(Untitled)

[frakkup]

The day that Kara had been both dreading and yearning for with a morbid kind of anticipation was here. Not only would members of the support group be invited to open up to the others as a whole, but tonight they would meet their sponsors, too. Kara and Sweets had paired everyone as fairly as they could, addict to addict, support to support,

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Re: Testimonials

[number_unlucky]

I didn't know what the deal was with this. I really didn't. I didn't even know why I'd showed up, other than Manhattan Nate (and how was it that I now had to put in labels) had mentioned it and I'd decided maybe it would be a good idea. I didn't even have a goddamn addiction with a definition. I was just fucked up.

Could they drop-kick you out of the group for that?

"Hi," I said after a minute or two. "I'm Remy, and I'm, I guess, an addict to, um, self-destructive behavior...sex, some drugs, never anything consistent but doing messed up stuff all of the time to try to get something really undefinable.

"I guess I always...I always sort of had a tendency to do stupid shit, even as a teenager. I don't know why, maybe I was looking for something because I always wanted to do something amazing in life. Those stupid ideas about adventures that movies put into your head...or maybe I just wanted people to notice me. My mom died when I was twelve, so that was really hard, and my dad was really angry, still is."

I cleared my throat. "So I partied. In college, even in med school, because it made the hard stuff easier to forget about for a while. But I was always a good faker and bloodshot eyes and wrinkled clothes don't get noticed when you're worked like a dog. When I graduated and tried to be a good doctor, it felt like being in a play, but I was doing okay with it until I found out that I had the same illness my mother had. And I was going to die in several years, not right away, but too soon. And I hadn't done anything important, and I was going to start falling apart, physically and mentally. With nothing.

"So I started up again, told myself I was trying to live as much as I could before I died. Instead, I ended up with a one night stand passing out on me and going in the hospital I worked at. We got assigned to her, and I came in and worked when I was still hopped up on E...and my boss, who was an addict himself, saw the signs. He fired me. And I tried so hard to prove that I could get past that and be a great doctor, and I did so he hired me back on. It just wasn't enough of a wakeup call."

I rubbed my forehead and looked at my sandals for a minute. "Waking up here was, hungover, after a night with some girl. But I don't know how to keep fixing it without feeling like I'm acting. I want to try to deal with the hard shit without blocking it. And so I'm looking for help."