(no subject)

Jun 18, 2004 09:55

Trevor last came riding upon his white stallion galloping through the exit doors of a rehabilitation center and swooping me into a saddle bound for sober horizons. A month into the journey now, his armor is rusty, the horse is dead, and my ass is sore.
At the moment he's lying in a bed writhing in pain and hallucination, a dog with all his legs shot off, and not a pill to sooth him. I can do nothing for him. He wants to quit cold turkey. I made him a promise to let the fish flop out of water, gills goin' crusty, and hell I have to stick to it now.
A promise is a contract binding someone to be more devoted to your past self than your present self. Not sure I agree with such a thing. I mean really, is there ever a future you can be certain of your best interest in (I mean besides being cremated or buried)?

I suppose this is the best for him now though. We havent any better option. devastation is a great tool for changing men anyhow. His father's suicide sure did a number on him. If this is even half as effective, he'll be sober the rest of his life. HIs sobriety is mine... in more ways than one.

Oh and the other day m sitting in my car outside of Lo's apartment complex when Lo apears in my window panting and covered in blood. Says something about adam needing to go to the hospital and I take off running, forgetting to roll the windows up. next day my car is empty but for a few random articles. needlesstosay they took my cell phone so dont bother calling it anymore. instant Messenger. email.
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