Page 98 of Shade
Do you ever have that feeling when you’re drunk, and you think to yourself, I’m never drinking again because I don’t like feeling this numb?
I do that every time I drink, yet I do it again the next night. That’s addiction. May not be drugs, but still, addiction nonetheless.
There’s a girl in my room, one I’ve never seen before, or care to see again. Did I bring her up here, or did she follow me?
“Get out,” I hear myself telling someone, a nameless face I can’t make out, naked on my bed.
She mumbles something but leaves. Immediately. Which is for the better because the last thing I want is someone in my bed tonight.
Do you see me there on the floor in my room? I’m the one staring at a letter again. I don’t want to be. In fact, I’m caught on another part. The beginning where she says,“I don’t have an answer. Or even an apology for you. I’m weak.”
I stuff the letter in my nightstand, too afraid to destroy it, and not ready to. Rhya always was. Too weak to fight addiction, too weak to stay clean.
So why am I here, mourning a death that was inevitable, one I knew would end because she didn’t want to save it?
Do you remember that fight we had back before I left for Seattle? The one where I told her you choose happiness?
I told her, “If you’re not enough for yourself, then I’ll never be enough for you. Remember, Rhya, you choose happiness. I can’t choose it for you.”
Do you remember her reply? If not, I do. It was,“That’s always been the problem. We’re not the same people, Shade. Happiness isn’t a choice for me. It may be for you, a guy who has it all, but it was taken from me.”
Sleep doesn’t come for me. I lie awake staring at my ceiling, my hands on my bare stomach, wishing for the thoughts to fade, but they never do. Happiness is a choice for me. It is. And I’m constantly choosing the latter because of her. I shouldn’t anymore, and I’d like to think I won’t.
