Decisions for Withdrawal (Alice in Chains)

Unconditional Love

I am the luckiest asshole in the world. I made a shit-load of money playing guitar, one of my passions that I had since abandoned. I had the most exciting 20's anyone could ever have. I saw a different city every night doing everything I dreamed of. What did I do with it all? I threw it all away. I traded all that happiness for junk. Every time the venom seeped into my skin I expected to be happier in just a few seconds. I expected my life to return to as amazing as it once was. By the end of the day, when Olivia got home, I felt so low, lower than dirt. I'd lost everything. I lost my friends and every cent I'd ever made.

Olivia did everything for me. She contributed 100 percent to the roof over my head and the food in the fridge. Every night, her pretty smile faded more and more. She tried so hard to hold herself together, and me together. I couldn't even do that for myself.

One night, she came home exhausted. I hated myself for making her work so hard at a job she hated. I knew how much she hated waitressing and I knew she had other things she wanted to do with her life. She gave everything up like I did, except she was doing it because she cared about me. I was doing it because I was an asshole. The love in our relationship seemed like it was one-way all the time, and I desperately tried to change that. I wanted to return the love, because I really did love her. I appreciated her sacrifice and her unconditional love. A great fear of mine was that she was going to add a condition to our relationship and that she would give me an ultimatum.

"Hey Liv," I said, kissing her. "How was work?"

"Good," she said, twirling her long, jet black hair.

She always did that when she was lying. Her shirt was stained in something red, probably ketchup. She was still so damn beautiful. To me, though, it might as well have been blood. She was hurting, mentally and emotionally. She knew what I did everyday, and on this particular day, I really let her know how bad it was.

"Liv?"I muttered, almost too embarrassed to ask.

My shame wasn't as strong as the addiction. She motioned her head up to look at me as she sat down in a kitchen chair, rolling her ankles a bit. They always hurt at the end of the day from being on her feet for double-shifts.

"I need some money."

The look on her face crushed me. She was crushed. She made her way to the liquor cabinet.

"I just need like two-hundred bucks."

She got out a glass and a bottle of whiskey. She didn't drink as much before I started doing that to her. "Two hundred bucks is a lot, Jer. Do you know how many fuckin' tables that is?"

She wasn't as angry as I thought she would be. I guessed she was hiding it. I walked away.

"Wait," she said, pulling out her checkbook from her purse and writing a check. "Here."

"Thank you, baby," I said, squeezing her tight and kissing her. "You're the best."

She sighed as she ripped it out.

That single rip felt like she was ripping out a piece of her heart and giving it to me.

"It's only because I love you," she said.

"I love you too."

I watched her from the couch a bit later. She was hard at work again, doing laundry, right after she cooked us both dinner at around midnight. Yeah, I fuckin' sat home everyday, all day and did nothing. I couldn't even do a load of laundry or cook her dinner. In fact, I only contributed more to the laundry. I was throwin' up several times a day, whether I shot up the drugs or not. I wished I could help her more. I wished I could do just one thing right. I wished I could take off a lot of the pressure she was dealing with, but I couldn't. My demons locked me in the cage all day and only let me out when Olivia wasn't there with me, or to show me how badly I had suffocated her.

Sometimes I wondered if she really loved me. Of course, she did so much but at a certain point it felt like she was doing it because she had to, like she felt guilty. I felt guilty. Often I'd catch her looking at the ring on her finger. I had made a promise to her two years before that we'd get married. I could never forget the look on her face when she accepted my proposal. I almost forgot what it looked like. The face I saw at this point was sadness, exhaustion and quite a bit of fear. She cried every night in her sleep and I cried every day, wishing I could choose a different life. I'd choose something boring...any nine to five job would have done me well.

If she left, I'd be lost. She's my girl and I feared that someday she'd run away with a guy she actually deserved and be his girl. The thought hurt. It hurt really, really bad. If she left I might as well be dead.