Where I Was Before You

51. yes yes no

I'm happy.

Yeah.

I'm happy, but what does happiness mean again?

It's been so long since I've felt happiness, like pure happiness from another person. In fact, I can't even recall the last time, did it ever actually happen?

And even if I did feel this happiness, where was I getting it now? Not from the presence of a person, but the lack of a presence of a person. A void, a toxic, sizzling, degrading potion I've just drunk, that begins to burn at my throat and send fire down to my digestive system. I slowly began to choke, and I can smell my burning flesh from the inside out. I cry out in pain, for relief, but no one is there. Because I'm the one that mixed the f*cking drink.

Yeah, I'm happy.

No, I'm not.

I didn't go after him, and I feel like a fucking disgrace to the human race because of it. Like I have broken the one rule you're not supposed to break. I've been breaking rules my whole life, particularly the last week, but it only seems that this one counts. The one rule I thought I was free to and allowed to break, it turns out was the one I wasn't allowed to cross above all.

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I'm in the car now, and I don't know why I'm driving. You'd think I'd be crying, calling out screaming, being hysterical. But I felt nothing. The acid had done its job, I was empty, hollow. I didn't feel the compassionate need to look for Freddie. Technically speaking, I knew that Freddie was an adult male who could easily take care of himself out in the world. But the way he ran out... not in anger, or bitterness, but in pure heart brake. I had actually broken him. I had stepped so far over the line that the scale had broken in half. Forget about my emotions overweighing each other, what about Freddies? Something I said had inflicted such pain, such sadness on him, that it overtook and discredited all the anger he had at that moment. And he had a lot of anger. Jesus Christ Freddie where are you? What am I even doing? Why do I keep trying to f*cking hurt you? Why did you f*cking forgive me? I'm a useless piece of adult f*cking sh*t and in no way shape or form do I deserve anything close to you. I though I did. I thought I was being the reasonable one, you were being abrasive, manipulative, dominant. But f*cking hell he was right... it was me. It was always me.

My lungs grab onto a measly amount of breath before I shut my mouth and try not to let the tears fall down. I had cried so much this past week. f*ck I really have, almost every day. My sister or anyone else that knows me will tell you that I never cry, I still vaguely remember Katies face when she rescued me at the club, how distraught and confused she looked like she was seeing someone lying down on a highway. What do you do in that situation? Especially if the person afflicted is me. I was never overly good at comforting people, I never knew what to say, or how to touch them or how long to hug them for. It was way more awkward than comforting. But I always needed to try. Oh god, Freddie...

The tears now began spilling down my face, not in a hysterical way, but more in a way where I couldn't physically control it. My emotions were taking over my body functions, whilst the rest of me stayed at ease. My mind was transcending into f*cking chaos.

I'm looking around for him, driving down every street near me, or within a 1km radius. But I have no idea where he would have gone. The only place he knows anyone is my work, and that's a 45-minute walk from my house. God dammit Freddie where the f*ck did you go!?

No. Don't blame this on him. This wasn't his fault, it never was. You drove him out, you called him a bastard, an asshole, you don't care Freddie so stop pretending like you do!!