Addicted to Perfect: a Journey Out of the Grips of Adderall by Vitale Buford

Author:Vitale Buford [Buford, Vitale]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BookBaby

7. Disaster in Decatur

I survive my first week living in Decatur, and it is time for the weekend. Jack’s family is having a huge Fourth of July party, and his extended family will be there. We get to the party and I feel totally out of place. Jack pays no attention to me—he is avoiding me but pretending that everything is okay in front of his family. But it isn’t. We made it through the week, but he can’t fake it anymore. He gets really drunk, and I pretend that I no longer drink bourbon, so I drink beer. I pretend that I am a good girl with no past and no previous sex partners. I pretend to be the perfect girl.

Everyone is drinking heavily at the party. In fact, I am the most sober, which is a first. The party goes on all night and I am miserable. I feel out of place and abandoned and unloved and unworthy. Jack ends up leaving the party to drive four wheelers with his cousins. He leaves without telling me and I have no idea how long he will be gone.

An hour passes and there is still no word from him, and so I decide to go to sleep in his sisters’ room. I feel totally out of place and keep falling in and out of sleep. There are loud noises in the room next door that wake me up—and it is Jack. I slowly get out of his sister’s bed and walk next door. I find him climbing in bed in his childhood bedroom—he is beyond drunk. I want him to love me, so I lay down next to him in his bed. He looks repulsed by me. I put my hand on his back and he moves away from me. I don’t know what I have done to make him so distant and angry. “You are a slut and a liar,” he exclaims. “There’s no way you only slept with ten people. You’ve probably slept with ten times that. I can’t believe anything that comes out of your mouth.” I can’t believe he is holding this against me. Why are we even still talking about this bullshit? I am tired of lying—about Adderall, about smoking, about drinking, about the number of people I’ve slept with. I am tired of this conversation. “Fine; I’ve slept with sixteen people,” I blurt out. He looks shocked and moves farther away from me. He calls me a slut and a liar and tells me again that he can’t believe anything that comes out of my mouth. I feel like a terrible person. I feel dirty and unwanted and unlovable. My own fiancé doesn’t even want to be near me. I am damaged goods. I am completely damaged.

The next morning, I wake up and head back to the house without Jack.

He is still sleeping and hung over. And I don’t want to be around him right now anyway given the conversation we had the night before.

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