"A night in the life of.." Reminiscing on a past life.

The bass shook through my chest; I coughed but it was only the music that reverberated. After everything with Jack I knew I should be trying to talk to Jane but for now I was putting it to the back of my mind. The vodka burned in the back of my throat just as the track changed; another cheesy piece of shit that would be forgotten in a fortnight. Diego's arms caught around my waist as he tried to whisper some slurred message into my ear, but to be honest I really wasn't interested. I think he knew it too. The details all seem so foggy, so unclear considering I told myself to remember them repeatedly.

The shit neon lights cast shadows in every pasty face in the place, no one stood out but I had come to forget so I was determined to find someone. Looking back on that night now, it seems almost dream-like. I moved down the narrow staircase with my cigarette already in my hand. Faceless hands grasped out from dark corners grabbing my arms and neck. Drag queens laughed with flamboyant queers, shooting dagger sharp looks towards me. I laughed as I walked. Some butch girl grabbed my ass and looked offended when her friend licked my ear. I should have slapped them both, but to be honest I just wanted to get outside. The sweat-thick air was suffocating and I needed to talk. Nothing in particular was on my mind but the silence in my mouth was killing me.

I sparked up and stood by the nearest wall; the cold brick was reassuring. Checking my phone for the hundredth time that night, I tried my hardest to remain subtle as I checked out every fucker in the area. The usual clique gay types surrounded the tables, but it was the quiet girl in the corner that caught my attention. She looked lost in thought, and, whether it was curiosity or concern, I wanted to know what was on her mind. Still, I was never going to just walk up to her. Even then I was still quite shy. I stole glances at her every now and then, just to make sure she was still there.

Diego strolled out with some blonde girl. She had tried to kiss me in the bathrooms about ten minutes before and was constantly trying to make conversation with me. Every time she opened her mouth she would find an excuse to touch me. Her voice was fucking irritating; high pitched and heavily laced with Daddy's money. Why the fuck do I keep hanging out with people like this? I let her words shoot past me as I watched quiet girl stand to go back into the club. Did she just laugh at me? She wandered idly past and grinned at me with a knowing look. I had to have imagined that.

I was so confused. What had actually just happened? I waited for Diego and whatsherface to finish their smokes before making a beeline to the door. Fuck being shy, I was going to find out what just went on.

The club was even more packed when we went back in, if that was even possible. The music had picked up speed and as if by rule, the faster the beat the less clothing was worn. Glistening skin surrounded me, and for once I had absolutely no interest in any of it. If I was going to get to the bottom of what quiet girl was laughing at, I was going to need a lot more alcohol in my system. Diego must have read my mind. One of the benefits of having a friend that is 6'5 is that it is almost impossible to ignore him at the bar. It was on. 10 shots and a minute to drink them. My gag reflex should have kicked in after the third but I drowned that fucker in so much Tequila that I swear it went into hiding. Cheers erupted from the skinny after work crowd behind us. The only girl from the group smiled at me - It was a shame she had such bad teeth, really.

Right. I had to find quiet girl and get some information. Diego had other ideas though; he grabbed hold of my elbow and dragged me to the dance floor. Blonde whatsherface tried her hardest to keep up too; her little legs were a blur. I couldn't help from laughing at the look on her face as she tried her hardest to get in between us. Diego held on to my hips and we started grinding to whatever shite was playing. Anyone looking on would have pegged us as anything more than just two very good friends. I think the fact that both of us were looking over the other's shoulder, (or at least under his arm) at whatever talent we had our eye on, was giving our game away though.

Blonde whatsherface started to pout after two songs of not being included. Usually, at this point, one of us had to take one for the team. I think Diego had cottoned on to the fact that she wasn't a fan of the cock though, so he went to dance with some Polish chick that he had been eyeing up. I was left to deal with the brat. She's kind of cute, I suppose.. Fuck it. I gave the girl a pity dance. I can be quite the actress apparently, she believed every bump was my confessions of lust. Not a fucking chance. I was way too sober for this shit.

The music slowed back down again. I motioned to the bar and she followed.. unfortunately. Diego was 'entertaining' the Polish chick in the seating area so I'd have to get my own drinks this time. A small tug on my shirt and a smile at the cute barmaid and I was making my order.

"What can I get you, Kerri?"

What the fuck.. she knows my name?!

I must have looked like a total retard getting those drinks. There was no way I could physically hide that much confusion from my face. She smiled at me as she handed me my drinks (and one for the brat) and just as I went to walk away, she grabbed my hand. Digits.

Without even trying, heh.

I had barely clocked the number on my hand before the blonde brat was climbing on some poor closet gay boy trying to get over the bar to hit her. (In these situations it's best to wait before you laugh.) I almost died laughing. Honestly, I tried to pull her off, but I could barely breathe for laughing so hard. The barmaid (who I would later get to know as Tess) was laughing too though, so I didn't feel too guilty.

Tess had it all under control , she had the powerhouse barman come lift her back out to the crowd without much effort, and winked at me. I want to say she made the "call me" gesture with her hand too, but that could just be my imagination. I felt sort of bad so I followed the brat into the bathroom. The anti heroin lights make me feel kind of sick so I try to avoid the bathrooms as much as possible. If I was making this story up from scratch I'd say that it was just the two of us in there and we had a quiet chat. I'm not. The bathroom was full of screaming fag hags and clucking bulldykes. Brat was standing in line for a cubicle sobbing. It was one of the more surreal things I've seen.

I slid past two women that were dry humping each other on the sinks and smiled nicely at bratgirl. She scowled at me and lifted her hand to slap me. Not on my watch, sweetheart. I grabbed her wrist, threatening her in a non threatening manner - however it is that you do that. Every lesbian in that room turned and looked at me like I had just shot their mother in the face. Why couldn't I have been straight? Then, she said it. The phrase that gets thrown at me from all directions and I hate hearing -

"You have no idea how long I have wanted this."

I lost my temper a little.

"Wanted fucking what?! I only met you an hour ago, for fuck sake!"

"You don't honestly believe someone like you can walk into this place and not get recognised, do you?"

"Well, actually, yeah, I fucking do. Are you on drugs or some shit?"

"I guarantee at least 80% of the women in this room know who you are and I can bet at least 50% of them want to fuck you because of it."

Apparently the bratgirl was a fucking mathematician. I looked around at the 25 or so other women in the room as they idly tried to pretend like they hadn't overheard our screaming conversation. I must have looked lost. One of the dry humpers stopped to turn and look at me. She bit her lip and grinned at her partner.

Oh.My.God.

Everything from the past two hours was starting to make sense. I had actually gained a reputation. I had joined the allegiances of every asshole I had spent the last 5 months of my life trying to avoid. Every time I walked into that club I made an effort to ignore every over inflated ego in the place. Thrill of the chase. I was one of them?!

This.. is.. fucked. In the most awesome form of the expression. I had actually been that naive to think that all of the attention that was thrown at me was merely the norm. I had no idea that every time someone smiled at me it was some sort of ice breaker to get me in bed. Jesus, I had even made a comment to Jack about how friendly the people in here were. I took his laughter for a reaction to me stating the obvious when, really, it was me being completely fucking oblivious.

I was snapped back to reality by bratgirl clinging to me. She was trying to push me backwards into a cubicle to the total shock and amusement to everyone else in the room. The plastic walls were disgusting; this girl had another thing coming if she thought I was going to fuck her in here - anywhere, for that matter. I couldn't formulate a plan quick enough. She had the door locked behind us before I even had time to catch my breath.

"Kerri...?"

Oh thank fuck. I pushed out past her to a waiting Diego. Some butch girl looked completely offended by his presence.

"Oh, shut the fuck up.. you're more of a man than I'll ever be!"

I was still laughing when he grabbed my arm and dragged me straight through the club to leave. I caught Tess pointing and giggling just as the door closed behind me and the cold rain hit me like a ton of fucking bricks.

"Listen, we need to get the fuck out of here."

Diego looked a little shocked and frightened. I was only noticing just how bad it was when a giant Polish man emerged from the door. He must have been 7 feet tall, and wore all black. His arms bulged out from his suit jacket. He was fucking huge.

"Let me guess...."

"Exactly! Now can we fucking run, please?"

I kissed Diego's cheek before making a dash down the surprisingly busy 2am street. He held my hand and pulled me along behind him before the boyfriend of the girl, he had just been fucking in the toilet, caught us. Again, it's best not to laugh in these situations, but the adrenalin, not to mention alcohol, was rushing through me and I felt invincible.

"I didn't interrupt anything did I..?"

We were breathlessly crouching behind a cop car; the foggy clouds swirling in front of our faces, rapidly. I was going to ask Diego if he knew anything about this whole reputation thing but I thought twice and kept it for another time. I was going to tell him he had done me a favour by coming in when he did too, but the words just weren't there.

"Give me your jacket and I'll forgive you.."

Everything else could wait.

What do you want from me?

The bitter cold biting at the back of my neck only ever acts as a reminder to everything I have lost. I am struggling, I have no issues with admitting that right now, yet, it always seems like it's something more. Regardless of how many times I replay the last conversations we had, I still haven't quite grasped what went wrong, or why you changed so drastically. It isn't fair that we've had to be this way for the past few months when in reality, we're gong through the exact same stuff. We both lost her, and yet, still, even now, you blame me. I am still your enemy for some reason. You still take out your frustrations on me when all along I was the only one that had your back.

I don't understand why you need that shit to keep you going. I never will I guess, I just wish I was enough of a presence for you that you wouldn't need it. You're ruining everything you have ever achieved with every fucking hit and I am not going to be the one to stop you this time. I can't keep being the enemy that you long for when you're on a come down. I can't keep being the one you blame when you're withdrawing. It takes it's toll on me and to be honest, I don't think I have it in me this time.

It kills me to know I no longer have my best friend watching my back. It kills me knowing he hates me enough that he would be willing to hurt me in any sort of physical manner. Yet again, it's not just that. The fact that you have less respect for everything I have done for you, everything I gave up for you, so that you can score one more time, is enough to throw me over the edge.

I miss her. More than anyone will ever realise, yet I am not throwing every other relationship I have away this time. If all I ever was to you is another nobody to hate the world and everyone in it, I don't want to know you any more. You told me you loved me, where the fuck has that gone?

I am not willing to go back to how I was just so you won't be mad at me. I refuse to go down the same road as you do to deal with all of this. It's not fair that you keep dong this to me and I am supposed to just wait for it all to end. "Oh, he'll be there for me again soon." That shit just won't cut it this time. You done the one thing I will never forgive you for. You took every promise you made to me and fucked it away like I didn't mean a thing to you. That's love, Jack? You are seriously deluded.

The most heartbreaking part is, if you said tomorrow you were sorry and you needed help. Who would it be getting you healthy? You're seriously wrong if you believe it would be her. I'm always going to be here, even if you can't afford me the same favour. I love you. I miss you like crazy and I really wish I could call you right now, but, I will never forgive you.

"What do you want from me?"

I want you to cut the bullshit and be the friend I need right now. I want you to be the person I always thought you were and sort your shit out. I want to be able to see you, just call you even, and not have to fear for my safety. I want to be able to trust you like I used to and know, that above all else, I had at least one person to count on. I just want the old Jack back.

Superman never saved anyone with a syringe full of heroin.

Sleep deprived

It should be logic that pulls through in each and every decision that we as humans make. It should be that voice that tells you that something just isn't right which pushes you forward through the daily battles. Yet, lately, I find myself relying on an escapist creativity to make my decisions. I divulge in a vast amount of pondering on a daily basis, which has, undoubtedly, reached a level whereby I am no longer capable of controlling it. It's not necessarily a bad thing, but why, when faced with such a huge issue are we suddenly cast into this hug abyss of abstract imagery and floundering speeches? Or is it just me?

I believe my mind is trying to protect me in ways that I will only ever understand on a subconscious level. It's over protective distractions act only as a more frustrating excursion to silly truancies than having any sort of concrete effect on who I am. Whatever has happened in the past couple of months has pretty much incapable of dealing with any emotion other than sheer aggression.

Justified as it may be, I want to move past the desperation of not being able to fix this. Powerless is not something I can do easily. I am fighting with myself more than I am taking it out on anyone else, and quite frankly, I can be a fucking bitch sometimes. Physically, I am in little or no pain, but when I get going on myself over the fucking cesspit of failure that is slowly replacing what were once achievable dreams, I am killing myself slowly. Every single time I make myself look at the facts I can't help but cringe away from the fact that maybe I am not good enough, or maybe my confidence has been a little unjustified. (In some aspects anyway.)

So, faced with the prospect of maybe not being a well read author or industry changing name, what do I do? I fucking write. It is a vicious battle that I can only ever lose. I have a back up plan,yet it just seems a little dismal. Motivation just isn't an option. With such a complicated muse mixed with some complicated drama, I am a prisoner to the English language in the most unproductive way. Fucking typical, eh?

Anyway.. whine over.

PMS may have played a part in some of the depression.

I need to find a way of releasing some of the pent up frustration in a healthy way.

Back to the drawing board.

Okay, let's look at this;

Yes, Jack betrayed me in ways I never expected or could have ever dreamt of. I don't think I'll ever get over it, but really, I didn't get this far without shit happening, right? I am the person no one wanted coming to talk to them. I am the person that you heard whispers about; rumours about what I was capable of. My reputation alone could scare a lot of people into doing what I wanted when I wanted.

I am unstoppable and made of fucking steel.

I just... don't feel like it.

I have taken down the tank that is Paula and right now, I feel as though I could be blown over with a breath.

I want to feel strong. I want to be what is expected of me, yet all I do is end up looking like a complete Dick. I push the ones that I rely on right now away. I know I am doing it; self protection, right? IT'S MAKING ME FUCKING MISERABLE. Whatever else is happening, I am doing my own head in. How fucking irritating can one person get?

So.. considering this new revelation.. I am making a resolution to just be happier. I've done it before, I can do it again. She will help me I am sure. As will the reintroduction of regular writing and work. (That has to be the ultimate in dorkiness, getting excited at the prospect of some school work). I reckon the GAA championships will help a lot too. Some poor unsuspecting country girl will be on the receiving end of my wrath.

I really have no idea what my point was with this post. More random ramblings than anything.

I should really leave it there before I end up posting bank details and NI information for the craic.