Sunday, 17 February 2013

So how can you heal yourself unless you've hurt yourself? (Brendon Urie)

“Things are weird,” I offered. “He loves me, did you know that?”
William half-nodded.
“He met my family yesterday. I almost got him killed.”
“By your family?”
“Two separate situations, sorry.”
“So you two are dating now? Like more than friendly friends?”
“I love your accent. British people sound so intellectual.”
“Diversion.”
“No, we're still friendly friends.”
“Does he know that?”
“Listen Will, I know what you're trying to do.”
“Me? What am I trying to do?”
“I don’t know.”
He put his arm around me and his terrible morning breath tinged with the smell of coffee tickled my nose as he asked, “Do you remember–”
“I remember how you made out with me because you were angry that Nicky got a part that you wanted. I remember how you reported it to him victoriously afterward. I remember all the gory details but I don't remember the actual kissing. I guess you weren't that memorable.”
“Let me remind you.”
He kissed me and I just let it happen. Nicky didn't come out of his room but he knew it happened. My life was turning into a mess of mind games and sexual warfare. I had learned from a young age that abusing my body brought instant gratification and when I gave up drugs I transferred the abuse from drugs to sex. The implications were different but the principles were the same. Sure I started doing drugs again but meth wasn't the same as heroin. I guess habits are hard to break. Habits become your life. Perhaps my life was beginning to spiral out of control. 

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