A Compelling Life

18. So down

When you're high, you never ever want to come down.

Axl clearly knew what he was talking about when he wrote those lyrics.

Walking down a crowded Strip in the middle of the afternoon, dressed in last night's clothes, the cold, hard reality rears its ugly head. I'll probably never see Axl again. We were living on borrowed time yesterday, expressing our feelings on a dead honest level of openness and comfort, postponing our unavoidable separation by living life to the extreme. In the cruel light of day, however, our words seem artificial; a chemically ridden, tainted memory.

It's striking how lonely you can feel in a sea full of people. Street vendors praise their wares in a variety of languages, music comes from behind opened windows. Vehicles whizz by, cars honking at one another, the faint sound of police sirens in the distance. The never-ceasing noise of the city aggravates my headache as I pass liquor stores, pawn shops and colorful graffiti-clad walls.

I buy a pack of cigarettes from a newsstand, avoiding eye contact while giving out my order. "That will be one dollar and nine cents, please, " the owner informs me in a thick Spanish accent. It's as if I can hear the disapproval in his voice; I've been seeing the same kind of condemnation on the faces of anonymous passers-by. My poor life choices must be written all over my face, open for everyone to judge, branding me as the shitty person I probably am.

A homewrecker. Drug user. Coward.

Quickly laying out the money, I grab my Marlboro's, continuing on my way without so much as responding to the man's muttered: "Have a nice day!"

I focus my gaze at the pavement until I arrive at the familiar 3-story, slightly run-down apartment building, kicking off my painful shoes before ascending the stairs. Home sweet home. My roommates seem to be out, and for once, I'm glad they aren't around. To be honest, I want to put off the moment where I'll have to explain last night's events to them for as long as possible.

Sleep deprived and miserable, I head to my bedroom, crashing down on my bed with every intention to sleep for at least 48 hours.

****************************

The approaching twilight casts sepia-tinted shadows on my ceiling as the sound of knocking tears me loose from a feverish dream about Axl.

"KareBear?" Corey cautiously peeks through my doorway. "Sorry if I woke you up, but we're ordering pizza. Do you want anything?"

"Sure, order me one with pepperoni, will you?" I respond in a raspy voice, even though the thought of eating makes the bile rise in the back of my throat.

"One pepperoni coming right up! Now get your ass out of bed, we want to hear everything about last night!" He's practically bouncing with excitement, while I 'm literally resisting the urge to scream by pulling my pillow over my head.

"I'll be there in a sec," I moan lethargically as I reluctantly stand up, slipping on the first t-shirt in sight that smells somewhat acceptable. Boy, do I have a story to tell them.

**************************

With our pizza's mostly untouched, three pairs of inquiring eyes meet mine when I finally finish my detailed report on last night's events. Once I started talking, there was no way back; the words poured out of me like a rushing river, and even if my friends most likely think of me as a drug-crazed adulterer right now, having been able to confess lifts a weight off of my shoulders.