CHAPTER 3
The cigarette in my hand tasted bitter, though it was perhaps caused by the bitter turmoil I was experiencing. Life had gotten more complicated then it should be. Love was simple. Its what they teach us as children, that you'll know when you found the one. Another delusioned dream taught to us by a broken system that can't even keep modern families together. I part my lips, letting the smoke exhale in a wispy mist that hangs around me like a personal doom cloud. I was sitting on the back steps of the dorm, door propped open with the tip of my shoe, waiting for the alarm to go off just for the scolding. I needed something to remind me that I was alive and this wasn't some horrific dream of a sleeping conscious. I couldn't fool myself like that. Logic is cold and cruel and slowly it creeps in where its not wanted.
Part of me wanted to be happy. Part of me wanted them to suffer. Maybe its because I was suffering. Suffocating in a relationship I was struggling to keep for all the wrong reasons. Looking back now, I can see I was scared. Wanting to latch on to anyone who would offer me safe haven from myself. I was on a crash course with disaster and no one could save me since I couldn't even save myself. Jon and Joyce were dating. I found out through the proverbial grapevine. I shouldn't have been surprised and yet I felt a pang of anger lance my heart. Bloody b*****d. What could she possibly possess that I didn't, save for an irritating array of happy sayings and peppy pick me up's.
I shouldn't care, but I do. The gloom settled more in around me as I ran my thumb over the wheel of the lighter, sparking another flame to the end of the black casing of my cigarette. This was my fourth one today. It seemed your only friends came in a pack when depression came a'callin. The flame went out with a flicker and I just stared at it for a moment before a hint of smoke grew from the barely glowing tip of the cancer stick. I glowered at it, willing it to go out but under the strength of my gaze, the embers grow and I inhaled the scent of the cloves into my mouth as my eyes closed.
You know you're in a bad mood when even the things that will some day kill you don't want to piss you off. I laughed, mockingly, at myself for thinking that my cigarette cared about my mood. Im pretty sure no one did. I'd been walking around in a haze for days, eyes lowered to the ground and shoulders hunched like the weight of the world sat upon them but it was just the weight of my own self-righteousness. I had no reason to be on my high horse and yet I sat there, contemptuously glaring down at those around me. What a hypocrite I was, but as long as I kept lying to myself it didn't matter.
It didn't take me long after that night with Jon to realize that you can't please everyone, so right now Im living by the philosophy of please none. Tell them what they want to hear, pleasant lies to sooth the soiled soul. Its how I felt as I paid lip service to the fact that I hadn't seen Jon since the night Jarred and I fought. Somewhere inside of me, I laughed. A cold, cynical, sarcastically jarring sound. The sound of Pink Floyd's The Wall blaring from my messenger bag broke through my reverie and suddenly I was digging through the compartments wondering where the hell I'd thrown the damn thing before realizing it was vibrating in my pants pocket. I answered it rather crankily.
"Hello," I spit into the phone vehemently. The person at the other end seemed taken back by the tone of voice and I quickly apologized. "Oh, sorry Jarred. I didn't mean to snap at you." The tone quickly turned sugary sweet. He was the last person I really wanted to talk to but it looked like I wasn't going to be given a choice. We fought again last night, though Im not sure why Im still surprised. All we did was fight. And they were stupid fights. Things rational people wouldn't fight about. I guess it might hinder the fact that Im a completely irrational person. When Im upset or angry I pick fights with people, looking for a reason or an excuse to unload whatever negative feeling I was storing up. I can't just dispel negativity the way some people could and it builds up inside until I have to get rid of it, or kill someone.
I listened to him talk for a few minutes and I could feel the agitation growing without reason. He was just annoying me. It had been happening with recurring frequency lately and I couldn't explain why. I wasn't sure I cared enough to discover why either. It all just seemed like a waste of time. The entire relationship anymore, and yet I was simply to stubborn to give up on it. Why? I couldn't answer that for the life of me.
After while, I began to mimic his words with my hands, turning them into crude puppets that brought ungracious laughter to my lips. It was hard to hide, though i knew he would be upset if he thought I was laughing at him, which technically...I wasn't. Technicality was a moot point with him and I knew even as I did it, that he would be upset with me whether or not I had a good reason, so I just figured I might as well enjoy myself before the inevitable blowup.
It came sooner then expected and with fiery Armageddon arriving, I simply gave a resigned sigh and called upon the trusty steeds of misappropriated anger and distrust. The dance begins anew, each new twist a stumbling block to overcome and triumph, glory coming in the spent voice in which he'd apologize. Defeat came with tears and sniffles, sobs and broken apologies for something I could care less about doing in the first place. It had become a game to me. I had stopped taking life to seriously and began to treat the entire thing like it was some cosmic joke that the universe was playing on me. That, or I had seriously pissed off Karma and her revenge was cruel and unnecessary to her hapless victim. I liked the idea of a joke better, it was easier to swallow then thinking Id managed to bring this upon myself.
Fifteen minutes I was free and unhindered by a telephone pressed to my ear, but my penance was the tear tracks that danced down along my cheeks, wetting them with their shameful presence. Jarred 5, me...losing my sanity. Sounded about right anymore. I wasn't sure where my mind continually wandered off to, though I had a vague and depressing idea where I could find it. Canoodling with Jon's somewhere in the perpetual gutter. Vacantly, I rub my temples where I can feel a vague throbbing begin and I knew what it was the moment I felt the bile rise up in my throat. s**t! Migraine. The last thing I needed tonight when there was supposed to company camped out in our room for movie night. Kill me now, oh cosmic universe before this joke becomes any more twisted.
The problem was, could I really bad mad at the entirety of existence? Maybe not but I'd sure as hell try for the sanctity of my well being. ******** the rest of humanity, they failed to be as important as me and my ambition. I could get away with saying that. I was already screwed over by the universe so might as well take on Karma and goodwill. Seems we already had a love/hate relationship that I wouldn't mind messing with. I might as well, since Im already bending over and taking it up the a** from the world in general.
The pressure increased and I went down, head in hands as I dry heaved. This, like my fights with Jarred, was happening with recurring frequency. Idly, I wondered if the two of them might be connected before a jabbing pain in my left eye prevented me from thinking much of anything save for the intensity of the feeling. I stood up, shaking and trembling, weaving back and forth even though i was standing still and took a few shuddering breaths that threatened to come up with something else if I wasn't careful. The room looked so far away, though it was less then twenty feet from where I stood.
I hiccuped a sob and took a step forward, the movement jarring my body and sending a jolt of pressure to the writhing mass that was my brain. I groaned, hand covering my mouth, and forced myself to take another step. When that went over worse then the previous step, and the one after that even worse, I knew that I needed to stop moving...or crawl. If I stayed there, I didn't know how long it would be before someone stumbled upon me with an offer of help and so, with grave reluctance, I began to crawl forward on agonizingly painful shuffle at a time.
By the time I reached my own door, I was in tears that only made the intensity of the migraine worse. I was barely able to stand, hand shaking so hard I missed the door handle twice before I was able to get a slippery grip on it and twist it open. I was more the lucky that I had a bottle of Vicodin open and already on my desk and I fumbled to get two of the white pills into the palm of my hand where I knew I wouldn't drop them before gobbling them down hastily.
Insta miracle cure! Or curse. Depends on how many I had to take to knock me out and rid myself of the throbbing pressure that felt like it was making my eyeballs pop each time I blinked. I didn't even make it into bed before I was passed out on the plush cerulean carpet, head cradled on my arms in a state of semi-undress. Company would find me like that later, and Jon in another rare display of tenderness (and when he thought no one was looking) would hoist me into bed and finish undressing me before tucking me in. He'd deny it the next day and we'd both pretend I actually made it to the disarray that was my sleeping space.
