I haven’t sleeped a full night since you’ve been gone

I have a really comfy California King. I’ve always been a rough sleeper, I can’t stay still, always tossing and turning. For the past two weeks I haven’t been able to get comfortable. Every morning around 5 I’m up, heart beating like a race horse, sweat pouring from my hair line down my face, and the uncontrollable urge to puke. My heart burns like it has never before.

I should turn my phone off before I go to bed. But I’ll miss his call. I don’t know why I care. He didn’t care when he left me here, he couldn’t even come home from work to tell me his life changing decision. He just left; with none of his clothes, none of what little he had left to his name. 

He left me with the California King we bought 3 years ago together, he left me to deal with the bails bondsman from when he ran from the police in my car back in early June, he left me with more questions than answers. 

Mike is a wild spirt, a lost soul, a fucked up individual; but he was mine. When Danny moved me up to the wrong side of the tracks 5 years ago Mike was there to help me move in. Mike would come over and I thought of him as one of Dicks friends. That young crazy fucker that drank way too much, drove way to wild, and knew too many people who loved drugs.

There was something about you tho, you saw the end of Danny and I. You were there that night he treated me like a dog in front of company, and you were there after my mom finally heard enough of his posin and slap the shit of out him. 

You knew what you were getting into. You were sniffing around for weeks before you made your move. You talked to my sister, she told you my head was fucked up, that I needed time to get over Danny. You didn’t listen. You should have listened to her.

I was living next door to my parents, I had been separated from them for so long while I stayed in the city. The company I kept down there was no good. Every day life with Danny was unbearable, I keep haivng flashbacks and my brain is shaking it’s own head in desperation to not open these wounds… 

Danny was intimidating. He was louder than me, taller than me, bigger than me, and on way more drugs than I. Combine that with Alcohol and countless mental disorders and Danny was a walking time bomb. 

I couldnt ever get wasted drunk, not because of tollerence or personal choice. But because Danny got stupid wasted, he never could keep a license, or a car. I had to make sure I could drive us home, not only to watch out for the assholes on the road, but I had to keep an eye on the one in my passenger seat. 

Drinking and driving is a trigger for me, before I got a car and my license Danny was my primary mode of transportation. He had a 92 Iroc Camaro with a 350 in it, no cat, straight pipes. He got the car before his license. It needed work so after each alteration he would invite me to his house to listen to her purr, or see what new part he had installed. 

Danny lived on the good side of the tracks. He actually lived in the next neighborhood over from me, before the age of 16 we rode the bus together for years. There was a trail in the back of my hood that cut into his. 

It was almost ready, he loved this stupid car. It was white when he bought it but we sanded it down in his yard and he spray painted it gun metal. The rims were already black and he tinted the windows even blacker. It was a beast and sounded like the cars my dad would take us to watch at the racetrack. 

It turned me on, and my love affair with cars started to bloom. The day he got his license I heard him way before I saw him. We lived in a cul-de-sac and the back yard ran along the main road. I was in our pool and remember knowing the second I heard screetching tires Danny was coming for me. Through the fence I saw a blur of dark grey. Red and I hopped out the pool, ran through the house all wet, mom was yelling at us to not dirty up her clean floors and she was questioning what the hell was going on out front.

He was doing doughnuts in the cul-de-sac. Thick smoke filled the air, all you could hear was that engine screaming- I swear it was saying THE BEAST HAS BEEN UNLEASHED 

This made me feel good, Red had been the one that got all the attention from boys primarily. This was my turn. I had Danny, a 6’4, 250lb, green eyed, blonde haired, smooth talking, Camaro driving fuck face here to pick us up. I got into a lot of cars with Red. We went a lot of stupid places with stupid people, Danny was probably the stupidest decision we ever made.

Danny would drive me to and from high school, even though he ended up getting kicked out for fighting middle of sophmore year and was going to the alterative school an hour away, he still made sure when I walked out of school he was there waiting for me. Looking back I don’t know if it was really for me or to impress all our “friends” still in school. 

Red never went to high school, she had issues deeper than mine. Maybe one day it’ll come back to me, but she never liked Danny she tolerated him. He used to say it was because she was a whore and he didn’t want to fuck her so she was jelous of me. Fuck him I have heard that same line as few too many times now, there is more to it. 

Red new Danny before me. His Aunt lived next door to her so he would go over and spend the weekends. Red had a little sister Tina who was gearing up to be a wild one like us. Early on I heard her talk about having a crush on him. I’m sure there is a lot I don’t know. 

I don’t know why I have this insatiable desire to always know every little detail of everything. This has been a problem for a long time, I think people are not who they say they are and their intentions are not what they claim. That people are always telling me what I want to hear and doing the opposite when I’m not around.

I used to fuck Mike’s head all up with accusations. I’m sure he wasn’t a saint but I’m certain I made a lot up in my head.

Half the time Danny wouldn’t even want to leave where we had been at partying. He would pitch a fit like a 5 year old and either start a fight and take off into the woods, lock himself in a room and refuse to come out till I agree to some outrageous negotiation, or plant his ass in a lawn chair with a karaoke machine and bottle of Jack and tune out the world while he talked to himself and kept partying alone. I never knew what to do, it was embarrassing. It usually happened when we were at his childhood best friend Brantleys house.

They were redneck, him and his wife had a few young kids, lived in the country on a few acres, kept 4 wheelers on hand, had guns for days, and threw some badass bonfire parties. I really liked his wife, we experienced a lot together both with our relationship issues and the company we kept. 

Brantleys dad rode a Harley, he always had a leather vest on, he had long hair and a big beard. He drank like a fish but his eyes were always wide open. He didn’t raise Brantley and his siblings. He was around but usually at a biker bar, or in and out of jail. Brantleys grandparents took care of them, they were loaded. Everyone knew he was up to no good, but that didn’t stop Brantley and Danny from looking up to him, from helping him with his dirty work.

Drugs were always around, pot, pain pills, Xanax, cocaine, extasty, heroin, and meth. Back then I didn’t smoke pot, it made me paranoid so I didnt see the attraction. Cocaine was ok, but the come down sucked. Xanax made me feel drunk and if my head was spinning I couldn’t effectively watch my 6, pain pills though-they made me feel numb. I could escape my thoughts of despair and nothingless when I got high. I could clean the entire house, cook dinner, and fuck for hours. It was great!

I’ve been sitting her writing this for the past 3.5 hours with multiple distractions. Shit is probaly spelled all kinds of wrong, I’m all over the place with thoughts, feelings, and memories. Mike missed his court date here and they want a bounty Hunter to go find him, I had a text from the bails bondsman when I woke back up at 9 looking for him. Mike never called me back after the cops rolled up on him last night. I could hear him telling them it was a company vehicle, and to let him explain. He said he would call me right  back. When I woke up at 5:55am I texted him to ask if he was ok. There is a 3 hour time difference so I figured he was sleeping. He isn’t talking to his mom so I keep her updated so she won’t worry. I let her know about the bails bondman and that I didn’t know if he was safe. He texted me at 3pm yesterday his time and he said he was alive, just got off work and was going to learn how to surf. He called me at 6pm and was at bar, we talked for an hour, it felt wrong- but he was so cheerful it made my heart stop hurting briefly. I love it when he talks to me, he has horrible communication skills and I’ve watched him struggle with expressing himself for years. He was drinking, I knew where it would lead but hoped new surroundings and a fresh start would ward off bad behavior. 830pm he calls me, it’s loud he wants my opinion on what song he should Karaoke to. Kid had never Karaoked before, he has social anxiety so I encouraged it, told him to have fun and record it for me. We agreed on Marilyn Mansons beautiful people for his debut. I never got a recording of his rendition. I got a call around 1am here so 10pm acorss the country. I no longer heard bad singing and people cheering in the background, rather he was on a tangent about whopping some skater kids ass. Rambling about he was going to look for him, that the kid had taken a picture of Mike and he felt disrespected. I’ve been here a thousand times before- baby just calm down, everything is ok, just take a deep breath, no one is worth getting this upset over- especially a stanger, just walk away and dont let it bother you. He was miles away, I couldnt look into his eyes and bring him back to reality. Next thing he said was the cops just pulled up, my heart skipped a beat, he started hollering it was a company work truck, I didn’t hear who he was talking to but he started saying something in Spanish to them and told me he would call me back. My last words were be smart. His mom just got a VM from a bails bondsman over there- he is in jail for a DUI. So much for a fresh start Mike…

I wasnt even looking for you, I was looking for drugs. Little did I know you would eventually become my drug.

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Why

Why do I have anxiety? I want to say it’s always been my closest friend even though I never really understood where we were first introduced. 

It must have started back in grade school with butterflies in my stomach. When I was around 12 we moved from a place I never thought we would leave. A place full of family and familiaraity; to what seemed like a whole new world. It was the last year of elementary school, I had amazing friends and a sense of what it was like to be a happy kid. I can’t blame my parents for wanting to move to a new city, and maybe it was the age but trying to fit in where people made you feel like you didn’t at such a coming into your self age riled up those butterflies. 

I don’t remember much from that first year in our new world. I wasn’t alone, I have a few young sister’s and we have a lot of memories from that new house, in that new world, with all those southern people, full of yes ma’am, no sir, sweat tea, beaches, sunshine, gated communities, Friday night football, and judgement. 

It’s like when you aren’t from the south, especially when your a Yankee the southern can smell it. That indimidated me for a very long time. I talked different than everyone else, I looked different than everyone else, and I had different morale beliefs instilled in me by my parents. Church is a really big thing in the south, they’re are more church steeples than Win Dixies and Piggly Wiggly’s combined. My parents didn’t bring us to church, maybe on Christmas Eve once or twice back home but down in the south all my church visited were of my own free will and usually because I had spent night with a friend and part of the deal was I had to go to church Sunday morning. I have faith and believe in God but off of my own life experiences. 

This may be where the rebellion started to show through. I tried to fit in, I wanted to be one of those girls everyone wanted to sit with at lunch, you know the girls with the pretty hair, that get all the attention for being so beautiful. My perpetual resting bitch face and hatred for being transported to this humid ass hell hole must have ruined that for me. I never was Miss Popular, I didn’t sit at the cool table, and it hurt. The friends I did end up making we sort of in the same situation as me. They were from different states usually, they looked different, acted different, and looking back they may have been from broken homes, but I didn’t care who was I to judge.

 My parents may have been a little relaxed with the trust they extended to me during my upbringing. I was the oldest, the emo one, the first to experience life. Looking back I had this one friend from about 13 years old untill about 23 that honestly I don’t know how we didn’t end up on the back of a milk carton. She was two years older than me, when your 13 and your best friend gets to experience big milestones first like 16, 18, and 21 you get treated like your older and I liked it.

It was also around this time that my body started changing. Now this friend lets call her Red, she was a bad bitch to a 13 year old. She smoked Newports, wore a ton of make up, and always had boy drama. She was everything I was looking for. Now I lived on what you would call the good side of the tracks, even though there was no railroad tracks deffineing the determination from the two, Red lived on the wrong side of tracks which is where I’m going to stop for now. Join me next time as we explore the dark side…

Welcome to my dark side

Unfortunately I do not have cookies. I actually have this prepetutal feeling I’m on the verge of exiling the pit of my stomach. 

Hi my name is Tallahasee and I’m a tragedy addict. I’m not even really sure myelf what that means, but I feel as we continue down this road together that may make more sense soon. 

Also for all legality purposes the names of the individuals involved in this tragic love story have been changed to protect their identity. 

I should also be sure to add a parental advisory warning. I like to use a variety of colorful words to describe my dark reality so this blog is for mature audiences only, this is your courtesy warning.

I own no rights to any of the music reviewed in this blog. Please make sure to support your local music scene. Only you can prevent shitty music.