New Year, New Me

Coffee. So much coffee.

Last night was the end of the year. I went to a party at Squares, the club I found years ago way down in the center of the city. I drank... a lot. Some guy was giving out some kind of little pills, I don't even know what they were. Of course I took one. I remember kissing someone at the countdown: who knows who it was. Next thing I know, I'm rolling over in a strange bed next to some admittedly hot girl with brown hair sighing as I try to sneak out the door.

I almost didn't go last night. I really shouldn't have. Chloe had been wanting to go for two months now, though. She had the whole thing planned out. Gods, I don't even know what happened to her last night! Why am I such a mess?

I pull out my phone and look at my messages. Shit... She messaged me five times last night. Her last message just said to text her when I can to let her know I'm safe. I need to say something to her. I start typing the only thing I can think of. Gods, my head hurts.

Hey babes. I'm so sorry. I got carried away again. I'm okay tho. Hbu?

While I'm giving the barista my order, I hear my text tone.

I'm good. Wtf happened to you last night?

I couldn't answer that if I tried. I muddle through the best explanation I can, and hit send. It takes a minute, then I look down again when I hear the tone.

Okay, whatever. It's fine. I was just worried.

Shit, she's mad at me now. The barista gives me my coffee and I head out the door to the street. Where the hell am I? I don't recognize any of these streets. Tell me I'm at least close to home, magic map app. I open the Lyft app. It's going to be a $40 ride. I don't have that. Not after last night. I start going through my contacts list to see if I can borrow the money to get home. Dammit, all I want to do is get home! I send messages to three people when I get another text from Chloe.

Hey, where are you? You need money for a ride?

Dammit. I really don't want to ask her. But so far, she's the only one who's answered. I've got $25 after that coffee. This coffee is NOT good enough to be $7, even with a tip. I respond saying I'll need $15 to make it home. I'm worthless.

As I wait for the Lyft, I go back in the coffee shop and sit at one of the tables. I can't help but wonder what brought me to this. I was going to be great. I was "gifted". I was going to be a badass business woman, owning my own brand of... something. But I met Cassandra, that gorgeous, amazing girl in my College Algebra class that would look at me, then look away when she saw me glancing at her stare. We started dating not long into the second month of class. She was the first girl I ever kissed. She was the first for a lot of things. Then I brought her home for Thanksgiving. We got caught in my room one night, and the next day was the Talk, beginning with the phrase that's just like what we all say at some point when we come out: "Mom, Daddy... Cassandra's not just a friend. She's my girlfriend. I'm a lesbian." That's when the fight started. That fight turned into our heading back to campus before the holiday dinner. Then it turned into many other fights. Then silence. I haven't spoken to my family in three years now. I was cut off, and couldn't pay tuition. It didn't work out between Cassandra and I. I moved in with my best friend, Chloe.

The Lyft arrives, and I climb in. The driver isn't a talker. I stare out the window at the buildings passing by. People flash by faster than if I were swiping through Tinder without looking. I can't help but think of the past year. It's clichéd, I know.

After I moved in with Chloe, things started to look up. I lucked out and got a job at an insurance company downtown. Chloe was so happy for me when I told her I came out to my parents. She'd been open about her bisexuality since fucking High School. Her parents were cool about it. But I guess that's why my parents hated her so much. Gods, they probably think she influenced me to be a lesbian or something. The thought pisses me off and makes me chuckle to myself at the same time. Should've told them Chloe made me eat Cassandra out upstairs when they walked in. Oh my gods, that's so stupid. Sure, Chloe made me love the taste of a girl. Made me feel warm and safe and loved by being wrapped in a girl's arms. Made girls' lips taste like sugared cherries. Made me get all hot when I'd see the cheerleaders dance at high school games. The only influencing being done was my own hate for myself for thinking like that. My shame. My thinking that there was something wrong with me for thinking boys kisses tasted like dirty, wet laundry or for not appreciating their attention when they were treating me like a used condom when they were done with me. Fuck that. Fuck all of that.

Chloe took me in because she's a good friend, even if I'm not. She introduced me to her friends. I met friends of my own. Even got a girlfriend or two over the years. My family still hated me. Oh, they'd swear they love me still. Every once in a while, I'd get either a message from someone pleading me to repent "before it's too late", or other times a message just telling me what a sinner I am, and that I should respect my parents or whatever. "Love the sinner, hate the sin", or whatever. And no, I don't believe it's me they hate: but what I am, or rather... what I represent. To them, I'm a traitor. I'm dirty. I'm broken. I'm the enemy -- it's not me they still love. It's the person they wanted me to be. The person I showed them because of fear of... Well, this. Godsdammit, I'm sitting here in a Lyft, heading home off borrowed money because I got too wasted last night and ended up on the opposite side of the city with some girl I don't even recognize. This is exactly what they feared for me. I'll admit, it's even what I was afraid of. Is this God punishing me?

I snort at the thought. I mean, even if that were true, then how is God any different from any man I've ever dated. He's manipulator, using techniques like gaslighting and torture to manipulate me into doing what he wants me to do. Fuck, that's not love. That's not concern. That's abuse. And that's exactly what my godsdammed family has been doing to me all my life. And where did it get me? I was set up well, don't get me wrong. I had a so-called glittering future ahead of me because of their manipulations, their indoctrinations, and their "help". But fuck, I was miserable -- more than I am even now. At least now I'm miserable as me. I'm free to be miserable.

But I don't want to be--miserable, I mean. I don't like this. I'm not happy Hell, I'm not really even free like this. But it's not my fault! They abandoned me. They turned me into this self-loathing, people-pleasing, worthless on her own bitch, and then made me feel like I was a piece of trash far worse than any of the shitheads I dated have. They betrayed me. And when I didn't do what they wanted, they discarded me. Less than human. That's what I am. A worm. A worthless, useless, fucking pointless life that is wasted.

The car slows to a halt at a busy intersection, and I look out the window. There's two people sitting on a bench, sipping coffee together. One with long, blonde hair turns to another with short, pink hair and so many amazing looking piercings, and they gaze into each others eyes before they settle into a long, passionate kiss.

It doesn't have to be this way.

Let's face it, Britt--You don't want to be miserable. You don't have to be. Hell, you don't choose to be, either. Things have just gotten out of control. You let go of the wheel. There ain't no Jesus to take it for you. Of course you're driving out of control.

Things have got to change. I have got to change. I've got to take it back.

Fuck this. Fuck all of it. I'm smart enough to know what I need to do. It's going to start with getting my mind in order. I can't afford therapy, and don't have insurance to get it. So, before I can get therapy, I need a job. That should also let me get more control of other things. Maybe even help Chloe with the rent. But I have to put my mental health first. I need help. I need to get my hands back on the wheel of my life, and then put the rest in order as I work on that, as I can.

I lost my job at the insurance company eight months ago. Came in one morning on a hangover, then came in high as fuck the next and got caught. So they let me go. Guess that's the first thing. Luckily, I'm only an alcoholic. Not really hooked on anything else, or that would be first order of business. Right now, I've just got to sober up and stay that way. No more drunken parties and shit. Next is a job. I open up the Indeed app on my phone. Need to update my resume. Maybe Chloe can help with that.

Oh, gods... Chloe. If she's even still talking to me! I switch apps and text her.

Chloe, I'm sorry. I'm not okay. I need help. I should be home in 16. Can we talk?

I hit send--or at least I hope I did. It's hard to tell through these tears for sure till I see the blue bubble appear on the screen. I hear the tone, and begin to sob, loudly.

Of course. I'm here for you Britt, always. Just get home safe. Love you bitch.

"Ma'am? Are you okay?"

I look up at the driver, tears running down my face, smearing mascara like I was in a seventies rock band. I try to speak, but it comes out only as a sobby, squeaky string of almost words:

"No... But I think I will be."