Bittersweet Revelation
Part twelve

Shadows are fallin’ over town
Another night and these blues got me down
Oh’ misery, I sure could use some company
Since she’s been gone, I ain’t  been the same
I carry the weight like an old ball and chain
Guess it’s all meant to be
For love to cause me this misery

JC’s POV

I look around myself and really don’t recognize any of my surroundings. It seems having everything isn’t really everything. I tried to remember when and where my life took such a drastic turn like this but I cannot go back and place a finger on the specific moment. It seemed one second I was happy, I was working my ass off to put my music back out there, something people had been begging me to do for that last damn how many years and I told myself that if I committed to this, that I was going to do it right. And by doing so, that meant fighting for the things I knew would be like pulling teeth. Perfectionist, perfectionist. That’s always what I’ve been known for. So fucking be it. I’ll be forever asking myself if it was all really worth it in the end.

I know I need a shower right now but I really don’t give a shit. I’m in this funk, completely confused and not knowing which was is left or right. I’ve been drinking, yes- alcohol is the one thing that makes sense to me these days. It numbs the confusion, the hurt, the pain, hell- it makes life better. I thought I had a grasp on things and that I had the slightest bit of direction in my life but I feel as though someone slid the rug out from under me. It’s a bittersweet thing,  this life we live.

 I’ve tried to make light of things, tried to find some sense of it all but I can’t. I thought all I needed was a little bit of soul searching but in the end, I came out empty handed. I seriously want to crawl into a whole right now. It just seems one hundred times better. You’re probably thinking that I’ve lost this sense of being the mature, responsible one but right now, I could really give a shit less. Right now, I hurt and I’m lost as fuck. My gosh, I haven’t cussed like a sailor in forever and I’m gonna say that it feels kind of nice.

I’m throwing out the rule book for once and doing things my way. I’m sitting here basking in my self pity, not having a clue what direction my life is going to go in. I don’t have any solitude for musical career and just like everything else, it blows massively.

I thought I had everything worked out, that Erin and I were slowly making progress but once the reality of it hit that she was carrying my child, I felt like the earth was spinning on it’s axis and I was about to fly off at any second. Who in the hell would make me a father? Do I even believe that it’s my child she’s carrying? Well, in all honesty-- yes I do. It doesn’t make this okay though. Yeah we always talked about having a child together but that was before she slept with my best friend. Why out of all the fucking people in this world did it have to be Justin? I’ve tried to sew all my wounds, pick my dead leaves and move on but I can’t. All I see when I think of them together is him touching in her in ways that only I’ve done before. It makes me want to vomit.

All hatred aside, I constantly ask myself if I would be a good father? This child will be born into a world of cluster fuck, with drama that I know will never fully leave our lives. How is that fair? Is it fair that this child will have a father that probably won’t be around 90% of time? I just can’t see myself settling down, trying to pretend I’m not really hurt by all this, and love the baby and Erin as if we were some picket fence, happy go lucky family, because we sure as hell aren’t. I don’t’ know if I ever indent to marry Erin or if I can even see myself being with her again. All drama aside, I’m still hurting. I don’t want to use this child as an excuse to over look what really happened, no matter how many people tell me to suck it up and be a man. I haven’t told my parents yet, in fear that I just don’t even know where to begin. This story comes with so much background detail, so much mistruths and wrong doings, so much hopeful forgiveness and possibilities that it’d be kind of a shocker to drop at the end, “Oh guess what, I’m going to be a father.”

Yeah fucking right.

I don’t see things ever being right with Justin again because no matter what happens, I’d always be looking over my shoulder and that’s no way to live. I believe Erin when she says that this was just a one time thing but a part of me has this nagging feeling that theirs more to it. I used to think of Justin as a pretty reasonable guy so something tells me he has his own side to this story. He’s never stuck me as the type to just ‘randomly screw his best friends girl.’ Damn, that tastes bitter on my tongue.

All I can say about this is shit, shit and more shit. When did my life get so screwed up? I wish I could rewind that last six months of my life and replay it in slow motion and take my steps as slow as gravity will let me. I’m trying to wonder where everything went wrong. Always sitting here wondering.

I cringe as I take a swish from the bottle as the brown liquid burns down my throat but once it settles, it feels good. Finally, something that makes sense. I know in a few more swigs that I’ll forget everything. I’ll forget about being screwed over, about being a horrible boyfriend and causing Erin’s cheating, about my best friend stabbing me smack dab in the middle of the back, about my ex girlfriend being pregnant with my child and being scared shitless about being a father, about everything. I really don’t want to deal with it. I don’t want to be a man and suck it up and face the harsh truths and take everything slowly and sort it out as I go. I just don’t have the energy.

I feel guilty enough as it is, seeing how I haven’t spoken to Erin since I dropped her off at home the day she was released from the hospital and that was almost two months ago. She knew I needed time, I just never specified how long. I still think about her, and I have my moments of wanting to see her. I wonder how the baby’s doing and if she gets sick all of the time like I know most pregnant women do. Part of me thinks I should be there or her but a part of me still hurts and I feel as though I have every right to be. After all, she screwed my best friend while she was carrying my baby. Sick, sick, sick. Stop this world because I really want to get off.

I stumble a little as I rise from the couch I was sitting on and curse to myself as I drop the bottle in my hands and spill some of the brown liquid on my white expensive carpet. Shit. Way to go Chasez. I stumble into my bathroom, leaning heavily against the marble sink and I take in my appearance and cringe at the reflection that greets me. I’ve grown about a week of stubble, my eyes are sunken in and dark circles lay beneath them, my always chiseled cheekbones as more defined because I really could care less about eating these days and my once well groomed hair has taken on a curly mind of it’s own. I look like hell.

Splashing some water across my face, I try to wake myself up, even if it’s just a little bit but just like I’d wished, I really didn’t feel anything. Good. The numbing was starting to take affect.  The feeling was becoming addicting. Maybe just a little bit longer and I’d start to forget everything.

I turn around, placing my hands on the handle of the door, trying to steady myself and continuing my journey towards my bedroom where I just want to crawl into my bed and dissolve. My eyes squint slightly, blinking as I try to make out the form laying in my bed. I don’t remember much about last night, if anything but I know I’d recognize a naked back facing me, half her body covered by a sheet. Soberness hits me like a ton of bricks and I know one thing and one thing only as my stomach churns. That naked back isn’t Erin’s. I feel the tears sting the back of my eyes and throat is slowly closing, the alcohol begging for me to let it free, and fast. Tell me that I didn’t just fuck up every possible chance of  ever fixing the broken pieces to my messed up life?  I think I’m going to be sick.