I woke up in the morning with a killer headache and reached for my syringe but remembered I'm in the process of quitting so I smoked a Newport instead. The smoke did little to calm me, but it did enough to make me not care my head hurt so I silently thanked it. Standing up, I put Bob Dylan's "Blood on the Tracks" on the record player, leaned against the wall that my bed rests against and let the songs take me away.

My eyes shot open when I thought I heard a knock at the front door. I bumped the needle off the record, put the cigarette out in the ash tray on my window sill and I walked to the door. When I opened it, a guy in the UPS uniform was holding a box that had a clipboard on top of it.
"That for me?" I managed to ask.

He looked at me, said something corny like, " If you're Erik Bedrose," and had me sign for it. I immediately realized why he worked for UPS. "You have a good day," he said with a smile he didn't mean. I did my best not to punch him and closed the door.

I'm always a little wary when I receive a box that has my name written on the side in handwriting I've never seen before - or at least couldn't place at the time. When I opened up the first flap, I saw the corner of a note I probably wouldn't wanna read but opened it anyways.

"Dear Erik..." it started. Yeah, this was definitely going to be one that I wouldn't wanna read. It went on to say that because we weren't going out anymore that my stuff should be returned and that I was an asshole during the relationship and that I was forgiven but not wanted back. Who needs to read this shit on a Saturday morning? Or wait...is it Sunday?

I look inside the box and see stuff that I never cared to get back : My journals, some pajama bottoms, a tooth brush that I don't think ever belonged to me and pictures she had taken of me when I was "In the mood". She had them at her house so she could pull them out and say, " See how creepy you look when you get like this?" It was a sick reminder but it always managed to make me laugh. God, I hate that bitch. I look over at my heroin and realize that nobody but me would know I had taken it and I could just get clean tomorrow... No! Be strong.

I started writing a letter back to my ex, but what was the point? She wouldn't respond back and then I'd get pissed that I had been rejected and try to reach her and end up looking crazy. Nah, it's better that I drop her... and the drugs. Start a new me.

I put away the Bob Dylan record and started listening to the Beach Boys. The best song ever made was "In My Room" and I don't care who says otherwise. No other song captures what being alone and only having yourself to trust feels like as that one does. Everytime I hate the world, I put it in and feel better. Cheesy , I know. Whatever.

It's raining and it's gray outside. I try to remember if we have any Kix in the pantry and I turn my head towards where the kitchen is, as if that will help me. I can't remember now and that's fine because I'm not hungry anyway.

I walk over to the phone and pick it up, dial the first 3 numbers of my ex-girlfriend's apartment, attempt to hang it up and then dial the rest of the numbers. For some reason the ring tone makes me feel safe and I don't want her to pick up. I get her machine and wish I would just hang up, but I don't.

Beep!

"Yeah, hey, it's me." God, I do sound like an asshole. "I got your package and I wanted to say thanks. Nothing better reminds me of the feeling of getting dumped quite like having the stuff you still had of mine mailed to me. Hope you're doing well. What am I saying? Are you there? This is akward." I wait for a minute and then hang up. God, that was depressing.

I walk over to my bed, fiddle with the syringe and think about how it will make me forget all about today. One more time wouldn't hurt and no one will ever know.

I feel the familiar sensation of my arm tightening, find the vein with my hand and inject the drugs right into my system. My body goes limp and I'm laying against the wall again. God, it feels so good to be high. I swear, tomorrow I'm going clean. You have my word. Do you still honor my word? Who cares.