It was fine when it was regular stuff, at least that was what I told myself to cope. Everyone in our band was well aware of the fact you had a problem, it was nothing new. Having dated you for nearly six years, I constantly found myself lying to myself that it would eventually get better. Surprise, surprise, it only ever got worse. You were a key piece in our band, whilst I was the singer, you were the drummer. Yet I knew we wouldn’t last at the rate you were going.

The line was drawn when you passed out at one of our concerts due to the stuff you had taken minutes prior. Enough was enough.

I sit silently at a chair beside your bed, my eyes narrowed into slits as I think over how we even got to this place. What went wrong? When did the sweet boy I knew become so messed he couldn’t function without it? I rub my eyelids, already well aware that I had eye-bags underneath my eyes due to the fact I hadn’t slept in hours. I was too busy crying my eyes out over fear of your safety, and the fact I decided enough was enough.

”You fucking idiot…why did you have to do this to me? To yourself? To our band? Our friends?”

I mutter underneath my breath, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill.