"Muah."

Stells kissed my cheek, leaving a sloppy deep purple stain behind.  That was her color this month.  Everything she bought or wore had to be purple. Last month was teal. She spent a few thousand dollars decorating her body in teal what-nots until she saw a pretty lavender night flower on the TV and decided it was time to change it up. Stells' fashion choices changed quicker than my moods.

I batted the loopy girl away when she went in to try to place a matching mark on the other cheek.  Stells was always handsy with me when she got a little alcohol in her.  It was kind of sad; the closest thing I got to action anymore was when my wacky drunk roommate got a little loose at the club.

Knowing her normal nightly routine, Stells would spend the next four hours trying to convince me to give girls a try. She would offer to help coach me and be my wing woman. She was convinced I should switch it up for a bit since I had such a terrible relationship history with men. It wasn't that she thought men were evil; she just thought I needed to try something new to break me out of my rut.

Stells was the most caring and honest person I knew.  She was confident, funny, and extremely open when it came to love. In her eyes, it didn't matter what gender you were, what your ethnicity was, what religious beliefs you had, or even how you identified yourself.  Stells loved people for who they were regardless of how society labeled them. Her character was admirable. If everyone in the world was like her, it would be a far better place. There was not one judgmental bone in her body.

Stells' complete openness and honesty got her in trouble with the media frequently, especially when it came to her more unconventional relationships.  The gossip pages liked to link her to as many men and women as possible to run her name through the mud. Most of what they said about her was total bullshit. Sometimes they snuck in enough truth to make the stories seem credible, but they were also really good at making a random picture into something it wasn't. She had lost a lot of good people in her life over the false rumors about her.

After two years in the spotlight, I could finally sympathize with her.  My name had been out in the tabloids more and more every week that passed. I was so angry at first, but I found humor now in the false information and wild accusations.

The most hilarious example of tabloid fabrication recently were the photos that began circulating of Sven and me.  Sven was Stells' older brother.  We were just good friends who happened to live together.  The media liked him because he was the stereotypical hot, white-blonde Scandinavian man. He was a big sexy Viking who wore way too much leather when we went out to the clubs. Our innocent friendship somehow magically developed into a headline story about us being involved in a toxic, possessive relationship.  The media even reported he was keeping me prisoner and would not let me contact my family.

It was ludicrous. Even my mom, who I spoke to everyday, laughed about the rumors. Sven was as gentle as kitten, unless you messed with someone he cared about. That was where he drew the line.

Contrary to the rumors, Sven didn't hold me hostage and didn't have any interest in me that way. I had no interest in him either. After everything I had been through, I decided I was never going to have sex again, except for my own self-induced pleasure. My hand could never hurt me emotionally and I had been in enough pain for a lifetime. Even if I decided I was brave enough to try to be with someone again someday, in the way, way distant future, I lacked the proper accessory to turn Sven on.  A relationship between us would never work.

I had a peach and Sven was hungry for hot dogs. 

I loved my roommates like they were my family. Sven and Stells were wild, carefree, and passionate about life.  They were amazing company and fun to hang out with. Sure, they liked to drink, but they never tried to pressure me into it too much. Only on a few occasions did I have to remind them of my sobriety. They were also anti-party drugs.  Most importantly, they were pro-Jessa and my mental health.  They supported my decisions and even helped keep me on the right path with my medications when I would stumble. 

The people who looked like they would be the worst possible influences were actually one of the best things that had ever happened to me.  Well, besides the golden-haired boy that I still thought about every second of every day. 

It was terrible. I was still holding onto Cameron after not seeing or speaking to him for two years.  I should have given him up a long time ago for my own sanity.  I asked him to move on when there was no way I could ever do it myself.

Cameron Nash stole my heart and had never given it back.

I knew Cameron was probably better off since I left. I spent hours upon hours secretly hunting the Ohio newspaper ads online, looking for any type of engagement announcement or maybe even a birth announcement.  I never found anything and my family never gave me very much when I asked about him. Cameron had blocked me on social media and switched all his accounts to private the day I left so I couldn't snoop the usual way everyone else did.  I was stuck relying on word of mouth and the internet.  Unfortunately for me, Cameron had no internet footprint now.  It was like he vanished from the world.

My stomach dropped thinking about how perfect his life probably was now.  I was not sure why I always did this to myself at such inappropriate times.  I should be out here having the time of my life like I always dreamt about. Instead, I was sitting frumpily on a sticky black velvet couch, contemplating every choice I had ever made in my life up to this point.

"Being a sober, regulated adult is fun." Good Jessa said enthusiastically with two sarcastic thumbs up.  Even she was getting bored with my choice of lifestyle.

I was getting to the age when settling down and starting a family was the next logical step in the natural progression of life.  It was a biological urge I had been fighting against for the last six months. The problem was that my doctors had told me my whole life that having a family naturally was probably not in my future because I would have to go off my meds to do it.  I was really young when I found out and never even really thought I ever wanted kids.  I shouldn't want to pass these genes on to anyone else to suffer with.

This condition should end with me. It was the responsible thing to do.

That irrational urge inside me always brought thoughts of Cameron to the forefront of my mind. Cameron was made to be a husband and father.  He was patient and kind without being pushy. He knew how to make all the bad in the world disappear. He was a good man with a good heart. Well, until I sunk my teeth into him and ripped his world apart.

Dreaming every night about what our lives could have been together if I was normal was what made me ultimately decide to stay gone for good. About a year ago, I almost went to beg Cameron to take me back, but I chickened out after waging a war inside myself. I was literally at the gate about to board a plane back to Ohio. I had my bags packed and my ticket in hand.  When the attendant called for me next, my anxiety over seeing him again spilled out. I began shaking and ugly crying as she stood there in shock. I ran away from her as fast as I could with my rolling suitcase trailing behind me.

I couldn't do it; I couldn't ruin his life. I wanted to give Cameron everything he could ever dream of, but I couldn't because of my condition. It broke my heart to realize being with me would hold him back. I didn't want him to hate me twenty years down the road because I was the reason his life was never fulfilled.

Cameron Nash deserved way more than this bipolar, combative, ex-pill head could give him.

"Jess, you are so serious tonight,"  Sven said in his thick Norwegian accent. He planted a kiss on the guy sitting next to him with silvery hair and thick black lined eyes.  Sven definitely gravitated to the boys in guyliner.  He had good taste though, the guy sitting next to him was mouthwatering.  Good for Sven; at least one of us was going to be a little less lonely tonight.

"I'm not serious. I'm just thinking."  I yelled across the noise. 

I ran my finger underneath the black choker covering the scar on my neck.  The choker was brand new and irritating my sensitive skin. I would rip it off right now if it wasn't for the cameras and prying eyes looking in the VIP lounge every time they passed by. The scar was ugly and every time it was on display, I could see people staring at it and whispering. After the first tabloid picture came out with the hideous thing exposed, I found different ways to cover it in public.  The rational side of my brain knew that I shouldn't be embarrassed by it, but the insecure girl inside me still existed. She was ashamed of her flaws and she had so many to hide.

I tried to open my mouth to call out to Sven again. He motioned to his ear like he couldn't hear me and then began dancing on the couch with his plaything. I rolled my eyes and went back into my head as I was happily ignored by all the larger-than-life personalities around me. 

Some random guy that came back with Stells the last time she went to dance squirmed his way between her and me on the couch.  He hooked his arm around her and did the same to me.  I pushed his arm off me and stood up to move away from him.  I had no idea who this guy was and I wasn't in the mood to be bothered.  Thinking about home had really dampened my spirits.  I had enough excitement for the night.

"Stells, I'm going to take off,"  I said. The guy was blocking her from me and I had to lean over him to get closer to her so she could hear me. 

"You want Bruns or Sinclair to go with you?"  She motioned to her two guards with steely sour looking faces. She brought them with her every time we went out to the club for extra security.  I may have a little fame, but it wasn't near her level, so I didn't understand the need for them.

Some days I could go places without getting noticed still.  I was hoping this would be one of those nights.  I wanted to go home and write a little bit.  I had been itching to put my hands on my grandpa's acoustic all day. The record label was pressuring me to cut another album and I had been avoiding writing anything new for weeks. My guitars had been sitting in the corner of our townhouse staring at me while I struggled with my stress-induced writer's block.

"No, you keep the boys.  I think you'll need them."  I smiled down at her. 

I felt a hand latch onto my butt as I attempted to lean down to hug her goodnight.  When I turned around, the guy who had his arm around me earlier was kneading my ass cheek like he was trying to milk a cow teat on a dairy farm. He yanked my arm back hard and I landed on his lap. He tried to press his lips to my face as I struggled to push him away.

I was getting too old for this shit.