The rain is beating against the windsheild, I can't see it though, I'm too high. Dale is driving, he's my best buddy on the road, I've known him for years. He's giving me a lecture and I'm trying to listen but I want to nod off, it takes everything I have to keep my head up. I took too many fucking Perc's again.
I stop trying to focus on him or the beads of rain on the windsheild. What started out as a conversation has turned into a fucking rant by Dale, I'm getting mad.
"It's one thing to party and have a good time, look at you? You're fucking killing yourself!" He says.
I tell him to "Go fuck himself!", I try to point out that he's no fucking better but my arguments are weak and I know it, Dale does his job, I've been dead weight for awhile now. I'm only around because the boss likes me, and believes I'll straighten up, but that's quickly fading, people talk, I'm a fuckup.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I don't even know you anymore, and other people say the same thing, you don't give a fuck about anybody, and everyone has to do your fucking job for you!"
His voice is bouncing around in my head, echoing, and he's right, I don't give a fuck, I'm about to pass out. My head falls against the window and I can barely make out the landscape through the side window, I can feel drool running down the side of my face, I wipe it away with my sleeve.
He ends his lecture quietly with "Somebodys gonna find you dead in your fucking bunk, or on the lot somewhere"
My mind goes back about 600 miles and two stops ago. Stacey and I are behind one of the trailers and she's yelling at me about not caring, about my being high "All the fucking time!", destroying myself, and not giving a fuck about her or us. I smile at her, I can't feel what she wants me to feel, I get nervous and smile, she smacks me hard in the mouth twice and turns and walks away crying. I'm numb.
There's blood coming from my lip and I wipe it away as I watch her get in the van with the rest of the crew. I know I love her but I can't feel anything most of the time anymore, I'm to high. I can't stop.
The truck hits a bump on the highway and my head bangs against the window, it snaps me back to the present. The window feels cold. I grab my jacket and use it as a pillow. The last thoughts I have as I lose consciousness are questions.
Is "Everybody" wrong? Am I really that fucked up? Deep down I know the answers though.