“You wont find out who you are through sex. You’ll find it through art. A lot of famous artists and writers have bipolar disorder— God damn, It smells like weed in here! ”
This was what my best friend Mike said to me on the way home from the psychiatrist singing Bring Me the Horizon and chain-smoking camel crush with the windows up. I brought the car to a screeching halt at the red light nearly missing a Nissan ultima then screamed:
SHOW ME A SIGN SHOW ME A REASON TO GIVE A SOLITARY FUCK ABOUT YOUR GOD DAMN BELIEFS!
Mike laughed looking through my six Korn Cds, slipknot, disturbed, bring me the horizon, asking Alexandria, and Gin blossoms then put in the soothing CD he gave me.
Since I was hospitalized for bipolar disorder, I still have been having a lot of problems with my moodswings and Mike came to see the psychiatrist with me, promising her I was safe in his care. Mike works at a hess station, was in jail for a month for sexting a minor, taught me how to make ramon noodles with a can of sprite and a beach towel, and ripped the sleeves off his band T-shirt to make a tourniquet for my arms the night I cut myself - which absolutely makes him my bestfriend.
I have a very bad habit of using people for sex. In fact, Mike was one of those people.
Mike, a 23 year old, was raped at 13 and his father beat him so badly he has to wear sunglasses every time he goes outside or else he will go blind. He numbed his pain through promiscuous sex, and never felt a thing for any of the 50 women he was with before he made jesus Christ his personal savior. Mike has been arrested for having sex in public places and has done pretty much EVERYTHING everywhere. He had his raybans clipped onto his black t-shirt while he was showing me his Metallica Vinyl in a cardboard box in his living room. “I actually haven’t had sex in three years because I realized I used it as an antidepressant. I took a vow of celibacy. What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”
“One time a guitarist went down on me on the hood of a Volvo in the middle of a concert in the parkinglot.” I had taken my shirt off because his apartment, covered with dirty band t-shirts and cockroaches, was about 90 degrees and was sitting next to him in my pink bra.
“That’s so hot!“ Mike said.
“It was amazing! The bass matched the vibrations of his mouth, and the drums echoing off the trees made everything pulse.”
“I really like to have sex in the park in the middle of the afternoon.”
“I always wanted to do that!”
“Wanna go now?” Mike smirked.
I laughed, then stood up and took a swig of my beer when Mike stuffed his hand inside my pants and kissed me on the neck like he was sucking an orange.
Mike: Can I go down on you? I’ve never done it before.”
Me: Well, okeydokey!!
Mike leaned in and kissed me cupping the back of my head, my hair falling through his fingers, as his five oclock shadow tickled my face as we fell back onto the couch unbuttoned my pants, and a soft whisper escaped my mouth. I ran my fingers through his hair looking up at the pictures of jesus in the garden waiting for Judas, and a cross made of palms.
I stared at his iced tea colored eyes, the lamp that casted ripples of gold in them, searching for a person there.
“Baby you could make me so happy.” Mike smiled.
“Just like all the other girls?” Our eyes locked, and a change overcame his face like he had seen a ghost and kissed me hard, and turned off the light.
When he found me the next morning, bloody, and cutting myself in his driveway, he didn’t panic, just grabbed me, and ran with me into the shower, where he removed the shower head once more to rinse the blood off my arms. He stole the razors from my car, and stepped on them. Then, he cleaned out everything from his bathroom.
I told him I was sorry, and figured we would never be seeing each other again.
Instead, he handed me two cds and said
Listen to these instead of Korn.
I spent the next day drawing a tree on my wall when he called me in the middle of the afternoon and I asked him if he wanted to help me paint.
Mike was wearing his raybans, using a to-go lint roller to wipe the cathair off his black jeans and black dress shirt. I was barefoot in yoga pants and a large inside out tye dye-shirt.
“I like to look nice.”
I handed him a blue pen because he was taller then me, and I needed someone to finish the branches. He looked at my drawing on my pink wall then timidly pressed the pen to the wall. “I don’t draw well.”
“Make it have vines.”
“That I can do.”
I watched him scrawl vines all over my braches wrapped around the limbs. Then, I poured out some coffee colored paint for the branches. I was playing Everlong on my cd player, when Mike paused on his ladder and said:
What year did this album come out?
“Very proud of you. True or false: Dave Grohol made his debut when Kurt Cobain was still alive.
Correct. Kurt cobain died before he left nirvana.
A splotch of green paint was on my nose, while I stared up at him, sweeping around the edge of the trunk.
True or false: did you like sucking my dick?
Mike laughed and went over with a dark brown where I highlighted, creating texture. He asked me for my brush, and made really great lines, carefully tracing the knots I had drawn. Mostly, I just sat down on the floor and watched him paint. It was so beautiful sitting back and looking at it I almost started crying.
We returned from the shrink to finish the tree where I got up in the middle and grabbed my keys.
“Where are you going?” Mike said. The blinds were closed and the room was dark.
“Out. You’re going to work soon anyways” My voice cracked.
“I know what you sound like before you start to cry. Get back here.” He hugged me, while I began to sob, tightly squeezing me. “I can be your best friend if you let me.”
He cupped my face, then stole my keys as we fell back onto the bed. I got on top of him, pummeling his chest, trying to reach underneath him giggling, when he put the keys in his pants, and I reached inside, where he wasn;t wearing any underwear. He stole them, quick and put them inside again.
“That felt good.” Mike said.
I reached inside again, this time, feeling around like I was trying to scrape the last spoonful of jelly out of a jar. Mike unbuttoned my pants and I stared into his golden caged eyes when he stuck his hand inside.
I opened my mouth to breathe, a cold coming on, his breathe matching mine.
We did not kiss. We just stared at each other. That was a part of it. The coldness of the dark room and the warmth of his hand, moving, as I leaned onto the pillow next to him, our foreheads pressed against each others, bucking and gasping.
I lied motionless for a moment, then got up, with my keys, and buttoned my jeans.
“We really need to stop doing that.” Mike said.
“Yeah” I said. I hugged him quick from behind as he was putting on his pants. “You’re a really good friend”
Mike turned around and hugged me tighter than he ever had before.
“You’re a really good friend too. I’m going to show your tree to a museum.”Mike said.
“This is so beautiful, and it can inspire people way more than hurting yourself. This is YOU. Not sex. You!”