bang, bang [ziam]

addicted

karma police - radiohead

*drug abuse*

z.m

three weeks later

"—but, how are you going?" i heard louis' voice drone on the phone clutched in my hand, doing his routinely checkup on sodding old me. i didn't really know what to do with myself, frankly. before love seemed to tear my pride and dignity apart, louis and i used to be up to all sorts of shit together. i'd sit on the phone, a cigarette in my fingers and a bottle of liquor near by. now what am i? some boring old loser in their twenties debating whether i should just spare everyone around me the time and fling my body over the balcony. fly down the stories of apartments and land in a sea of cars — i wouldn't make a fuss, i'd be like any other pigeon who stupidly ran out on the road and amounted to a silly speed bump.

surely i had gone through tougher things than an unestablished break up with a troubled teenager. gee, i had spent months locked away in some rehab for my drinking in my earlier years — and that nearly killed me. and fuck, how could i forget the cherry on top? my lungs were chopped up like deli meat only months ago because of a tumor that had decided to accommodate itself into my chest like a nice little loft apartment in upper manhattan with a view. sometimes i think, shit, lucky it wasn't bowel cancer. or worse, testicular cancer. i got out lucky enough, yet here i am, moping on about someone who obviously couldn't give half a single fucking shit about me to even pick up the phone and talk it through.

i mean, he literally just walked away. i couldn't blame liam, somehow our lives were absolutely  insidiously difficult. a part of me wished and pleaded that i could just move past the fact that  liam had knocked up some optimistic, messy girl from his fucked up school. but i really couldn't, i could live with a lot of things, just not that. a fucking little child, walking around, looking like liam, birthed into a hostile situation with a girl who was bound to have a mental breakdown once she hit eighteen — i couldn't do it. i mean could you imagine it? liam, an uneasy, gay teenage boy who is only trying to find himself with a baby — and some girl that he barely knew. where the fuck was i in that equation? no where.

"just fine." i think my pause was quite telling but i knew louis didn't really care all that much. he was probably at home, drank a little too much white wine and trying to decide whether he should order chinese or indian with the real housewives of atlanta blasting through his apartment. it's a guilty pleasure that one, isn't it?

"you know the premiere of the film is on tomorrow, right? everyone's been invited to a red carpet." he blabbed and i sighed, already having read the email a week ago and deciding to not step a foot near it.

"not going." i mutter and louis makes an aborted sound.

"uh, hello? free champagne? maybe a little expensive cocaine with the director? cute journalists that will just about anything for you? what's not to like?" he questioned almost sarcastically and i already felt sick to my stomach at the thought of any of it.

"i'm trying to be sober." is all i could come up with. it was somewhat true, i had begun to grow up far too late. i didn't really desire drinking for the mere intent of getting legless and blind. i didn't want to snort lines with some fucking idiotic director. i didn't want some pushy cunt following me around all night, hoping i'd let some information slip if they got on their hands and knees. it was fucking foul, the whole business.

"okay, i get that, i'm cool with you being straight — you're still funny. but we both know it's not that. it's liam, innit? you're scared to see him, if he shows up at all." he declares and i really just want to hang up and go to sleep. i check my watch and it's 8:47 and i just wished that i could smash my head into the wall and call it a night.