even if he falls.

left alone.

Another depressing chapter sorry. Finding ways to extend this story to at least 25 chapters and I thought I'd take this route. Sorry if you don't enjoy it, I know shit is getting rough to read but stick with me.

Mark was away to record some stuff with Travis and took the kids with him so they could play with Landon and Bama. I was alone in the house for close to a month and no matter how many calls and cute texts I get from Mark and the kids, I can feel myself going fucking insane.

I set my guitar down on the couch next to me. I was frustrated with my current lack of creativity. All the riffs I thought up had been done before or sounded too close to call my own. Lyrically, it was a drought. It went from a healthy waterfall to an empty riverbed.

I took off my old and sweaty shirt and threw it next to me. I don't know why really but I needed change. I went to the kitchen and took out the box of leftover pizza, sticking a few slices in the microwave and waiting impatiently for the timer to off. I tapped my thumbs against the counter and watched as the numbers counted down, each second feeling like at least a minute. I pulled it out when a second was left starting stuffing the pizza in my mouth. I drank soda straight from the bottle and shoved handfuls of barbecue flavored chips down my throat. 

I threw away the remains and went up to the bathroom. I took a piss and zipped up. As I was walking out I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I stopped completely. Dead in my tracks. I turned and got closer to the full body mirror. I looked myself up and down. MY belly stuck out, my pants barely fit, I hadn't bothered to shave since they left, my hair was greasy and in the end I just looked gross. 

How did I let myself get this way, I asked myself over and over again. 

I slid down to the bathroom floor, looking at my body and feeling absolutely dreadful. It was ugly. I had never been a super fit guy but I was average and now even that seems long gone. 

I'm 34 years old for fucks sake. How did I let myself get this way. 

*Trigger Warning*

I reached behind the toilet and looked for the tape. After feeling around for a minute I ripped the tape off and set it in my lap. An old blade stay stuck to the duct tape. I hadn't pulled this out in years. To think it used to be my best friend. I pulled my pants down to rest at my knees and pulled my boxers up my thighs. Old messy scars coated my legs and these were scratches that you couldn't blame on the cat. Most of them were faded and lay flat against my skin, others raised and angry but not many were like that.  

I just want Mark, I said to myself as tears began to roll down my cheeks, I miss him so much.

I pulled the blade off of the tape and played with it in my hands. 

10 more days, I said to myself. You can make it 10 more days. 

Mark was coming home in 10 days. I could make it 10 days. That was rational. Only about a thousandth of me was saying that, the rest wants to meet the old friend. 

A few won't hurt anybody.  

I pressed the blade against my skin and dragged across my thigh, the familiar sting made my nerves tingle and jump. I missed this feeling. 

I repeated the action over again and that was it. I stuck the blade back to the tape and put it in its hiding place. I got up carefully, my thighs sore and red beads still dripped out of the open wounds. I put an ace bandage over each thigh and threw my pants down the laundry shoot. 

I headed downstairs and took a bottle of wine from the refrigerator, not bothering to grab a glass. I sat in the island in the kitchen and popped the cork open. I took a big gulp of the dark liquid and put my head down. All I wanted was for Mark to be home. I should have just gone with him. He came with me on tour for a little under 2 months, I could have been with him at Travis's for a month.