Awake.

Awake.

Eyes snap open. The lazy droll of the fan overhead captures your attention. Shafts of light filter through the blinds onto your bed. You rise, only to sit back down and wipe your eyes. You reach for your lukewarm beer and take a tentative swallow. The bitterness takes you by surprise. The bitterness of your life takes you by surprise. You try again to get out of bed and your shaky knees finally catch. You hobble to the couch and turn the TV off. The static irritates your eyes. You shower to wake yourself up for the day. Regardless of the activity, everyday is the same. No matter what you wear, it’s always the same. Same jeans, same shirt. You pride yourself on style, but all you do is mimic. You brush your teeth, gargle your mouthwash. You put your contacts in so you can ignore the world around you. You look in the mirror, but you see nothing of importance. You walk downstairs to your family, but no one is around. You look around and wonder where everyone is. Mom? Dad? No answer.

You scrounge up what could pass as breakfast, don’t worry about it being mid-afternoon. No work, just the day to yourself. You think of things to do. Girl One- boyfriend. No chance. Girl Two- nice enough, just not for you. You always want what you can’t have. It’s an old habit. Guy One- work. Fuck it. You’re on your own today, kid. You hop in your very generic American made vehicle and drive to your even more generic American town. What passes as fun is constituted to a strip of road containing restaurants and strip malls. Your joy can hardly be contained. This place is almost as vacuous and empty as you. Your CD player kicks in and plays a familiar song. You think about her. You can’t help but think about her. For a while, it was all you ever did. You loved her. You still love her. You are nothing but a memory to her.

When did your life go wrong? You seemed to have it made. Good looking. Smart. Football player. Maybe not the best, but good enough to be noticed. Star baseball player. Good family. Popular sister. Pretty girlfriend. Bright future. One thing led to another. I was pregnant. You panic. I lost the baby. Relief. Kind of. Three months later, you need time. You figure out you’re an idiot. You need her. Together again. Two months later. I can’t be in a relationship where you put your hands on me. You are devastated. You have no one to tell. You brush it off, turning the pain inward. It hurts, but you don’t let it show. The big city welcomes you.

You leave for college. All of your scholarships are forgotten. You took too much time to make a decision, all for her. They can only hold your spot for so long. Better luck next time. Your parents pay for school. They genuinely love you. People like you. Or they give the impression. Your roommate is a dick. Your friends are cool enough. Class is boring. Eight AM class is even worse. You never go. Your grades show that. You feed your parents the bullshit. They believe you. You come home for the summer. Nothing has changed. You hang out with your friends. You don’t do anything exciting. You think about her a lot. She calls you to apologize. There might be some hope. She calls to say she’s sorry. She calls to say she is seeing someone else now. This breaks your heart. You want her to be happy. You loved her. You still love her.

Fall semester. Take two. You trust your roommate. You like your roommate. Class is boring. Now you really don’t go. You know you shouldn’t waste your parents’ money, but you don’t go just the same. You go to your friends’ apartment. You drink. A lot. All the time. You smoke. Weed. More than you should. Cocaine. Only once. Guy- Bloody nose. Whoa, a little rusty. Let’s do another line. You refuse, maybe for the first time in your life. Self-control is not a character trait you exhibit. You go to work. You skip class and sleep. You don’t do homework. You hang out and do stupid things. Illegal things. Repeat. You know you have a problem. I need to come home. I don’t like it here anymore. Are you sure? I think you need to stay. I need to come home. It’s too expensive for you to have to pay. Are you sure? Please.

Home sweet home. Stir crazy. Slower pace, not as much drinking. No drugs. Classes aren’t so bad. You are actually happy. Soccer. Girl. Too young for you. You don’t care. You become attached. She uses you. Not intentionally, but it is what it is. Are you still seeing him? Don’t lie to me. Yes. That’s all you need to hear. Weeks later. I have something important to tell you. I’m pregnant. Holy shit. So I hear she’s pregnant, is it yours? No way, you have to have sex to get pregnant. She’s 17; you’re not that stupid. You finally found a job. People are cool enough. Pay is ok. Hours are terrible. You get by. School starts back. Classes are actually interesting. Guess who’s there. She sits in front of you. You see her more now than you ever have. You talk to her, she responds. It’s been two years. Doesn’t seem that long. You love seeing her. You love her.

You make friends. Finally. Actual friends. You love them. They keep you grounded. You can talk to them and not feel judged. They help you feel in control. You start drinking again, but only because it’s fun, not because you need to. You develop feelings. You like her. She understands you. She shows an interest. She already has someone. You always want what you can’t have. It’s an old habit. Party time. Clothes come off. You restrain. You are getting the hang of this self-control thing. You sleep it off. Your feelings are too intense to let them go unnoticed. You tell her. I don’t know what to say. She skips town, goes to see her boy. You are left confused and hurt. Alone. She calls you. Talks about how great a time she had. We really needed it, I’m glad I went to see him. You know where you stand. You can only think of her. You love the idea of her.

The same song comes on, it wakes you. Eyes snap open. I can be ruthless if you let me. You lay down, eyes weary. You think. You dream. You sleep. Restlessly. You think of her, just like old times. You go to call her but catch yourself. Self-control is a good thing. You sit on the edge of your bed, wipe your eyes. You cry, not for long. Long enough for you to hurt. You loved her. You still love her. You love her. You sleep.

Awake.

Eyes snap open. Breathe. Make sure you’re still alive. Life is yours. Take it. Do with it what you want. You waste no time. You have a plan.

Awake.

Breathe.