Soundtrack: 2000 miles – Lucky 7
Fix Or Fall
Life's never easy and with you everything seemed to double when it came to trouble. Combining an addiction as bad as yours with me and a world falling apart was asking for it and down we went. I saw hell, and truth to tell I nearly died. Was it worth it? Definitely. Worth it a million times around because I've never met someone like you before. I've never fallen so bad, and loved so hard. Never breathed so shallow and lived on so little. Never tasted so much and craved so bad. Like shoving a screwdriver trough your cranium and watching it all on television while eating popcorn you made the world surreal and still I didn't doubt a second of it. If you said it was a certain way, then it was.
Now when months have passed since… they say you made me blind and that's why I did the things I did. I know the truth though, and I still try to see the birds down on Thomas square as you saw them, not grey but as a rainbow, a multicoloured universe. Wild-berries and drunken nights, acid-trips and forgotten realms, reality dragged out thin, but living the edge is so much better than just walking it. A stroll is never enough. They say it wasn't my fault, they say you were already gone and I was hopeless and alone, of course I'd come along. A kid like me born and raised so far from here, tempted by a boy like you, star-struck and crazy-eyed, with traffic-jams in your veins and sparkles of city-lights in your hair. You knew the streets by heart, and I, I was eager to learn and get away. I had so much to run from, and you were the fastest ride I'd ever have.
We met and we crashed, crashed so brutally hard against the asphalt I still have marks.
Not even nights spent on cold bathroom tiles in god knows where with cramps racing trough my body and an urge to throw my intestines right back up could make me regret a second of taking your hand - placing a plastic bracelet made of painted pearls in different shades of blue around your wrist and asking you if; you and me could be we (if that's okay with you?).
You grinned at that, and I liked to pretend it was a smile. I know if our time together would be a movie, it'd be a tragic one. The kind emotional indie-girls cry to in the end, loves to pieces and watch a hundred or so times over on lonely nights. It'd be the kind of film that slightly depressed teenagers would try to re-live because we made fucking up look fantastic when really it wasn't. Mostly it was magical and if they knew, they'd kill me for saying so. Like a dream and there's a taste of guilt in the air, I should have known. Of course I can give it all a sane view but it isn't worth it, it isn't worth slowly choking the only thing that glitters so bright I have to squint. I won't, because I still believe in you, I still believe we could fly without powdered wings. It wasn't our fault that we had an accident, a car-crash in our hearts that stole pretty much everything and I'm left with almost empty hands, but our lines still match, they're still the same. So I have faith in forever friendship and veritas cut into teenage palms.
The first time we met it was afternoon, downtown at Sandy's ice-cream bar, I was kind of new and a so called friend was showing me around town. I remember not feeling well that day and my sleeves itched along my arms. You asked about those since it was so hot outside and I lied at first about being from an even hotter place to begin with like Asia or Australia when really where I am from it is cold all year around and it is no wonder our hearts freeze to death. You made mine burn though but that's beside the point, it doesn't count now when stuck in memories. That summer drove us insane and now when winter's come, I think I still am.
With pupils dilated so wide I couldn't tell the colour of your eyes you caught my attention right away. I stuttered over my own name and you showed off your white, white teeth and introduced yourself as Freckles. Freckles without a last-name and as far as I know no real name either, but it was enough for me, I liked Freckles as much as I liked the little flecks of gold strewn all over the bridge of your nose. It fit. Finally I spluttered out: Mikhail, and extracted a hand for you to shake and in reply you just smiled so very wide and said: 'Mikhail, I'll call you Kitten; you're cute in that way'. And then you slid down the bubblegum coloured barstool and disappeared trough the doors we just came trough leaving something behind, something only I could recognise.
… and I think I fell in love with you right there and then, loved you for being strange and unreal in my too real world. I needed that ecstasy.
After that first clash between you and me things went smoothly and soon we spent long afternoons tangled in each others more or less without clothes, you hated them on me and I tore yours off. Truly it was the hottest summer in a million years so we didn't need them anyway. Your skin was the silkiest I'd ever felt and my hands fit perfectly around your waist, the same perfect as when your body spooned with mine. Not as two, but as one. 'It's called love you' told the small of my back one of those days and I swear it's true. You'd never lie about that. In the evenings when it finally started getting dark outside you were lost in a purple cocaine haze and I tagged along the best I could, sometimes strung out on the cheap Russian vodka we brought from home, and sometimes on those little white pills you refused to tell me what they were. 'A secret' you whispered and kissed my neck, leaving sloppy wet trails with you tongue and tiny bite-marks that said I was yours. No one else dared to touch and I liked it that way.
We never bothered much with sleeping and days turned into nights, and then into days again and for a while it all seemed like a never-ending chain of sunshine but then came clouds of rain and times of difficulties. Like when - and then I choke and double over, this is killing us - but there were times when you got so high on opiates that you couldn't see straight, and nights when I didn't know where you went and I paced the streets wondering about it, and that hurt me nearly as much as things in the past had done. The mornings after you always came around, red-eyed and singing dumb stuff from bad bands you loved to listen to and pretend that you too had an exotic-past. "Kiss me, I'm shitfaced…" never really got me going, neither did empty promises of not taking so much the next time. I didn't deny you the drugs, hell I did them myself, but somehow deep down inside I knew we we're speeding way too fast, and getting caught now would get us more then a ticket.
It'd take a life, most probably yours, and I couldn't stand the thought of that. I still can't.
So I let it pass and you snuggled close, and when we came around again I went to the pharmacy buying disinfection for our wounds ('cause even you couldn't get me to stop, and those needles you used weren't always clean) and we carried on spinning. You smoked grass and I watched little kids run around in the park, you talked about piercings and I dreamt about a future. You never seemed to bother about that, but then again, it was summer, and money was easy to get. Selling blowjobs and living on air got us all we needed. We had it all for a while, and god it felt so good. You knew every inch of me and pleasure came so easy by simple touches. I was the destructive one and still you were the one keen on dying (didn't make sense, doesn't make sense). I never wanted that, I just couldn't stop feeling wrong. You were right but got misplaced along the way and somehow you ended up in a too big city. My wasteland scared you, you confessed one of those nights we couldn't sleep, or wait, I couldn't and you we're tripping or itching for another trip.
Those few moments in between were really rare and I miss them because I really think we could have lived forever. We shone like stars. You always said that. 'You're my star Mikhail'. It was the only time you used my real name, the rest of the time I was Kitten. Sort of weird and not logical at all but then again you seldom made sense and I got you anyhow, every single thing about you, even driving off the edge. I know you had to.
We effectively ignored the addiction and lived our life around it.
Still I knew, know you loved me. No matter what, to the moon and back, ricocheting from Jupiter and Mars and then back to Earth again, I knew I was the most important thing in your life. The drugs had you caught, but nothing got you as high as I did. It sounds selfish saying it out loud and most say that you can't feel so strong about someone only knowing each others for such a short period of time. It didn't feel short, it felt like forever, and it never faded, not even around the edges. I felt the same about you. I feel the same about you, it's just a little harder when you're not around anymore and they give me too much medication against the pain. I told you everything, and you told me pretty much nothing, but that was alright since I thought we had time and trust is something that sometimes take a while. I know that, but I gave myself to you simply because I had no other way to save myself. I was dying until you came along. With you there I didn't need to cut so deep, I didn't need to bleed a flood, I didn't need stitches each and every day, and who knows if you'd stayed, maybe I wouldn't have needed at all in the end.
But I need now.
We lived more then what anyone else dared to, we did things un-doable, we spoke things un-speakable, and we lived a dream, truly we did. You gave me enough hope to save a world and myself. I wish we could have flown as you said, but we fell - like a brief kiss and a quick fix we only got a few seconds but we made them count and we made them worth everything in the end. So even though the title of or movie might be a sad one, I'm not. I miss you to death of course, I'd kill to get you back, but I also know that sometimes it is better this way. I might be needing, I might be crying, I might be soar and raw from tearing myself apart, but underneath all that I know you saved me. You took the fall.
Note: the line "kiss me, I'm shitfaced" doesn't belong to me. Dropkick Murphy's made that clever one up. Cheers to them! And I am aware that I've used the line " veritas cut into teenage palms" in another story of mine, but it's so pretty, and it fit so right that I had to use it again. I don't mean to glorify neither drugs nor cutting – living is just hard sometimes.