sophia-vw2:

gabriel-xx2:

He kissed her cheek and nodded. “So you know about everything except what was going on when I was eighteen and nineteen. Those two years are still kinda blurry, they were horrible.”

“Tell me,” she said softly, running her fingertips over his cheek. 

He pulled her closer, humming softly. “I was still trying to cope with Anne Marie’s death, and I was trying to cope with becoming a dad, and those two things happened so close together, I didn’t handle it well. I was already depressed but those things made it a lot worse. I stared drinking more and doing a lot of drugs, I went from using only pot, to using everything I could get my hands on, I didn’t care what it was. I didn’t care about the risk of overdosing, I didn’t care about whether I died or not, that’s what I was hoping would happen. I shot up a lot of heroin and snorted a few lines of coke and I got on the roof at home and almost jumped off it. The day after that, I packed my stuff and ran away again. I left Amelie, I left everyone I loved. I didn’t know where I was going until I got there. I was in Nevada in some town right outside of Vegas and I stayed there for a while, I had access to drugs there. I got arrested so many times while I was there. But any hour of the day or night I could get what I wanted, and my usage kept increasing until I overdosed in the middle of a casino. After that when I woke up in a hospital a few days later, I pulled my IVs out and just left without saying a word to anyone. Again, I had no idea where I was going, I didn’t care. I had hit rock bottom and I needed to pull myself out of that. I got off the plane I was on and found out I was in Tennessee. I stayed in a hotel until I could get an apartment near Nashville. I didn’t have any furniture or even a bed in the apartment, I was sleeping on a blowup mattress and using my laptop to watch tv if I wanted to. I stayed in there for two weeks going through withdrawals. It was horrible. The landlord thought I had died until my neighbors told him that they heard noises from inside my apartment. When I finally started leaving the apartment again, I started playing music with some people in a bar whenever they had mic night, and one night I met some guy there. We talked for a while and he asked me if I’d come out to church with him the next day and I said yes. I didn’t even know this guy’s name. I started believing in god again after I went back to church, which is why I still go now. He told me to come to church with him and then go back to my apartment and pack my bags, then go back home to my family. I asked people there if they knew the guy I met, I even asked the preacher, but none of them had ever seen him. I wanted to thank the guy, but I couldn’t find him. I never saw him again until I got back to Jersey. I got off the plane and was walking to the bus stop and I saw him on the other side of the street. He just smiled and turned a corner, and when I tried to follow him he was no where to be found. I don’t know what he was, or if he was even real, but he’s the reason I went back home. I wasn’t going to until he told me that’s what I needed to do. Those two years were fucked up and weird.”