shawn mendes imagines

addiction

He loved it. He loved the high. The head rush nicotine gave him, the lack of control unprescribed Xanax consumed him with, how the eight shots of whiskey burned the flesh of his throat, later aiding in drowning the memories of a life he hated.

But only you knew that. Only you knew the Shawn that would sprint off stage with a smile so big, you'd almost think it was real - but, you knew it wasn't. Only you knew the Shawn that, once safe in the car with you after a show, would itch at his pale wrists, foot bouncing up and down so quickly, just looking at it made your head spin. You wondered how much longer he could last until he pounded a shaky, sweaty fist at the back of the drivers seat, demanding he stop at the nearest liquor store. He would make you rush in, buy the biggest bottle of vodka they had, and the moment you stepped back in the car, half of it was already down his throat.

Sometimes you timed how long it would take him before he went into withdrawal. Sometimes you timed your own self, how much longer would you put up with this? How much longer could you see Shawn destroy himself? How much longer until you took the palm of your tired hands, and slapped him until there was some life back into the man you loved? Because right now, as you watched him drown in the sticky, potent liquor, as it spilled over the top and onto his pink, swollen lips, as it's stench polluted every inch of his frail figure, you lay next to him and rub his thigh, almost encouragingly.

At this point, he only really ever listened to you. And even then, that was an overstatement. So maybe, just maybe, if you told him no - no, you won't go to the gas station at three in the morning to buy him a new pack of cigarettes, as the pack he just finished lay on the foot of a bed he hasn't moved from in the last 48 hours, and no, you won't lie to his mom when she sits you down and begs you to tell her if her baby boy is drinking again, because how the hell would she know? Shawn refuses to even say her name anymore.

Love is crazy, is it not? Hell, sometimes it doesn't even fucking make sense. How you can love somebody so badly, so deeply, that you can watch them practically kill themselves, and not say a single word. How you can love somebody so much, you can be the instigator of their addictions - addictions that are tearing them apart, piece by piece. Because, at the end of the day, as you lay next to him, passed out drunk, cool fingers wiping away the half dried tears left on his flushed cheeks, you'd like to think that it's just temporary.

Because you know Shawn. You knew him before the drugs and alcohol took him away from you. So you hold on to it. You hold on to that memory with every fiber of your being, because it's all you have left. You are all that he has left. And maybe, in some world, thats all the two of you really need.

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I haven't updated in 3 years. Hello.

I will not be updating regularly, but I recently have been getting back into writing and came up with this little random short blurb, which I wrote in about 20 minutes, as I was feeling a little sad today.

I opened this app today after nearly 4 years and saw my book as over 1 million reads. I see all of your comments, all of the love you guys have given my work. It brings me so much joy that my writing is so appreciated, and I wish I had the time to update like I used to, write like I used to, but life is crazy y'all.

I plan on writing weird shit that doesn't make sense, like this, as often as I can - it helps me get some emotions off my very heavy chest.

So yes. That is all. Much love.

Myrah <3