It's been three days. Three days of what, you ask? Three days of complete and total isolation. I shut my phone off, I took vacation from work, and I got a hotel in the next town over. I needed a break. I needed to have time to think about how I can take a normal situation and fuck it up beyond understanding. I needed to come to terms with myself.

I would like to say that my voyage back into town and into my real life was because I came to some sort of answer and am going to work on the problem that is me, but really it was just because I ran out of weed. How the hell are you supposed to take a vacation by yourself about fixing yourself without weed? Then you'd actually have to face yourself, right? I'm just not into that. I'm all about half assing things.

I thought my vacation away from everyone was voluntary. It wasn't until I got back to my apartment and turned on my phone that I realized it wasn't my choice at all. I did not have a single voicemail or text message from anyone while I was gone. It seemed more like people were taking a vacation away from me. 

I'm not sure what Taylor was upset with me about exactly, but it seems she was sticking to it. Although, and I really hate to admit it, I was honestly expecting some sort of contact from Justin. I wasn't looking forward to it, but I was definitely expecting it.

I stared at my phone until it no longer looked like a phone. I felt like poking it with a stick. It seemed purely mystical. Who has a phone that doesn't ring? Can you technically call it a phone at this point?

I wanted to vomit the entire bus ride to Taylor's work, but I went anyway. I feel like that's important. The only good thing about this was that people discharge body fluids on public transportation all the time, so in the event something other than words came out my mouth on this ride, I doubt anyone would notice much.

She was doing her version of bar tending when I walked in, which involved leaning over the counter showing as much cleavage as possible to her male patrons. She rolled her eyes when she saw me. This was going to be a good time.

"Can we talk?" I took a seat at the bar.

"How about you talk and I'll ignore you." She said as she walked to the other end of the bar. My head landed on the counter with a thud, but that wasn't loud enough to miss the whispers of the guys beside me who had previously been ogling Tay's chest. I obviously needed a way to make this up to her. I just wasn't sure what 'this' was. I don't even remember her being there that night, so I can't possibly understand how I offended her. All I know is that if I offended her this badly with no knowledge of it, I can only imagine how I treated Justin. And his date. Oh. My. God. His date. My life is a disaster. 

"My manager says if you're not going to order anything, then you have to leave." Taylor said snottily. She was standing in front of me again. 

"Your manager did not say that."

"You're right. I did." We were apparently locked in a staring contest.

"Fine. Give me whatever's on tap." I stared harder.

"I don't really think you need the calories." Her hands were on her hips. Her eyes were locked on mine. She was insulting my figure. This was apparently serious.

"I'll risk it."

"You really think you should be drinking after the other night?" I had to stifle a laugh. It was too ironic. Taylor Wyatt was really giving me a lecture about substance consumption? I bit the inside of my cheek, but refused to look away. I was going to win this. 

"Calories end at the end of the night. After that, you're allowed to have more."

"I meant because you acted like a fucking idiot."

"For fuck's sake, please just tell me what I did to you." I begged.

"Are you fucking serious?" She wasn't yelling yet, but I felt it coming on.

"I am."

"You had sex with Justin Timberlake and you didn't even tell me!" Now she was yelling. "Twice!" This was about her ego more than anything else, I realized, but egos are powerful things. It was starting to make a little bit of sense after being in the dark for so long.

"Taylor, I. . ."

"No! Fuck you, Lucy. Fuck. You." She says this from the other end of the bar. I was actually sort of relieved she interrupted me. Beyond her name, I had no idea what I was going to say. I'm not very good at apologies. I am especially not very good at apologies that I'm not sorry for.

However, this knowledge unveils a great point. Taylor knowing I slept with Justin must have meant I shared that with her. Knowing me intoxicated, I probably shared it with the entire bar that night, which mean the entire town should know by now. Which means that I have been fucked. And not only by Justin.

I wanted to be surprised that Taylor didn't notice I was gone for three days, but I could only process depression. I turned away from the bar to go home. Or maybe back to the hotel. I would most certainly need weed first with any option.

"Oh. Hi." I ran into a brunette girl who didn't look too familiar, but was staring at me regardless. 

"Hey." I tried to squeeze past her. I wanted to be alone in my misery. I wanted to be high.

"I didn't know about you and Justin." She spoke timidly. "He didn't tell me."

Fuck. 

The date. 

I froze mid step and turned back towards her. She looked truly apologetic, though I couldn't be sure for what. I assume if anyone needed to look scared out of her fucking mind, it was me.

"I just. . wanted you to know that." She cautiously and insecurely tucked her hair behind her ear. A good person would have told her that there was no me and Justin, but I couldn't get the words past my lips.

"Um. . Thanks." That's it. I fucking sucked. She nodded and turned to walk away. 

My life is an inside joke.

____________________________________________________________________

I feel low. I feel lower than low. But I also feel pretty damn high. I feel like jumping off of a building, but only because I'm sure that in this moment I could fly. Everything is a paradox right now. 

For the second time today, I am at a bar. Which means that, also for the second time today, I am in a place I shouldn't be. However, this time is different. This time is different because I came prepared. I did about six lines before I sat on this stool tonight, and for however long this lasts, I feel that this is a great decision. 

So what if I have alienated everyone I know in the world. I am alive. Life is great. And so what everyone I have alienated in the world is now contained in this mediocre, small bar currently alienating me. So. Fucking. What. I am still alive. Life is still great. 

Taylor is in the back surrounded by people who appear to be worshipping her. Typical. Justin is in the opposite corner looking aloof and unbothered. Obviously nothing changed while I was gone. I feel comforted by this fact. I feel like I can make everything okay. There is still hope. I can have my old life back. And when I get my old life back, I will not complain about it again. I will just be grateful to have a life again. And friends. Friends were nice.

I don't know how many shots I've had. The one thing everyone seems to know about cocaine is that when you're on it you can drink forever. You can also fuck forever, and more often then not, you feel like you can live forever.  After no less than five shots and no more than twelve, I decide to go to the bathroom to get one more line of courage before I approach any of my so-called friends who need approaching.

The bathroom is more crowded than the bar. There's no telling how long it will take to get a stall to myself. I may have to do this in my car. 

"You're a bitch, Lucy." I turn my head towards the feminine voice. It's a blonde girl who takes her eyeliner very, very seriously. She looks unfamiliar, but she knows my name. I don't respond.

"Leave her alone, girl." A brunette mumbles. This bathroom suddenly feels very big and I feel very small. A stall still hasn't opened and I feel very vulnerable with an eight-ball jammed recklessly in my pocket. I feel like they can see it and I feel like they're going to take it from me and I will never get to do my final line of the night. My hope is dwindling.

"Don't stick up for her. She ruined your date with Justin Timberlake." The blonde returned her attention to me, narrowing her eyes, "Then again, maybe I'd be a complete bitch too if my boyfriend cheated on me with my best friend."

Her smile had detached itself from her face and was now floating around my head. I heard laughing from all angles. 

I can't tell you the color of those bathroom walls before I heard this news, but all I see now is red.

The laughing never stopped. It followed me out of the bathroom. It followed me to the back of the bar. It followed me as I stood in front of Taylor. It overpowered my screams. I screamed harder and the laughing grew louder. This was all wrong. Everything was wrong.

I was on the floor. Taylor was on top of me, her hair balled in my fist. There was more than one pair of lips encircling me now. More people were laughing. The whole bar. The whole world. The red I was seeing might be blood now, but it was too difficult to tell.