Yes, I did not think my first time in therapy would send me to the bar either, but I was not fully aware of what I was walking into. Apparently.

It was like a really bad joke… Anxiety ridden girl walks into the bar, bartender asks what brings her in…. Oh, you know, my therapist thought this was a good idea.

Well… she was wrong.

I feel like this needs a little more explanation… let me back up just a tad. I started therapy recently thinking it would help me to feel more in control of my life. Boy… I was wrong. My therapist seems to think my problem is I need to meet more people, you know get out there and broaden my horizons. I don’t think she knew exactly who she was telling to broaden her horizons.

Coincidently the girls at work asked me to have drinks with them on Friday night. I thought, wow this could be a good opportunity… broaden those horizons.

It started okay. We started the night at a fun local place… we sat outside around a mini fire pit, ordered different foods and made fun of the drinks we each ordered. Then… the shots started to be bought. I don’t know why people think…. I buy you a shot - you must drink it. Hell no ! Don’t buy me the shot then… I didn’t ask for it ! But the people pleaser I am… I drank them. All three shots !

Well, then the bar hopping came up. It was time to move this party to a country western bar so they could dance. Let me just tell you, I do not dance. Or should I say I can’t dance. It’s not in me… no molecule in my body is made to dance! But three shots in Lora… she thinks its a good idea to go to a country western bar.

So I’m closing out my tab at the first bar… and then trench coat guy comes up. Order’s himself a water and turns to me. “What’s your name?” Oh hell no! This is the guy that is trying to pick me up…. REALLY !?!

Well of course I froze… didn’t know what name to give him and didn’t know what to do. Do I give him my real name, do I give him a fake name, well then what fake name do I give. Well… why don’t I just tell him I’m not interested, yes I should do that. Oh god, he’s staring at me, how long has this inner monologue been going on. Great, now I look like I’m crazy. Thankfully one of the girls came up and saved me… but come on… trench coat guy! Why me. My self worth shrunk to nothing.

Here comes the best part… we ended up at a table at the country western bar, and of course me without an ounce of dancing in me decided to table sit while the rest of the group went dancing. Well… mistake number two! I ended up babysitting one of the girls moms ! Yes, I said Mom.

She was drunk out of her mind… and cornering me with sad stories. Of course I became her therapist for the night… the poor woman needed a friend to talk to! Why F******g me.

Let’s say the spreading of my horizon’s stopped this night. I get it…. I need to go out, try new things. But bar hopping…. I’m checking that one off my list. No thank you. I would much rather be curled up at home with a book than being picked up by trench coat guy and babysitting my friends mom.

I hope my cautionary tale of broadening your horizons brought a smile to your face… because when I need a good laugh… I just think of this night.

I am going to start blogging my adventures of this broadening of my horizons. Hopefully one day I can look back on them and see how much I have grown from them… or at least get a good laugh. Hopefully they will brings some chuckles your way as well.

- until the next adventure

This line for water.

This line for toilet tissue.

This line for kindness.

I was fourth in line for your kindness today. In a world where lines are forming to meet our daily human needs, it seems humanity has forgotten the most important line to form… kindness.

You see, you did something so small, so minor, I’m afraid you have already forgotten what you’ve done.

As you where wondering down the grocer isle, you came upon a woman distraught from not being able to meet her families basic need for toilet tissue. In your compassion, you handed over yours stating, “You seem to need this more than me.” But you see, I didn’t witness your kindness, I was fourth in line.

Another human (the second in line) witnessed your act of kindness and was so touched that she shared it with her banker (the third in line) when she sat. That banker, so touched by your kindness shared with me, (now fourth in line.)

I have been touched by your kindness, in this time where I truly felt our humanity was waning, and hard to find. I promise you kind stranger, your kindness is not forgotten. Though we may never meet, Thank You. You restored my faith in my fellow humans and I now know there is still a line for kindness.

You see that’s the thing no one tells you about being dead, I always thought when ghosts were depicted as see-thru beings that they could at least see themselves. I can’t. As I look down at what should be my hands, I see nothing but the floor. Although I don’t feel any physical pain, I can literally feel my heart shattering over and over again. I should leave this room, I should try and find ‘the light’ I guess, but the masochist inside of me can’t tear my eyes from the scene unfolding in front of me. I can feel myself drifting as I contemplate why I may not feel physical pain, but my chest feels like it is being ripped open, again and again. I guess heartbreak has more to do with the soul than the body.

The rustling of sheets draws my attention back to the bed. The bed that my enemy and once-fiancé consummated their marriage in.

The same bed that my enemy just murdered my once-fiancé/her new husband in on their wedding night.

The bed that my enemy is now wrapping my once-fiancé’s body up in sheets.

The bed that my once-fiancé metaphorically made for himself when he murdered me.

You see that’s the thing about Karma. It’s a bitch, and apparently it’s the bitch he married.

Have you ever thought of not writing anymore? Have any of you ever had a moment in time where you wondered, 'Is this something that I should even be attempting?' This has been my life these past few weeks. I'm not sure where this seed of doubt entered my mind or even how it did, but this has been my struggle presently. I even tried to stop writing, just to see if I could... well let's just say it was the worst week of my life. I found that even though I wasn't putting pen to paper, my mind would wander and I would be mentally noting the story even if subconsciously. 

This is my question for theprose.com world. Have you ever thought of not writing anymore? 

“This rounds on me.” I mumble to Mike, slapping him on the shoulder hard for the smart ass remark that just popped out of his mouth. His comeback is gone in the roar that is Molly’s Pub, not like it would have been a good one, anyways.

Putting myself between a blonde and redhead at one end of the bar, I give the bartender the universal sign for another round. Waiting for our drinks at the overcrowded bar, I breathe in the familiar scent of alcohol and greasy pub food. After some of the shittiest of days we’ve found ourselves at Molly’s for their beer and endless fish and chips, which is how I ended up here tonight.

I feel the blonde’s hand wrap around my forearm, turning to her I can see she’s in for some fun. To call what she has on clothes would be overkill, any man in this bar can see miles of tan sexy legs and endless long blonde hair. Unfortunately while I am staring at the blondes rack she tries to speak as well.

“…..s your nammme, hot …..tuf?” Good thing she has a hold of my arm or she would be on the floor by now.

Thank god for bartenders. While I’m checking my wtf expression, he appears just then with my drinks. Instead of giving him a tip of ‘be quicker next fucking time,’ I decide for his good timing to give him an actual tip. Slipping him the cash I give a nod to the blonde, untangling my arm from her hands, as I step away, “Maybe next time babe.”

“What about the blonde Barbie?” Mike screams at me as I deposit our drinks in the middle of the table. I cringe, remembering how drunk she is.

“No.” Shaking my head.

“Come on man….” He says not hiding his laughter, “It’s a hump and dump, not like you’re going to see her again.”

He’s really starting to piss me off. “She’s hammered, Mike.”

“So are you.”

I down my shot, grabbing my beer. “Not yet, but I’m in for a quick lay not someone to babysit while they can’t hold their alcohol.”

“Screw this, you’re going to end up alone with nothing but your hand to keep you company.” Mike says as he brings his shot glass up for a toast.

The death stare I aim at him turns our group into a pack of laughing hyenas.

“To John,” Mike announces, “… and that bitch Rachelle, who he wasted years with.”

I couldn’t help but join in on the toast, I did waste years on her. The burn of tequila feels right as I down my seventh shot of the night, or tenth.

Fuck it.

Shaking my head as the room does a small tilt, I scan the pub again. I am here for a purpose and it’s not to hang around these idiots until 2 a.m. I freeze, my beer in hand, tilting it towards the short brunette that just entered Molly’s.

“Her.”

With a fuckin’ laugh, Mike announces, “Fifty bucks man, she doesn’t look like the type.”

“She’s in my American literature class,” I say with a cocky smile, setting my beer on the table. “Make it a hundred.”

I keep my eye on the prize as I stand, “See you fuckers tomorrow.”

The brunette I set my conquest on has posted up at the tables across the pub with her group. “Make that two.” I tell the waitress taking her order.

She turns around facing me now, damn she’s small. Barely making it to my shoulder in those high as hell heels. I’m waiting for the protest girls usually give when a guy decides to buy them a drink, but she surprises the hell out of me.

With a sexy smile she announces, “Thanks. I’m Violet, but my friends call me Vee.”

Vee has to be the exact opposite of my ex. Rachelle. Must be why I’m so attracted to her. Where Rachelle was red hair and light skin, Vee’s hair is almost black and her skin a golden brown.

“John,” I say holding out my hand to shake hers. “We have American Lit together.”

“So Vee,” I say, moving closer to her, “what brings a good girl like you into a place like this.”

Her sudden outburst of laughter throws me off, “That’s your best line?”

“Yeah,” I say rubbing the back of my neck, “Not much into pickup lines, I’m more of a ‘to the point’ guy.”

“To the point,’ huh,” she says with a sly smile. “Good, me too.”

What the fuck. “Really now, so if I were to get to the point, what would you wish for me to tell you?”

She leans in then, enough that I could feel her body against my arm, heat radiating off of her. “That your place is around the corner, and we should leave now.”

I am all for grabbing her and running out the front door, because dammit my apartment is around the corner, and we should leave now. Suddenly our waitress decides to show up with our drinks.

Taking the drinks off of the tray I place one in front of Vee and the other in front of myself. Already the floor starting to tilt slightly from the numberless shots the guys had me down this evening, I eye the double tequila sitting in front of me wearingly. Screw it. Slipping some bills to the waitress I turn to Vee, grab my shot, and put it in the air for a toast.

“To us, and the fact that my apartment is only a block away,” I laugh at the shocked look on her face and down my shot. Getting her expression under control, she downs hers as well. I’m pretty impressed seeing as women usually complain about the burn, but she downs it like a pro.

I lean across the table, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Okay,” She nods to the group of people she walked in with, “Let me just tell my friends I’m leaving.”

“Meet you at the door.” I work my way back across the crowded pub, giving a smug smile to my friends as I walk past them. I hear a couple of ‘Way to go’ and ‘wrap it up’ comments being thrown my way, flipping them off I stand next to the door. I don’t have to wait long, Vee is already walking up to me through the crowd. Damn, I did get lucky tonight.

I open the door for her as she brushes by me…. Much more of that and we won’t make it to my apartment. I follow Vee out of Molly’s, my eyes glued to her ass and how her jeans fit like a second skin. Stepping into the cool fall air, my head clears a little but I can start to feel the ever numbness that drunkenness always brings on. My fingers are tingling and I haven’t been able to feel my legs for the last 30 minutes.

Not bothering with small talk, we make it to my apartment in record time, thankfully without incidence. Standing in the dull grey hallway of my apartments, I find the right key on my key ring, turning the lock I can feel Vee’s hand start its way up my arm as I’m unlocking my apartment door….

I’m on the couch. I look to the side making out the makeshift black bedsheets for curtains against the yellowing paint on the walls and the cheap bookcase I use for my flat screen. I’m in my apartment, but just a second ago I was unlocking the door. I sink back into reality as I realize Vee’s laying beneath me, warm and kissing her way down my neck…..

I sit up suddenly, alarmed by the knocking on the front door. Early morning light is just making its way around my makeshift curtains, I’m in my bedroom, naked.

I look around, something nagging at me, there’s something I’m supposed to remember, what the hell happened last night. I put both hands on the bed trying to ground myself, my left hand landing on something that makes a crinkling sound underneath my fingers.

I pick up a piece of paper and a hundred dollar bill falls out from on top of it.

“Shit!”

I can’t help but groan as I lay back with a thump onto my bed. In her perfect handwriting is a note Vee left me.

Dear John,

You should have upped the bet with your friend.

Vee.

P.S. Mike stopped by this morning, here’s the hundred he owes you.

P.P.S. Go to Hell.

With the knocking on the front door becoming more insistent, I grab a pair of jeans off my bedroom floor and slip them on, not even bothering to button them. Shielding my eyes against the harsh morning light I make my way to the front door, managing to unlatch the lock and rip it open at the same time.

“WHAT!?!”

I give in and rest my forehead on the door frame as I realize who is at my front door.

Completely defeated and hungover I mumble, “What are you doing here….Rachelle?”

You lost yourself, within the substance, saturating your veins from within.

I lost myself, within my love for you, forever unconditionally.

You lost your mind, justifying it all, even the bruises.

I lost my innocence, my naive outlook on Love. 

You lost everything. Everyone.

I lost me. Never again.

You lost.

Steeling a quick glance down, I can tell that my multi-colored sneakers have started to pound the pavement in time with the hard rock song blasting in my ear buds. The familiar burn starts to spread throughout my body as I breathe in a lungful of air, beginning around my rib cage and spreading throughout my body as if there is fire in my veins instead of my muscles. My body is drenched from running in the Texas heat, black yoga pants hug me like a second skin and my annoyingly cheery t-shirt advertising Texas beaches won’t stop clinging to my sides. I can’t help the smirk that takes over me as the thought of what people must think as they pass by on their morning commute, an athletic cheery girl who takes care of herself. Well, if they only knew how that is a harsh 360 degrees from who I really am.

I shake my head as I put everything I have into focusing on the tempo of the music.

Dodging the crack in the sidewalk (with its ankle spraining angle) I can feel the fog start to creep up around my mind, allowing the dark memories to run wild in my forethought as I push my legs even faster as if I could physically outrun them.

I start to hear their voices. They are coming from the part of me I wish I had a button to that was labeled ‘OFF’ …

Your thin lips do not do you justice.

As I roll my lips in, I take a bite at my bottom lip. I can feel the sting and taste the metallic blood that reminds me, yes, I am still alive.

Your boobs look disgusting at this angle.

I pull my arms in, adjusting the strap on my shoulder from my sports bra. I can feel the pressure around my chest, I always wear my bras one size too small so that I do not have to deal with the scrutiny of my chest.

How can you be such a bitch, you are so selfish.

I can feel the harsh breath stab into my lungs, as my mind begins to overwork.

I don’t need you, no one does.

Spots start to pop up along my line of vision.

I don’t know if I want to be with you, or with her.

My knees begin to give with each step.

Lora, he did it. He killed himself.

My body comes to a complete stop, yanking my earbuds out and doubling over, my hands grip my knees as if my life hinges on it. Raking in dry painful breathes, slowly, the fog dissipates. I hear a car honk in the distance and then the sound of morning traffic slams into my ears as if someone has unmuted the world. I open my eyes to find the world going on, as if nothing has just happened.

By the time I make it to my front door, my breathing has evened out and my hands have stopped shaking. Unlocking the front door, I greet my Mom with my practiced smile and cheery sounding “Good Morning, How’d you sleep?” No one the wiser that I just fought the war I battle with every day. I exhaustingly shrug to myself, mumbling as I walk down the hall, “Better to fight my demons in the light of day, than in the dark.”