A Match into Texas (Mike Fuentes Fanfic)

21

May 18'18

Happy Birthday to me.

Self Destruction is such a pretty little thing. 

And there's something horrible romantic about my pretty little scars. 

I'm not upset over the doctor thing anymore. I mean, I never wanted kids to begin with, frankly. I'm not fit to be a mom, anyway. I'm a mess. What would I raise them on, hardcore music and gourmet cooking? It's not like anyone would want to have kids with me anyway. 

I've slipped back into old habits. A relapse, I guess. And I would feel guilty, but the music that kept me alive all these years has suddenly started to feel empty. The bands I idolized are no longer mystical beings or me to fantasize about. They're real people, with problems and flaws like anyone else. I no longer have anything to believe in. I can't pretend that the people I put all my faith into are actually perfect, because I've seen their imperfections firsthand. It's almost like seeing a god, and realizing that they are no more remarkable than the people who you never viewed as anything extraordinary. You can still love them, but you love them as a real person, not as a figure to admire and revere. 

Sure, part of me still loves Mike. He was the first person I had been able to love, ever. I had never been able to love. I could care about people, and I could like them. Sure, that's easy. You can give affection, and it's alright if you don't get it back, because being caring doesn't require anything in return. Loving someone is different. Loving someone with all your heart is dangerous. 

Love is a paradoxical feeling. On one hand, you want the person to be happy. You never want to see them cry because every tear that falls from their eye is a blow to your heart. You want to see them smile every minute of every day. But, on the other hand, you want to be the reason for their smile. The selfless drive goes against that of the selfish, and they are frequently out of balance. Some people love selflessly, some love selfishly. I have no faith in the idea that I will make Mike happy. I don't make anyone happy, I never had. But I want him to be happy because he deserves that more than anyone. 

I know what I'm doing. I've done it for years. I don't care about myself, but I care about people whom I shouldn't. I care about Mike. I doubt I would care if he got married within the next week, I already know I'm not worth it, so I would be glad that he found someone who is. 

He has found someone, apparently. His ex- girlfriend from all those years ago, Frenchie, I think her name was? Pierce The Veil had a section in Alt Press again, there was a nice picture of the two of them kissing. She's lovely. I'm glad they make each other happy. 

I was going the bar, it's about 8:30 pm on Thursday night. I've graduated, I've managed to make it to the end of the year. I haven't talked to another person for about a month, not even Lyd. I had moved off campus and was staying at the same hotel I had met Mike in. Same room, in fact. As luck would have it, it had been the only room available, and I didn't argue. Only good memories there, anyway. 

I had dug up my old prescription for the anti- depressants I had been on when I was younger, and had managed to get my hands on a good thirty of them. They didn't help anymore than they had before, but they were comforting to have around. 

Tonight was the night. No one had even bothered to see if I was ok, after talking to absolutely no one for a month and talking rarely before that. I didn't want to keep going anymore. I wanted it to end, it would be easier for everyone. 

But there was no reason to kill myself when I was sad. I wanted to die happy, even if it was a substance euphoria. That is why I was going to the bar. I'll get tipsy, drive back to my revolting hotel room with all my junk strewn across the floor. And then I'd do it. What better day to die than the day I was born?