Source: Unknown
I’ll admit I’m full of shit
That’s how I know I love you
That’s how I know I trust you,
You’re not sure if there’s a right or wrong
But it feels like there is
when I treat you like this
“My Heart Is An Apple” - Arcade Fire
Who the fuck do he think he is giving me an ultimatum? It was this simple: give up the drugs or lose our friendship.
Yeah, fucking right. He claimed that he was only doing what he thought was the last resort to ‘save’ me but what I didn’t understand is how the fuck was he going to judge me when just a few weeks ago, he was in my room snorting the coke right along with me. Yeah, what a motherfucking hypocrite.
And don’t get me started on his newfound interest in the fat Kennedy bitch - I’m still at a loss for words on that subject - I never truly vented my view for his admiration of the girl because for the first time, my best friend seemed truly happy to be in someone else’s presence besides my own; in a weird, delusional way…I’m happy for him.
I haven’t been completely sober since I was twenty years old; many would like to know what drove me to my personal destruction but those bitches can go fuck themselves because I don’t share my business with no one - my dirty laundry is my shit to keep to myself.
The thought of losing Trace hadn’t really sunk in until just a few weeks ago - my whole life this dumb ass man has been by my side - through my good times and at my worst…he’s been there; to lose him…I don’t even want to think of the possibilities of what I will succumb myself to if I didn’t have him in my life. I hated being pushed into a corner and forced to do anything that wasn’t my own decision - that’s exactly what Trace was doing, but I knew his ass was dead serious.
So, I made a personal battle with myself to try to stop - I never believed myself to be an addict, but of course the main people that think they can stop anytime they want are the ones most in denial…shit, I guess I was in denial because that first day of trying to stop had to be the hardest day of my life.
I couldn’t fucking think straight; my hands were shaking, lips quivering and I was seeing big ass yellow dots everywhere I seemed to look - I needed a hit so badly that all I could do was sleep that day. I didn’t call anyone. I didn’t even let Sara Jean come over so I could have an easy lay.
I was all fucked up in the head and in my soul but the important thing to get out of that is that I survived it; and when I did, I knew I could do it - I could easily get over this little hump in my life and better myself before I lost my best friend or anyone else that truly mattered to me.
But that still doesn’t change my attitude towards the fat girl - in my mind, I had to be civil towards her ass because it would only result in a conflict between Trace and I if I was rude to her - and that shit just wasn't going down. I didn’t like the girl, well I’m guessing that’s obvious but the reason why is still unclear to me.
I attacked her verbally and personally, that’s the worst way to hurt someone - to get to them emotionally can leave a scar on their soul that is not so easy to heal - trust me, I know. That day in the store when she ran into me, I acted out because I was high and fucking horny as hell but when I saw her - the only thing I noticed was her thick thighs and her huge breasts and I immediately lashed out on her but that wasn’t the reason I began to dislike her; it was the look in her eyes…she was afraid of me, terrified. And to see that I had that kind of power over someone didn’t do anything but boost my major sized ego.
To see fear is the last thing I expected from a Kennedy girl - that family was nothing but a clan of cocky bitches who looked back down to no one and I mean, no one; but Sadie? Her ass had to be adopted or something because she just didn’t fit in - how could she be so insecure of herself? I scoffed; I’d understand why…she’s big as hell and hideous to the point of making me want to vomit on her ugly ass.
Okay, maybe I do go too far with criticizing her on her appearance but when you’re a part of that family - a person should have high expectations for themselves; and clearly she does not.
When Trace announced to me that he was asking her out on a date with him, I remained mute the entire time; I had no words to say, well, I did, but they weren’t anything appropriate. Honestly, my ass had bigger issues on my hands - I was trying to focus my attention on anything but the needle so that’s why I asked my friend to bring my journal by my place.
Every relationship I’ve been in before my junkie years - I wrote lyrics about in that damn book - it was my sanctuary for so long and after the incident happened with Tyler - I wanted nothing more than to burn the shit. You’re probably curious as to who Tyler is and what exactly she means to me but get over it because that’s a chapter in my life that I haven’t opened up yet…not even to Trace or my own mother.
Writing had to be my distraction from the needle and the alcohol and also my dear friend, Mary Jane; I was terrified of putting the pen to the paper and trying to think of anything else but getting high and fucking but I needed to do this…I had to do it.
So now, let me just say as I’m escorting Trace out of my house and listening to him babble on about some stupid shit regarding his car, my body freezes and my eyes immediately find my mother and Sadie sitting on my couch in the living room, smiling at one another and in some sort of conversation.
My mother is one of the most friendliest women on the face of this planet - she’ll fucking welcome King Kong into her home if his big ass gave her a smile and a hug - no joke.
Her ass is just too damn nice.
Since seeing her at the club - the bitch looks more relaxed now and I feel a tinge of anger fill my veins because I truly do not want her fat ass in my house, sitting on my couch (well, technically its my mom’s but I fucking live here!), talking to my mother like she’s known her all of her life. It made me extremely uncomfortable and I remained quiet, choosing not to voice my opinion.
I just continued to stare at the girl, blankly and finally she noticed me looking to her and I caught her steal a glance at Trace beside me and she actually smiled - a chill went through my spine suddenly because I never truly seen her smile, at least not in my presence and when she did - it changed the whole structure of her features. Sadie’s fat ass actually looked decent.
Hell no, I wasn’t going to accept that notion. I could feel Trace watching me so I sighed softly and took a deep breath - time to put on a show. “Sadie.” I say now, stepping further into the room, I watched as she watched me in silence.
Is this bitch deaf? I choose to believe that she’s overcome with the sexiness that is me, so I choose to repeat myself - “Sadie.”
Her ass still sits as if she is at a loss of words and she continues to glance at Trace, which really irks me because I swear I’m the one who’s calling her attention, not the midget beside me. It is when my mother speaks to her that she finally fucking wakes herself up and stands from her position and moves to me.
I immediately glance at what she’s wearing - okay, glancing isn’t the right word, maybe I should use gawking or staring? Okay, whatever, moving on - this girl just keeps on surprising me on what she chooses to put her body in and the funny part of it is that when she wears clothes that show off her assets…she doesn’t look big, at all.
Surprising, huh? Yeah, my ass is fucking speechless. The night in the club I had resorted to explaining my actions with the girl by using the conclusion that it was too damn dark in that lame ass club for me to see who it truly was - but now, I had no excuses for what was going through my mind right now. I’ll admit this to myself only but with Sadie standing there - her hair down resting on her shoulders and her tanned legs exposed to the world, I had to say she was decent to the eye.
Shoot me, now, please. That’s why I couldn’t turn my eyes away from her - her legs were so damn toned and defined that I saw no sign of flab from extra fat; yes, her thighs were bigger than most females but I realized then, to my disbelief, that she wasn’t obese - her ass was what my mother called the ‘healthy’ type. A rush of guilt consumed my body then - my weeks of torturing her and violating her respect as woman that she so rightfully deserved were coming back to bite me in my skinny ass - she didn’t deserve my backlash, she didn’t deserve to doubt for one second that she was anything but what she believed herself to be.
I will admit I was wrong, so wrong - not that I’ll ever let her know truly how I feel about that; I just know when I’m wrong about something or someone, I can own up to it.
* * *
I couldn’t sit still - from the moment Trace and Sadie left, I had been in a daze - moving around the house like a fucking zombie, my thoughts lying on Sadie and how truly wrong I had been about her all along. If my mother adored her - that was enough to come to the conclusion that maybe after all, Sadie Kennedy wasn’t so bad - maybe it was just me.
I nodded my head - yeah, I knew it was me all along, I just used her as an excuse. But now, I’m curious as to why I can’t stop wondering what the fuck are those two doing - I’m pretty sure that Sadie hasn’t did much so I know my friend isn’t getting any but still…I feel like its my duty to know. Why? I don’t fucking know why.
My mother entered my room to see me pacing around my floor and she rolled her eyes, dramatically. “What the hell is wrong with your ass?” She steps further into the room and I glance up to her and squint my brows in confusion. “You’ve been moving around this damn house since Trace left like your ass is swollen or something of the other. What’s wrong, baby?”
I fold my arms in front of chest and lean against my dresser, sighing. “Promise to keep your mouth shut if I tell you this.”
My mother loves secrets - she aches to know the daily gossip and more importantly, she loves having me confide in her about things because she feels we have such a close bond that I can come to her concerning anything and everything - which is true. I purse my lips together and ponder on my thoughts because I am unsure of how I feel right now - I’m not jealous or anything (it’ll be a cold day in hell) my dumb ass just is so overwhelmed with guilt that all I can think to do is explain myself to Sadie.
Yes, I apologized to her, but I didn’t mean it, completely. I knew what I’ve done to her had been wrong but I just wanted to appease Trace and make him happy but after the fact - I came to the reasoning that any person deserved to be treated better than how I treated Sadie - I talked to her like she was beneath me, as if I was a better person than she.
How crazy is that?
She moves closer to me and cocks her head to the side, watching me closely, “You don’t even have to worry about it,” Her voice is soft, soothing - “What’s said between you and me is exactly where it will stay - between you and me, honey.”
She’s not bullshitting; if I ask my mother to remain mute about anything or nothing at all - she doesn’t hesitate, she’ll do whatever I ask because that’s the sort of person she is - she’s so full of love and no where near the essence of hatred.
I fucking can’t believe I’m thinking about all of this shit - why the fuck am I being so damn emotional all of sudden? I need to get laid - fuck not having any women around me, I just can’t do that; they’re my most addictive drug and I refuse to side with them for the sake of Trace or anyone for that matter of fact.
“All right, Ma.” I glance to the ground before me and I shuffle my feet, nervously. Why am I so fidgety? I don’t fucking know, okay? “I’m pretty sure you’ve heard ‘bout me and Sadie-”
“That you have been a total complete asshole to her?” She interjects me, quickly - her tone firm and harsh, all of the sudden.
My eyes immediately find hers because I’m taken back by her outburst - her light blue eyes are now threateningly dark which sends me in a panic because she only looks that way when she is about to strike. “Mommy…” I whisper softly, trying my best to convey the most innocent voice I can muster even though it only makes me come across as a teenage boy stuck in his puberty days.
So fucking awesome.
She waves me off, ignoring my pleading voice and placing one hand on her thin hip, “Yes, I’ve heard, Justin.” She shakes her head. “Don’t try that sad lost little boy look with me because I’m not falling for it.” My mother steps closer to me then, her index finger pointing in between my eyeballs and I stare at her perfectly manicured pink nail.
Just don’t hit me, please.
“Do you know how hard it is for me to go around town having everyone talk behind my back about my cocaine addicted son?” I say nothing and she groans inwardly - my heart aches then, something I haven’t been able to feel in such a long time because of the pills and of the dope. I remember why I started doing the shit in the first place - so that I wouldn’t feel any sort of emotion or pain. “But I defended you without a second thought ‘cause you’re my joy, Justin - you’re my joy and I won’t stand for no one disrespecting you in my presence. I just won’t tolerate it.” Her eyes are starting to water now and I want to hold her, calm her fears but I can’t - I haven’t done that shit in a long while and I just don’t know how, to be completely honest. “And then, I hear you’re attacking that young girl for no reason at all, Justin, no reason.” She brings her hand to the back of my head and smacks me, hard.
Damn! That shit hurt! Its like an automatic reflex because instantly my hand reaches the back of my head and I rub my closed wound - she did not have to do that shit. Just fuck! I chew on the inside of my mouth because I know if I say anything, she’ll do something worse…
Why has it been lately that every female I know finds physical abuse the answer when dealing with a guy like me? And people wonder why guys flip out on women the way we do - they fucking deserve the shit.
“Don’t your sorry behind start whining now, either!” I remain silent, continuing to rub my aching head now - I feel a headache coming on but I try not to dwell on it. “The Kennedy family has been nothing but good to your ass and its so degrading to me, your own momma, to see my son who I’ve raised to respect all women do some low shit like that - its just disappoints me so much, Jay.”
Her hands reach out to my face and I immediately jerk back from her touch, she snickers and then places her hands on both of my cheeks, her thumbs rubbing my skin, tenderly. “You’re so much better than what people perceive you to be - don’t prove them right, honey, prove all of their stupid asses wrong.”
I pull back from her touch and sulk silently. I’m not trying to hear any kind of lecture right now, I needed to talk to her about something but yet - she was doing all the damn talking! I snort - figures.
I try to divert the attention away from my shortcomings, “Mom!” My eyes widen, “You will not believe what Maria did to me.”
She chuckles softly, nodding her head, “She messed up your little ’Binky’, huh?” I squint my eyes at her in shock. That’s just so nasty that she knows this.
“How…when…why?” I can’t think straight.
Her hand pats my chest, sympathetically. “You need to learn that I do have a room just down the hall and those nasty girls you bring over here ain’t quiet worth a damn.” She is still laughing. “Binky? Oh honey, that does nothing for the female race but turn us completely off.”
My cheeks begin to turn red and I’m fucking totally embarrassed; of course, she can hear my daily conquests - I’m that talented in the sack, I’m not going to lie about that, at all. But still…what guy wants their mother to know what they call their penis?
I shake my head and glance down at my tiny bulge in my sweats - I won’t be calling you Binky anymore, that’s for sure. “Anyway, I’m going to act like I didn’t hear what you just said - how you know ’bout Maria, Ma?”
She rolls her eyes. “I have my sources.”
Who the fuck says that? She has someone spying on me? Who does that? I blink my eyes repeatedly and lower my voice, “Who are your ’sources’?”
Her hand flips in the air and she shrugs nonchalantly - “A girl never reveals her sources.”
I scoff. “Ma, you are no where near the vicinity of a girl anymore.”
A playful smack across my cheek hits me then and heat flushes my skin almost instantly and I touch my flesh, surprised and bewildered. I swear if she weren’t my mother…she’d be in serious trouble.
“Don’t test me, boy.” A silly grin appears upon her features then. “I’m glad you’re trying to turn things around, Jay - makes me happy.”
I can think of nothing but the sting and the welt that is now starting to form on my flesh - my mouth truly does get me into trouble. Shame on me.
When I don’t say anything, she chooses to keep running her mouth - I ignore mostly of what she has to say until she asks what did I have to tell her earlier; I’m so frustrated with being slapped, and being told off in a minimum of twenty minutes that I don’t want her to know anything more than her ass should.
Hell no, it just doesn’t get that good.
I shrug my shoulders and look to her, my eyes shooting daggers at her small, thin frame. “Just wanted to say I’m sorry for everything I put you through, Ma.”
Her eyes tear up slightly and she blows a kiss my way - it takes everything in me not to catch that motherfucker and throw it back at her ass but instead I smile forcefully and watch as she vacates my room. I exhale a breath of relief.
Thank you.
Suddenly, she steps back into the room and I cough. Shit, I spoke too soon. Damn. “Oh!” She’s moving closer to me again and I fight the urge to roll my goddamn eyes in annoyance. “I know why you treated Sadie so horribly, honey - it just came to me,” she leans in to me and whispers, “its because of Tyler, right?”
I cut my eyes away from her gaze and my breathing increases - I can’t see straight suddenly and my body begins shaking. I can’t deal with this right now. “Excuse me.” I say, quickly, moving past her and exiting to my bathroom while locking its door.
Nothing is running through my mind now but that I need to not be able to think of that girl - I just want to forget Tyler - the thought of her sends me into a frenzy and I refuse to deal with it. I just can’t.
Sweat beads are forming on my forehead now as I open my medicine cabinet and pull out my ’first-aid’ bag - opening the bag, my hands are trembling as I pull out the needle and its ’extra’ accessories. I hold the needle in the palm of my hand, tears clouding my vision now and as I hear my mother banging on the door - she’s worried.
Yeah, I’m worried, too.
Licking my lips I fall to the floor, raising the hem of my shirt over my shoulder and holding my arm out at a certain length, my veins are visible, my heart is pounding in my ears.
“Its you and me, always, Justin.”
I tie the band in a knot tightly around my left bicep and try my damnedest to hold the needle straight against my veins; I breathe in deeply as my mother’s shouting increases, terrified.
“J, someday, I truly believe you’ll be my everything…I just pray I can be the same for you.”
A soft whimper escapes my lips as I inject the poison into my body; this feeling instantly sends a shockwave of sensation to my body, my soul - shit, how I missed you so.
“Kissing you is the greatest sin but the most guiltiest pleasure.”
“Justin Randall!” My mother’s cries are softening now. She knows what I have succumbed myself to - “Honey, I’m sorry I brought it up - I’m so damn sorry! Just open up and let me in, please!”
I shake my head and lean my body against the base of my tub, the needle slips from my fingers and I close my eyes; it is then that I can’t fight it anymore…the tears start flowing like crazy and all I can see is those haunting gray eyes - killing me so long ago and killing me still.
“Loving someone shouldn’t be this hard - loving you shouldn’t be this fucking hard but it is - so what am I supposed to do? Wait on you to get your shit together? I can’t - I’m just not that type of person.”
The tears won’t stop and I’m frustrated that I can’t stop seeing her face - I can’t stop feeling the pain. Why won’t it just go the fuck away? I kick whatever is closest to me, hearing something shatter loudly doesn’t cause me to open my eyes - I don’t give a shit.
Its supposed to work, it always works - please work, just make it go away.
“I love you, Justin - I’ll always love you but I rather spend the rest of my days without you then be the dumb bitch that let you fuck me over - time and time again. You don’t deserve to have someone love you, Justin, what you need is pain and heartbreak and believe me - you’ll get yours one day soon.”
This pain was ripping into my heart into shreds - all I could feel, all I could sense was ache - this ache in my heart, my mind and my soul - bitches do this to a man any chance that they get. Damn Tyler! Damn her for turning me into this worthless piece of shit that does nothing but depend on sex and drugs to ease my devastation.
But now, even the shit that healed me the most wasn’t even working now. “Oh, God,” I’m crying out so loudly that I don’t recognize my own voice.
What my mother said is so damn true that its horrifying - the truth to all of this is that from the moment I laid eyes on Sadie Kennedy, I didn’t see notice her wide hips or her curvaceous body - all I noticed or even blankly tried to remember is Tyler Jackson’s face - those ghostly pale, odd features that normally wouldn’t capture any guys attention but had ironically, stolen my heart.
Sadie had scared me shitless into thinking that I could so easily hit rock bottom like I had done five years ago when Tyler Jackson walked out of my life. Funny shit, huh? Sadie is terrified of me but in reality, I’m fearful of anything that is related to the girl.
Be fucking surprised all you want - no one will ever know this, though - not even my own mother.
I can’t cry now; how is it that she’s gone out of my life forever but I can’t seem to cry or show any sort of emotion whatsoever? This isn’t the normal getting-over-a-breakup routine, is it?
Besides Trace, she had been my only friend; singing is my passion, my dream, my life and what greater gift than to share what you love with someone you love. I don’t know how it exactly fell apart - no, I take that back, I do - I just haven’t come to accept that as her reasoning for leaving me.
If love is suppose to conquer all - why am I without the one person who matters most to me in this God forsaken world? Please answer me that.
“Justin,” I glance up to find my mother’s sad eyes staring back into what I can only predict is the most pathetic sight she’s ever witnessed. “How’re you holding up?”
I’m unemotional, unattainable, irrigational, unforgivable, self-deprecating, cocky as hell, and apparently incapable of loving the opposite sex or at least that’s what Tyler believes - but other than that, I’m holding up fine, just fine.
I shrug my shoulders. “Don’t know really.” I run my fingers through my thick curls - she always liked having my hair longer than what I usually went for - she said it brought out the innocence in me.
Yeah, okay.
My mom doesn’t speak so I relent, “You think the pain will go away?”
She sighs, and I know she’s probably in the worst shape, ever; her heart is breaking right along with mine - my girl had been my mother’s daughter from another woman - they were inseparable.
I felt sorry for my Mom, just a tad.
Shaking her head, she joins me on my bed, her arm encircles around my thin waist and she pulls me closer to her warm, small body. “Honestly, it never will.” I close my eyes, somehow not expecting her to say that. “When we get our hearts broken, we tend to heal it the best way we can but the pain never goes away - we try to cover it the best way we know how, but it never fades.” She rests her head on my shoulder, “it’s the pain of never knowing what could’ve been that kills us.”
For some reason, my tear-duster decides to kick in because now my vision is blurry and the tears are falling like raindrops down my cheeks and I whimper softly, my arms embrace my mother and whine softly into the base of her neck, my tears tasting of saltwater. “Oh, momma, please make it go away, make it stop hurting so bad.”
I know she’s crying now, too. Her grip on me becomes tighter and she rocks our bodies from side to side, her curly blonde hair is covering my eyes and I inhale her strawberry aroma - my mother always smelt of various fruits - why I am thinking about this right now is beyond me.
“Hush, darling,” she says softly, “there’ll be a day when something takes the pain away that you can’t let go of - that you refuse to let go of…trust me, that day will come.”
I wipe the tears from my eyes - so, tell me now, mother, what am I to do when what heals me the most no longer sustains its power? Tell me. I groan inwardly, “What can be done?” I shake my head, sadly because even I know what the answer holds - nothing at all.
* * *
