Rebirth

By:  Julie

I could have died.

I realize that now.

So it was my choice when I left, when I went to the center and checked myself in, leaving them with the choice to either cover my tracks or come out and say it.

It was up to them, even though it had been my choice. But at that point, I didn’t care anymore. There were lots of things that I couldn’t remember from nights past, when I had woken up the next morning with a headache. I knew it was wrong, and this was the thing that I hoped would stop it.

They came out on TRL, in front of the world, and they spilled it, to the millions of fans that had to have been watching.

I saw it.

I saw these four men standing there in that studio, looking so sad. I saw Nick in tears, sitting there, not saying a word. I had to watch Brian sitting there and staring into space,, had to see Howie staring at the floor. I saw Kevin trying to explain what had happened with me, had to see the way he almost started crying.

Maybe their tears were from pity, but I doubt it. I had shared so much of my life with these four men, and it’s hard for me to think that they would pity me because I did something so stupid. No, they did not pity me because I had become addicted. The were truly sad that they had to see a friend—someone that they were so close to—go through something like this.

I don’t remember when it started. I don’t remember when it became too much, when it became more that anyone should ever consume on a regular basis. I don’t remember when I lost control.

I do remember the stares that I would sometimes get. I remember that sometimes the guys would be scared, afraid for my life maybe. I remember that they stopped going out to clubs with me, maybe because they couldn’t stand to watch me get wasted.

They all knew that I had a problem. But they didn’t say or do anything, which some people might think is wrong, but they did it out of love, knowing that it would only make it worse if they tried to help. They knew that I had to help myself.

So I’m here now in this rehabilitation center.

But it’s okay, because everyone knows. Because people see and accept. And if people can’t accept, they can’t deal with the fact that a pop star, someone that they would so often view as perfect, has a problem like mine, then I don’t need those people. WE don’t need those people.

But at least it won’t continue one. It won’t go on until my liver is gone or I drink myself to death.

It stops here.

It ends in ashes, and it’s something that I won’t ever return to.

I can rise above this, because I have faith in myself, and in God.

I will rise above my problems because there are people who love me and are waiting to see me through.

I’ll be stronger because this, because I know that now is not my time, not yet. I have things that I have to do here. I know that millions of people have their thoughts and prayers with me.

And I’ll be reborn because of that.

The End

 

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