Page 18 of Up In Smoke

Rico’s car is way nicer than I remember from the hazy drive yesterday. It still has that new car smell from the buttery leather upholstery, and the dash looks more like a starship than a hatchback. When I start it up, the display tells me it’s got less than twenty thousand miles on it. That’s good, isn’t it?

An idea springs to life like a thorny, poisonous weed.

If I sold this thing, that would give me a ton of cash immediately to get back on my feet. That’s what Rico wanted, wasn’t it? I know a guy. He’d give me a fair price, no questions asked. I could pay my rent for a whole month and buy whatever I needed and then while I’m looking for a new job, I could just fucking breathe. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t constantly stressing about bills and how to afford my next fix. The idea of having that relief makes a sob escape from my chest.

Yes, this is a good idea. Rico will be fine. That’s what insurance is for. He’ll understand. I check my mirror so I can reverse out of the space.

When I catch my reflection, I stop.

I look gaunt. Like a zombie, mindlessly shuffling toward his own destruction.

Again.

I swallow around the lump in my throat. I’m just tired. Once I get a good chunk of change back in hand, so many of these problems will be gone. Life will be back to normal. Sure, I was hardly happy before, but what more can I expect?

I don’t deserve anything more.

But…Rico seemed to think I do. His face swims in my mind, the anguished expression he wore when he talked about having to be the one to tell my brother that I’m dead.

I have no intention of dying, though. I want to feel alive, not cooped up in Redwood fucking Cove or whatever this place is called. Rico would be sick of me in a matter of days, and that more than anything else would drive me to drink anyway. No, I need to go, now, and…

And be on my own again. That way no one can be disappointed in me. I need to get out of my head. I can’t stand it in here any longer. I’m so sick of myself. Numb is better, and if I can’t have numb…

I’ll take nothing.

I was so close before.

My lip trembles as another sob fights its way free. Rico said Adam would be devastated if I wasn’t around anymore, but would he really? He’s already on the other side of the planet. He’d eventually just forget about his loser, fucked up brother. I’d be doing him a favor.

Rico would gladly be rid of me, I’m sure. I’ve caused him more than enough trouble in only thirty-six hours.

No one will miss me. Why am I even trying? What’s there worth sticking around for?

Why am I still fighting? What’s the point in making plans I’m just going to break or fall short on? All I do is let people down.

Including myself.

My eyes are bloodshot when I confront my reflection again. How long have I been avoiding this? Stepping back and taking an honest look at who I am and what I’m doing with my life. Years. Because I don’t like what I see.

Maybe my brother would miss me if I was gone, and I’d hate to do that to him.

But doIeven want me around anymore? How much longer can I keep forcing myself to lurch around in this body when all I do is spend my time thinking of ways to escape it? I’m just existing between one high to the next, desperately hoping that this time, it’ll be enough. That I’ll eventually find the euphoria that makes all this pain worthwhile.

It’s too much effort. I’m not worth it. If I don’t want to be a burden, I should just give up.

End it all for real this time. Do it properly.

But I don’t want to disappear. A small, pitiful part of me is still clinging onto a hope of better days to come. If I haven’t found them by now, though, will I ever?

It just feels easier to be numb. To stop these thoughts swirling like a fucking tempest. If I drown them out, I don’t haveto make any more decisions. But I have no money to do that, and around and around I go again.

What’s the point? I just want it to all stop.

I drop my head onto the steering wheel and give up holding onto what little dignity I had left. I wail like a child, tears and snot streaming down my face as I howl.

I have nothing. I am nothing. And when I’m gone, I’ll leave nothing behind other than a hundred and twenty episodes of a TV show no one even remembers anymore.

What a waste of a life.