Drugs for Love // Dallas Winston

Mirror, Mirror

It was about 8:30 at night, Dallas had talked me into doing a round of shots with him. Whoever won got a pack of cigarettes. That was the deal, and he was currently losing.

Dallas was obviously shit face drunk at this point, he couldn't really form a simple sentence at this point. I on the other hand was just starting to feel the alcohol take set in my body. I saw him take another shot, I knew that was enough for the night.

"Nope.'' I took the alcohol out of his hand. He looked at me as if I had stabbed him. "You need to go to sleep." I stated getting up. He got up also, but fell to the floor almost instantly. I stood there for a second, thinking he'd stand. He didn't. His eyes were closed and his chest was beating slowly. I just rolled my eyes.

I slowly lifted the limp Dallas off the ground and threw him over my shoulder. He actually did not weigh much. I remember about a year ago I was training to go into the marines, which was incredibly stupid by the way. I wouldnt last a week there. But that training was sort of paying off right now.

I opened the door to his room and turned on the light and set him down on the bed, he bounced up a little, which made me laugh at him. He was never going to hear the end of this from me. Or Johnny. Johnny and I would definitely remind him of this wherever he started drinking to much.

I slipped his jacket off and set it on the back of a chair. Then his boots which I lazily threw on the floor somewhere I wasn't aware of and pulled the covers over him, also while taking the unlit cigarette out of his hand. I threw it on the chair where I had placed his jacket.

"You're an asshole." I mumbled as I shut his door and returned to the booming music at the bottom of the bar. I waved goodbye to Buck and walked out the door.

I'm guessing alcohol doesn't really have an effect on me after i take drugs. Because I feel absolutely nothing. No emotions, no feelings, nothing. Everythings just blank, like i'm just a person in a body. Like I don't fully exist.

–

I stare at myself in the mirror back at my house. I looked at myself, the tall, lanky girl in front of me should be something else. She should have a purpose in life. She shouldn't spend her time with people like Dallas Winston or Steve Randle. She should spend her time with people like Cherry Valance and Christina Curry. Matt Curry even. God that pissed me off.

The lanky girl in front of me shouldn't be doing drugs with her best friend, she should be studying for college, or finding a man to wife her up real quick and start a family. Have children and name them Tommy and Ellen or something.

She shouldn't have the dream of following in her father's footsteps, the dream of doing something that's almost impossible for women. She shouldn't be acting like a bigshot when she has weaknesses. I looked at my reflection and saw disappointment. My father has did the same things I'm doing now when he was my age. Drugs, Drinking, being friends with the wrong people. Look where he is now. Gone. Dead. Never returning.

Maybe if i would've tried hard enough he would have still been alive. Maybe we would still be in Nevada, talking about teaching me how to fly when I was 14 years old. The old memory comes back to me, sticking tears in my eyes. It had only been a week after my 16th birthday when I lost my best friend forever.

I feel as though people judge me constantly, even though I know they don't care, they're just living their normal lives. I put on this arrogant, cold expression to everybody. It scares me sometimes. I feel like I've actually become that kind of person. Cold, mean, an ass to be around. Not a good person overall.

What's wrong with me?

Maybe it would be better if I just, disappeared.