Boulevard of Broken Dreams

Do you Dream too Much?

            "OH MY GOD!"

"What?! WHAT?!" I scramble awake in the depths of my dark room upon hearing my mother's scream. It was only 6 am; the sunlight barely touched my bed.

My attention was frivolously turned to her angered and shocked expression.

"What's wrong?!" I demand confidently.

"LOGAN!" She screams running towards the door.

"Mom?" I tremble in worry. "Mom why are you--?"

It made sense when I had stood up from my bed and felt a little object underneath my foot. I never thought I could make a mistake as careless as the one I had made, especially at a time when I needed to be more cautious than ever.

I looked down at the floor to see approximately 20 pills scattered all over my carpet. My mom must have come in to collect my trash for the week to put out for the garbage men; little did she expect to see my drugs everywhere from last night.

This must have been it. This must have been what Billie was talking about. I was given a very generous extra chance by not only the doctors but my family...and I ruined it.

No tears streamed down my face like usual, but rather a lack of feeling swarmed me. It was a numbing sensation that took over my heart and mind, leaving me disappointed at myself. There was no point in fighting back. It was truly over. I lost the fight.

My father came bolting up the stairs. His lectures were loud and toned with the intent to bring fear, but my face stayed blank. It didn't matter how much he yelled or attempted to figure out my reasoning. Trying to defend myself was even more pointless. It was the first time in a week where I let them reprimand me...I knew I deserved it.

*** *** ***

It was going to be about 15 more minutes until we arrived into the heart of Boston. My parents called the doctors and told them about what happened, and their first recommendation was a rehab center in Boston. I guess it would be worth it. As for me, I just felt stupid. If only it was Wednesday; my mom would have never came close to my room. Or what if after taking that third pill, I simply put the case back in the drawer? This could have all been so easily avoided.

Maybe that was the point. Maybe Billie was right. Maybe subconsciously I wanted to get caught so this whole thing would end. I sure as hell couldn't do it on my own. It was probably that last needed step to bring things full circle. I hope.

After parking and getting situated, my parents and I walked over to a Boston drug treatment center.

"Let's get inside," my father insisted.

It was rather intimidating to enter and realize the reasoning for my presence. For whatever reason, I didn't feel the need to be in a treatment center. My addiction was young and only a few days in. Why couldn't this just be taken care of in my own city?

After examining the room with my eyes, my father continued to speak.

"Let's go get you signed in."

Something was wrong. Whatever it was, I just couldn't stand to be in here. My body temperature raised and this sensation of the need to run away came over me. Call me nervous, but to me, this felt like a moment right before a faint.

"I need to use the bathroom," I mutter.

"Okay honey, we will sign you in. Come right back!" My mom insisted.