Page 205 of Tell Me I'm Enough

She stands there stunned, like the words don’t register fully.

My head spins from the alcohol, and I can barely keep myself up, but I push the words out anyway. “I know exactly how this ends,” I continue with no filter. “Either you don’t feel the same, and I get hurt—or you do, and I fuck it all up eventually anyway. Either way, I lose. You lose. This whole thing was a mistake.”

Her face crumples.

“That’s not fair,” she whispers.

“Maybe not, but it’s the truth.”

“You say that like I’m so easily disposable. Like this was just—”

“It was just lust,” I snap. “We were horny. That’s it.”

The lie tastes like blood, and I hate the way it feels spilling out.

But that’s what I am to everyone, right? Some horny college guy that sticks it in everything that moves. Not someone that has fucking feelings.

She shakes her head, backing toward the door. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

I don’t.

She reaches for the handle, and I grab her wrist. “Wait.”

She turns back to me, tears streaking down her face. “Please…just let me go. We can talk when you’re sober.” She pauses, giving me a look of disdain and disappointment. “If you can manage.”

That one hurts.

She slips out of my grasp and walks away, the door closing behind her.

I’m left standing in the bathroom with the sink still dripping, and the mirror reflecting someone I don’t recognize. I guess the costume is pretty fitting, though. Ifeellike a prisoner. In my own head, in this damn life, in the fucking performance I’m always putting on.

I just want to feel normal for once. That’s all. That’s all I’m ever searching for.

Normal.

I walk out of the bathroom, slamming the door closed, and grab two of the closest bottles I see, walking upstairs to my room for the night. If I can’t have normal, I’d rather have quiet. I’d rather forget about the one person who makes me feel alive—who just walked out on me.

I keep drinking until my throat burns and begs me to stop. And even then, I keep going, wanting it to hurt. The warmth spreads through my body, and my beating heart finally starts to slow.

I feel like I’m constantly chasing that first taste of relief alcohol gave me all those years ago.

I can never quite reach it anymore…but I keep trying.

What other option do I have?

45

Simone

Somehow, Lydia convinced me to take as many classes together as possible this year that we could, which means a lot of psychology and criminal justice courses that align with her new social work major. Granted, I’m more than happy to spend as much time with her as possible, especially with being so busy with Greek life, the law firm, and other schoolwork.

After everything that happened at the end of the last school year, I really just want to be around her as much as possible. Plus, with my mind set on law school, it doesn’t really matter what I major in, just as long as my grades are strong and my classes can build the skills I will need that law school cares about.

So here I am, 8 AM on a Thursday, taking Sociology of the Family, sitting next to Lydia, who looks just as exhausted to be here.

So far, I haven’t hated the class. It’s been pretty interesting to learn about a lot of the ways our childhood affects us—especially when trauma is involved. It’s given me even more understanding and empathy for Lydia and people who have gone through similar experiences growing up.