shit, Danny." Pussy. "Go drink your breakfast, get high, smoke your fucking life away, I don't give a fuck just get the hell outta my business."

: : :

I'd missed practice and instead invited my roommate's brother over. I thought about Wren, maybe actually taking him up on that friendship because truly, I was lonely, but I decided against it. I wasn't ready to even admit that I needed company to myself.

But Ernest was company, he was in it for the same reasons I was.

"You sell E, right?" Ernest was sitting on my bed, his phone in his hand as I closed the door. Tugging my shirt off, I walked towards him, hoping my voice didn't give away that I'd never bought drugs before. I'd been reading up on ecstasy and it seemed cool. I needed a little euphoria to distract me from everything going wrong in my life.

My dad was getting fucking married... I was sure no sex could be that good.

I didn't even want to think about practice, about what a blow up like that would cost me, I didn't care anymore. I was so tired.

Ernest had nodded, electrifying blue eyes staring up at me and then, he directed his gaze down my torso. "Yeah." Licking his lips, he questioned my motives. "10 a pill, why?"

And nothing about him was attractive except his eyes, they were pretty and big on his below-average face. Ernest had a weird body as well, probably why he hid it under big clothing, he was like 5'9 and slightly barrel-chested, his body was compact in his odd frame and he dressed in clothes that looked like he popped out of an early-2000s garage band.

Flashing him a twenty, he nodded, shaggy brown hair shaking on top of his head as well and he went to fish a little baggie of about five pills out of the book bag he'd been carrying.

He'd handed me two, instantly I'd placed one on my tongue downing it with a water bottle I'd had on the side of my bed. Going to sit beside the older of the Veda brothers, I'd closed my eyes just waiting for it to kick in.

Maybe fucking while high on ecstasy would be exhilarating, maybe I'd feel something more than this empty fucking feeling. I was just thankful he'd came over like he said he would, that he was there because even if he wasn't the best company, I wasn't selfish enough to do anything to myself in front of someone.

I got all of twenty seconds of silence before he was talking.

"Danny said you punched a hole in the wall." He'd offered and I wasn't sure what it was with all my fucks trying to care about my health and shit but it was getting really fucking annoying. And Danny had no right to talk to anyone about my shit. "You good?"

His eyes were on me bright blue and he was holding out his dab pen for me.

"Mhm." I'd answered taking a small rip, not knowing how it would affect the ecstasy but honestly, I didn't care. The higher I got, the better.

"You don't look it."

Ignoring that, I took another rip - this one a bit too hard- instantly grabbing for my water bottle when I started coughing. I was sure I looked terrible, I'd sat in the back of my lecture that day, migraine preventing me from focusing. My eyes were bloodshot still from all the crying I'd done and I was in sweatpants and slides with a big tee shirt that I'd been wearing for about three days.

I looked disgusting and my hair was greasy, my skin had been acting up from my shitty sleep schedule, Ernest didn't have to mention it again.

But even with me looking bad, he didn't look the best either so who was he to judge? He couldn't tell me that I looked bad when he wasn't even cute on a good day.

Leaning over, I went to kiss a spot on his neck, hoping it would stop him from talking to me. I didn't want to talk, never did and it's like no one understood that. Ernest responded easily, always did leaning his head back so I could catch onto more skin and I didn't even care if I were marking him.

I placed another kiss on the freckle on his jaw, moving upwards to his lips and by then, I'd straddled him. Sitting down in his lap, I had my hands in his hair, pressing him closer and he tasted like a blunt wrap and mint gum. I didn't mind.

We were kissing then and I could tell he wasn't that into it but honestly, neither was I. His hands were still slipping into the waistband of my sweats though and he was kissing me back, his lips weren't ideal, they were small and he didn't really know how to kiss -why we never really did.

But he was into kissing now more than he seemed to be in the past, at least into taking it a little slow and if he didn't object, I wouldn't either. I was taking more control of the kiss, his tongue violating my mouth in a way that wasn't the least attractive but his hands were on my hips now, moving them and I helped.

Rocking my body on his, we built up a little rhythm and the friction was good enough for me to get into it, breaking away to pull his shirt off myself and I could feel myself hardening just a bit.

"Dude, you don't seem okay." He'd said once I'd pulled away, blue eyes looking up into mine and he had a laugh in his voice, his eyes red and I wasn't sure how much he'd smoked prior to coming over but his movements were slow when he leant forward to kiss my chest.

"I'm fine just shut up."

I wasn't even hard but it didn't matter all that much, I knew he'd came here for a reason and it wasn't to sell me pills. Maybe fucking would clear my head, maybe it would help a bit so I stepped off my bed onto shaky legs, not paying attention to the look he was giving me until my pants were off and I was leaning back onto my bed.

"Julian." He'd said, hand on my chest when I went to kiss him again, pulling his pants down. Maybe if I sucked him off he'd stop fucking talking.

But he was tilting his head at me with a amused smirk on his face and he was lowering his hand to grab his shirt. With a laugh, he went to pull it on and I'd never felt less desirable.

"So, you don't wanna fuck?"

And Ernest was laughing now, he was laughing at me and it made me feel worse than I already did. "Not when you look cracked the fuck out." Getting off my bed, he finished pulling his shirt back down, pulling his pants back up and then he was just standing there with his arms crossed like a disappointed fucking father. "I shouldn't have given you that."

But he'd already come over and gotten here and now he was just- what? Leaving? "You can top." I'd offered, sitting on the edge of my bed and my fingertips were dancing along his waist, it almost vibrating with each touch. My skin was warming up more than usual, the drugs starting to hit at the same time.

And Ernest was laughing at me, I was sure I looked stupid, staring at my fingertips when he pulled away.

"Yo, get off me."

"Go then." And I was ready for him to leave now, I wasn't sure why that set me off but Ernest was acting like he was repulsed by me and I was offended. "Leave." My voice was hard and he was laughing in my face now, that pissed me off.

"You can give your addict brother pills but you're what? Cutting me off?" And it was low, it was, his jaw clenching.

Hit me.

"You can afford that?" I'd laughed and my body almost felt too hot for comfort, my heart racing a little. I couldn't stop the words from spilling but I meant them, I was sick of them acting like they knew me more than I did.

Leaning back on my bed, I watched as he picked up his book bag and I could see the deliberation behind his eyes, he was weighing whether or not he was mad enough to hit me and I helped him.

"Your dick's small anyways, Ernie." Hit me.

But he wouldn't and I decided then that he was a better person than me, everyone was. He simply stepped back, "Fuck you, man."

"You want to." And that was an offer in itself, a last resort, hoping he'd just fuck me already. The voice in the back of my head reminded me that I drove yet another person away, even if he wasn't important to me anyways.

And Ernest smiled sadly then, I was sure it was a look of understanding, he could see how low I was and he seemed like he could relate and for a brief second, I thought he would come back.

Hoped he would come back, hoped he could see just how much I didn't want to be by myself at that moment and he probably did but he didn't give any inclination towards it. He just bit his lip, sighing before opening my door. "Seriously, get help." That was all he said before leaving.

This is why Paul left, I took all my anger on myself out on him. I was a shitty boyfriend and a shitty person and I didn't deserve even a small semblance of happiness, that was why my mom left, wasn't it? I was disgusting and horrible and I drove everyone away and my dad didn't want to deal with it anymore.

That's why he's marrying her, he'd moving on from all the hurt I fucking caused him.

Honestly, I should've just ended it the first time, then he could've gotten back together with the woman he'd been married to for twenty years. Maybe then I wouldn't have been such a disappointment just the dead kid that knew how little he was worth.

"I can't do this anymore."

I should've just killed myself then, saved everyone the heartache.

A/N:

This chapter was 8k words before I split it up, heartsss.

Updated: Monday, August 5th.