Highly Inappropriate

53.

A little over two weeks have passed since the party, I think.. not really sure about it.

Thing is, I ended up doing a lot more than just one line, to the point that that girl actually hooked me up with her dealer.

It didn't take long for Jess to notice my intoxicated state that night, but she thought it was just a one time thing, a spur of the moment decision.. in fact she also did some with us, but little did she know it didn't end there for me.

The days following the party, I tried my best to not satisfy the desire of calling the number Brooke gave me, and let me tell you, I almost succeeded. But then a dream about Ashley made its way to me in my sleep, resulting in yours truly waking up in tears.

Like, full on ugly crying. And it wasn't pretty, at all.

That day I carried myself around like a robot, randomly zoning out without an apparent reason, barely uttering a word to anyone, not even at work. I think that was the day it really sunk in that she was gone and she wasn't coming back, and I felt even more lost than ever before.

So that's when my frequent trips to this guy's house started. After my shift, I allowed myself to break into tears as soon as I climbed in my car: I didn't understand any of it; I didn't understand why after everything she told me, she had the guts to leave without a shred of an explanation.

I'm not saying it would've been easier, cause that would be a big fat lie.. but at least I would've had a fucking reason to cope with.

Instead I was left with nothing, just a lot of unanswered questions and a feeling of numbness that wouldn't go away no matter what.

That's the thing: I wanted to feel something other than heartbreak and utter sadness. And even though I knew it was wrong, stupid and reckless, doing what I was doing was the only moment I actually felt alive again.

But it was becoming a problem and I knew it. I knew it because I couldn't wait to end my shift and run home, shut myself in my room, away from everyone, and spend my nights snorting, chugging beer, smoking weed and binge watch whatever I came across on Netflix until the sunrise. Alone.

This resulted in my sleeping schedule getting completely fucked up, with me sleeping all throughout the day and waking up just a couple of hours before my shift. This also resulted in me completely self-isolating myself from the people I lived with, barely managing to even see them before I left the house.

They definitely knew something was wrong with me, but my best guess is that they just thought I was finally coming to terms with the fact that she was no longer here, and that I was coping with it in my own fucked up way.

God, if they only knew.. they would kick my ass to the curb.

So basically the only time of the day where I was sober was at work. Mind me, I was quickly becoming addicted to the amazing feeling it gave me that it became harder and harder not to clock in high as a kite.. but everything about this situation was already messed up as it was, and I really couldn't afford to also lose my job. Cause Dean wouldn't hesitate a second to beat the crap out of me and fire me on the spot, rightly doing so might I add.

Another weird habit I developed was to pick up random girls during my shift and bring them back to my house, eventually fucking them and urging them to leave in the middle of the night when the entire ordeal was over. Why 'weird'? Because I would make them feel good but wouldn't allow them to do the same to me before kicking them out. They all looked quite confused in front of my awkwrd behavior, I myself didn't understand it to be honest, but I couldn't give two shits about it or them for that matter.