If there was anything more that I hated in the world than school, it was a school based trip. It wasn’t enough that my life was reduced to being ridiculed by rich teenagers everyday at school, confined by the classroom walls, no, they had to make me attend these stupid camps and retreats where it was made more apparent that I was an outsider.
These stupid events always made it easy for people to point out exactly how few friends I had, or exactly how different I was. It also made it hard to get away; hard to get time to myself, because every second had to be documented by someone going by the guise of “supervisor”.
Today was my lucky day, the ‘group’ of students and teachers were going off for a day of hiking and rock climbing. None of the teachers here were stupid enough to even think that I would participate, let alone co-operate. They had given me the luxury of being able to stay at the camp and pursue other recreational activities. I guess they figured I deserved a ‘treat’ seeing as I had been behaving myself. Sure, I wasn’t enjoying myself, but I wasn’t being difficult either, I at least was partaking in the majority of stupid activities and pretending that I was happy and carefree.
I watched as they walked off into the distance, climbing onto the small bus that would shuttle them to the beginning of their stupid hike.
“I guess you’re stuck with me for the day then” he shrugged as the bus drove away, taking our classmates on what was sure to be a ‘fun filled adventure’.
“I think you’re stuck with yourself” I replied, “I’m doing my art assignment.” I was doing something for art, but it wasn’t really an assignment, it was more of an extra task from the art teacher. She was one of those few people that knew me well, and she knew that I wouldn’t be participating in the rock climbing, the bush walking or any of the mundane activities provided, so she set me her own task. I was to draw three landscapes, and then two animals, the tricky part was that they all had to be part of an interconnecting story. For example, I could draw the campsite, the lake, and the mountains, a butterfly and a possum. The possum would routinely steal food from the campsite and drink from the lake, the tree it called home was on the mountain and the butterfly was its best friend, well something to that effect anyway.
“Is the idea of spending the day with me really that horrible?” he asked, a small smile on his face.
“Yes” I replied. “It really is.”
“Why?” he pressed, the smile a little more prominent. He seemed to be getting a kick out of this torment.
“Because we have absolutely nothing in common, you hang out with assholes, you enjoy sports and I don’t like you” I replied picking up my bag.
“You don’t know me” he said taking the bag off me, a chuckle coating his comment.
“What’s there to know?” I asked. “You play sports, you’re a straight A student, you’re father is a top notch lawyer, you’re an only child, you’re mother is a full-time stay at home mum, you have a dog you take for a run every night, you’ve applied for all of the ivy league colleges, Harvard first because it is where your dad went, and you don’t date because it ‘get’s in the way of your sport’. Was that an accurate guess?”
“Leave out the dating and the dog part and you’re halfway” he smiled at me. “I don’t have a dog because my mother is allergic, my mother is actually a writer, my dad went to Yale, and I have an older sister.”
“How wonderful” I replied, sarcasm dripping from each word. I wasn’t actually fishing for his life story; I more just wanted him to go away. “Can I please have my bag back?”
“Well, Beth, I can’t give it to you because that would mean that you wouldn’t take me where ever you were going, and I so desperately want to come.” His smile was faultless. “Besides, I’d prefer to be verbally barraged by you all day then sit here alone and bored.”
“That might make more sense in theory” I said attempting to grab my bag off him, “but in practise it might not go so well.”
“Why is that?” he asked, his confident smile returning.
“Because on what planet is it exactly that we would get along?” I asked. “Since when has someone like you ever wanted to ‘hang out’ with someone like me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked, now even more amused than before.
“Oh spare me the questions, and don’t make me point out the differences between us, you know exactly what they are” I replied, my eyes narrowing at him.
“What if I don’t care about all of that?” he asked.
“Then I would say that you’re lying. What do you expect? We spend the day together, have deep and meaningful conversations and then tomorrow pretend it never happened?” I asked. “I seriously think you should stop pretending that the world is perfect and that I am about to let you screw me over.”
“What makes you think I am out to get you?” he asked me sincerely confused.
“Because what else could you possibly want from me?” I asked, abandoning my bag and beginning to walk away. “What else is it that I could possibly offer you? It’s not like I am someone you would usually hang out with.”
“What does it matter if you are or aren’t?” he asked. “You barely even know me, so you don’t know who I’d usually even associate with?”
“What is it that you want from me?” I asked him again, completely tired of playing his games.
“Do you want me to say that the life you lead is fine, it’s okay, I give you my approval. I get it; you just want to use me to make your life seem better. Or you want to hear out all my little pathetic stories so you can laugh about it with your friends?”
“What makes you think I am that type of person?” he asked me, falling into step beside me, my bag firmly secured on his shoulder. “I promise you Beth, I am not out to get you. I simply just want to be a friend.”
I didn’t bother replying, I had no words for him. My mind was about to explode from the obscurity of this entire situation and the warning sirens that were going along with it. Instead of putting my foot down and making him leave, I just let it be. I ignored everything going on in my head and just let it all be.
“So why aren’t you going rock climbing today?” he asked, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen over us.
“Do I look like I’d want to be rock climbing with a bunch of people who hate me?” I asked him in return. “Someone might get a brilliant idea and cut the cord or something.”
“No one would do that” he replied.
“Why aren’t you partaking in the group festivities today?” I asked him, jumping from the topic of me. “After all, you are the sporting type, or so you pretend.”
“I have to rest my shoulder, doctor’s orders” he replied. “So that means no real ‘challenging’ physical activity.”
“How unfortunate” I replied in mock sympathy.
“So you don’t like sport” he laughed. “I get it.”
“No, sport does not like me” I replied. “Co-ordination does not like me.” I stopped dead in my tracks and turned to face him.
“What?” he asked me after a few moments of silence.
“Can I have my bag?” I asked him in return. “I want to get out my blanket to sit on.”
“You’re ridiculous” he laughed.
“Get used to it” I snapped, snatching the bag out of his outstretched hand.
*****
“So how was the camp?” asked my art teacher. She was slightly eccentric, a complete oddball and nothing like any other teacher I had ever had in the past. She was everything that this school was not, and everything that I loved. She was one of my good friends, not a best friend like two teenagers, more of a good mentor and friend whenever I needed someone to talk to.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Lessons in Life - EDITED
They say that dedication takes a lifetime, I guess those people don’t know exactly what goes into a lifetime, or just how long, or short it can be.
My mother always thought that my taste in music, clothes, and boys was a phase. I couldn’t even begin to tell you how wrong about me she was.
The only person who really understood was my best friend, well, she was my best friend. We shared everything, we liked the same things and we both had a passion for music. You could even go so far as to say that we were obsessed with music.
We could sum up a day, a feeling, a moment, anything with music. We used music to talk to each other when our words failed.
I say she was my best friend because it implies that she isn’t anymore. I wish she was, but she can’t be, at least not from where she is. She died two weeks, 3 days and 5 hours ago. I know that counting seems pathetic, but that is how long it has been since I saw her last, since I spoke to her.
We were inseparable, we told each other everything. It wasn’t news to me that she suffered from depression, or that she used self harm as a way to deal with her problems. We both had our fair share of problems, but she had never talked to me about suicide before. Neither of us had ever been down that road, and as far as I knew, we weren’t going to.
She had left me a note, but so far I couldn’t read it, I didn’t have the guts to.
So far for me, living was hard without her. It was suddenly like I had lost a limb, a very important limb.
I hadn’t been to school since; I couldn’t face it without her. She was the only person that made it kind of bearable. Not many teenagers like school and I was definitely one of the majority there, except, I didn’t like school for the people, not the classes. In fact, I loved my classes.
The people at school were a different story; they were all people with money, or people who knew people with money. To get into the school you had to have some form of connections. We did, my uncle personally called the school to get me a position, he was also paying my tuition, much to the disdain of my mother. She didn’t object to it though, she knew it was better than any form of schooling she could provide for me.
My uncle was determined for me to go to this school, this snobbish school full of money, he wanted me to go there because it would be the best education I would ever get, and because it had a strong arts program, something he knew I loved.
My uncle was one of the few other people that understood me, or at the very least let me be myself and didn’t try to force me to be something I’m not. My mother was in no way impressed with anything I did, the way I dressed, the music I liked or the subjects I took. She didn’t want me to be an artist or a musician, no, that lifestyle wasn’t good enough, she wanted me to be a doctor, or a lawyer, something that would give me money and a status. Both of the things I didn’t want.
I would be quite content to go through life completely unnoticed, at this very moment I wanted to disappear off the face of the planet.
“Beth?” came a muffled voice from the other side of the door. I rolled over in my bed and pulled the covers up to my chin. “Bethany?”
The door opened, I didn’t look up to see who it was. I just wanted to be alone; it had been all I wanted since she died.
“Hey Kid” said the person sitting on the end of my bed, it was my uncle. I rarely got to see him because his business took him all over the world and kept him busy. He had no children, and I don’t think had any intention of having any, I guess that is why he paid so much attention to me.
I didn’t bother replying, but I sat up to look at him. He was well dressed, a black suit, he probably came straight from a meeting. His hair was slightly dishevelled, like always.
“I’m sorry about Elena” he said, his hand wiping the hair out of my face. Her name was like a punch to the stomach, all the air felt like it had been knocked from my body. I hadn’t spoken, or heard it in so long. It was painful to hear.
“I heard you’ve stopped going to school” he continued, breaking the silence that hung in the air. “I know its painful Beth, but you have to keep going. She may be gone but your life hasn’t and won’t stop.” I looked at him like he had grown an extra head. I opened my mouth to retaliate, but he cut me off. “I know you don’t want to hear this, and I’m sorry to have to be the one to put my foot down. I pay for your schooling, and it is my pleasure to do it, but I want you to go back. Your education is not something I want you to throw away. If you want to talk to someone about all this you know my number, and if you don’t want to talk to me I am happy to pay for you to see, talk to or be around people you do want to.”
“It’s not the same without her” I said softly.
“It never will be, but sitting here in your room is not going to change anything and it sure as hell is not going to bring her back” he replied. “Do you think she would want you to be living like this without her?”
“That’s not a fair question to ask” I muttered.
“But I asked it. Think about it Beth. I want to hear that you are back in school at the very least. I might not be around very often, but I do know what is going on” he replied. “I’ve got to go I have a plane to Italy to get on, but I wanted to come and see you before I left. I needed to make sure that you weren’t going insane and that you were still at least breathing.”
“Thanks” I whispered.
“Someone has to look out for you” he smiled, his hand resting on my shoulder. “I’ll be back in a few weeks; I’ll make sure to track you down.”
“Okay” I nodded. As quickly as he came he was gone, leaving behind the faint smell of his cologne.
As much as I didn’t really want to admit it, he was right. I was wasting my time here. Sure, I was sad and upset, but life did go on, as painful as a life seemed without her.
I rolled back over in my bed and closed my eyes, welcoming the darkness, letting it engulf me.
Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide,
No escape from reality.
I played songs over and over in my head, trying to pretend that this wasn’t my life, this wasn’t happening to me. One day I would wake up, one day I’d walk away.
People would think that I lived a charmed life, I had a seemingly loving family, I went to a rich school, I had an uncle that was willing to foot any bills. My life wasn’t the fairytale people believed it to be.
I was a social outcast because in a school full of rich kids I was a middle class art student, I had an alternative taste in music, my best friend was dead and on top of that my family was nothing near perfect. In fact, my mother and I barely ever spoke, mainly because when we did we argued. She wanted me to be something I wasn’t and refused to acknowledge me for what I wanted to be. I guess that is why my uncle and I were so close, he was both the father and mother I wished I had.
My father was a whole other topic in himself, a dead beat drug addict who skipped out and re-appeared when he needed something, always claiming that he was trying to change. My mother, being the glutton for punishment always accepted him.
I guess it really was lucky that I was an only child. It meant that no one else had to suffer through this hell.
When I was younger I used to wish that my uncle would come and whisk me away, take me to all the exotic places he visited, I wished that he would adopt me. As I grew up I grew out of this fantasy.
Spend all your time waiting
For that second chance
For a break that would make it okay
There’s always some reason
To feel not good enough
And it’s hard at the end of the day
With my eyes closed I reached under my pillow and pulled out a worn envelope. It was her letter to me, the last words she wanted me to have, from her. It was worn because I had spent many nights running my hands over it, wanting to open it, but being too scared.
In the darkness I ran my hands over the worn edges, feeling them curve under my fingers. I wanted to read it, but the fear of what she wanted to say kept me from opening it. The fear of what she said and what she didn’t say the sadness of her being dead, the reality that she was gone, gone and never coming back.
Reading it would make it final, reading it would make it real. I didn’t want it to be real. I so desperately wanted this all to be a dream; I wanted to wake up tomorrow and find her in my room, flipping through my CD’s like always, or she’d be on the floor in the corner, her head stuck in a book because she couldn’t sleep. No matter how much I wanted it, life would never go back to what it used to be.
I let the darkness claim me, letting my mind wander as sleep took me over.
******
Dressing for school consisted of throwing on whatever clothing I could find first. On many occasions I had been tempted to wear my pyjamas to school, but knew that it would put me on even worse terms with the teachers. Sometimes I wondered if the only reason they tolerated me was because of my uncle and his huge fat wallet.
School would seem like a safe place for many teenagers, for me, the only place in the whole building that felt safe was the art room. The rest of the school felt like a prison, which I guess would only feel worse without her by my side.
I had decided that if I felt like it was getting too much I would just go home, but in order to try to make my uncle happy, I would go and at least try to continue my education. He at the very least deserved me to try for him.
Walking through the familiar doors didn’t at all feel the same. The halls felt empty and my stomach was in knots. I had never felt this way in my life, in a school full of thousands of students I felt so very alone. Life without her was never going to be easy.
******
The mere thought of being away on a school based trip was not something that at all appealed to me. The fact that it would indeed be a camping trip didn’t give it any more credit. I could think of nothing worse than forcefully being made to bond with my fellow classmates while performing mindless exercises.
“Sir you know that no matter how many so called bonding year level retreats will not make me any more or less popular than I already am. You and I both know that my attendance would be an utter waste of time. I should think spending that time more wisely, like here in school, catching up on the work that I missed, would be a more productive and satisfactory use of my time” I reasoned with my co-ordinator. He was a middle aged, slightly overweight, balding Catholic Priest, it would seem that no matter how unpopular the Catholic church seemed to get, Priests did, in fact, still exist.
“Bethany, you’ve tried this a thousand times. Year level retreats are a compulsory part of the school curriculum, and you must attend them unless it is physically or emotionally unreasonable for you to do so” he sighed sitting himself in his old leather chair.
“But sir, it is unreasonable for me to attend” I protested.
“I’m afraid that being unpopular is not a valid reason Bethany” he replied pulling his reading glasses onto his the end of his nose. “I know that this will not be a pleasant activity for you, and therefore me, but I am afraid you must attend.”
“I think it is cruel for you to make me go” I sighed.
“Bethany you think that everything I do to you is cruel” he replied. “I won’t hear another argument about this, you are attending this retreat.”
“I’m not playing any of those stupid games” I huffed.
“Now that was a battle I was hoping to leave up to someone else, but, I will not force you to participate in every activity. I will make you do whatever I see fit, but you will be excused from activities which I know will not suit you” he replied. It was as if we had somewhat reached a compromise, only he was the one that got everything he wanted and I got to keep my life vest so I didn’t drown.
I turned and walked out of his office, stopping to pick up my bag. The student reception room was fairly empty; people only came here when they were in trouble, or if they were in need of seeing the counsellor for any reason. It was a rather uncool place to be seen, and for this very reason it was a place I found myself very often.
“You forgot something” came a voice from behind me, I spun in my spot, had I moved any faster I think I would have suffered whiplash. I was surprised that someone else was close enough to me that I could hear them, when I had entered the room there seemed to only be one other person in the far corner.
The source of the startling noise was a boy, a boy I knew of rather well. He picked up my I-Pod, so carelessly left discarded on the seat. I held out my hand to accept the object we both knew belonged to me. He turned it over in his hands to see what music I was listening to, at least that is what I assumed he was doing seeing as there could be no other possible explanation.
“Debussy?” he asked me.
“Clair de Lune” I nodded, taking the device from his hands having given up on waiting for him to return it to me. “It’s my favourite” I added.
“I didn’t take you for the classical type” he said with a knowing smirk on his face.
“Tristan?” the voice of the secretary interrupted us. “The father will see you now.”
“That’s funny” I snapped. “I didn’t take you for the religious type.” I put my headphones in my ears and walked away from him without as much as a backward glance. He was one of the reasons I so very much hated this school.
Tristan Huntsberger, as if the name itself were not enough, his family’s money and his choice in friends made it even more impossible to like him. If my life were a teenage drama he would play the popular rich kid who has everything and whose friends made my life a living hell. As if he wasn’t annoying enough, he just so happened to be brilliant at everything, a straight A student, a star athlete and a given to get into any Ivy League college.
My meeting with the Father had gone quicker than I expected, so I found myself with some extra time on my hands. Classes were still going, which meant that no matter where I went it was sure to be quiet.
Whenever I found myself with ‘free time’ I usually went to one of three places, the art room, the music school, or the roof. The art room and music school were places I went when I needed to study, vent, or just get out whatever emotion it was that was eating me alive, the roof was where I went if I needed to think. These days I spend most of my time on the roof, ironically though, trying not to think.
The thing about this school that gets to me the most is its beauty, for something that can be so horrible it sure is beautiful. The old stone buildings, oak trees, paved paths, green grass, stained glass windows; it was something from a fairytale.
Our spot on the roof overlooked the main oval of the school, surrounded by tall oak trees with the administration building looming in the back ground. From up there you could see almost everything, but no one could really see you.
My mother always thought that my taste in music, clothes, and boys was a phase. I couldn’t even begin to tell you how wrong about me she was.
The only person who really understood was my best friend, well, she was my best friend. We shared everything, we liked the same things and we both had a passion for music. You could even go so far as to say that we were obsessed with music.
We could sum up a day, a feeling, a moment, anything with music. We used music to talk to each other when our words failed.
I say she was my best friend because it implies that she isn’t anymore. I wish she was, but she can’t be, at least not from where she is. She died two weeks, 3 days and 5 hours ago. I know that counting seems pathetic, but that is how long it has been since I saw her last, since I spoke to her.
We were inseparable, we told each other everything. It wasn’t news to me that she suffered from depression, or that she used self harm as a way to deal with her problems. We both had our fair share of problems, but she had never talked to me about suicide before. Neither of us had ever been down that road, and as far as I knew, we weren’t going to.
She had left me a note, but so far I couldn’t read it, I didn’t have the guts to.
So far for me, living was hard without her. It was suddenly like I had lost a limb, a very important limb.
I hadn’t been to school since; I couldn’t face it without her. She was the only person that made it kind of bearable. Not many teenagers like school and I was definitely one of the majority there, except, I didn’t like school for the people, not the classes. In fact, I loved my classes.
The people at school were a different story; they were all people with money, or people who knew people with money. To get into the school you had to have some form of connections. We did, my uncle personally called the school to get me a position, he was also paying my tuition, much to the disdain of my mother. She didn’t object to it though, she knew it was better than any form of schooling she could provide for me.
My uncle was determined for me to go to this school, this snobbish school full of money, he wanted me to go there because it would be the best education I would ever get, and because it had a strong arts program, something he knew I loved.
My uncle was one of the few other people that understood me, or at the very least let me be myself and didn’t try to force me to be something I’m not. My mother was in no way impressed with anything I did, the way I dressed, the music I liked or the subjects I took. She didn’t want me to be an artist or a musician, no, that lifestyle wasn’t good enough, she wanted me to be a doctor, or a lawyer, something that would give me money and a status. Both of the things I didn’t want.
I would be quite content to go through life completely unnoticed, at this very moment I wanted to disappear off the face of the planet.
“Beth?” came a muffled voice from the other side of the door. I rolled over in my bed and pulled the covers up to my chin. “Bethany?”
The door opened, I didn’t look up to see who it was. I just wanted to be alone; it had been all I wanted since she died.
“Hey Kid” said the person sitting on the end of my bed, it was my uncle. I rarely got to see him because his business took him all over the world and kept him busy. He had no children, and I don’t think had any intention of having any, I guess that is why he paid so much attention to me.
I didn’t bother replying, but I sat up to look at him. He was well dressed, a black suit, he probably came straight from a meeting. His hair was slightly dishevelled, like always.
“I’m sorry about Elena” he said, his hand wiping the hair out of my face. Her name was like a punch to the stomach, all the air felt like it had been knocked from my body. I hadn’t spoken, or heard it in so long. It was painful to hear.
“I heard you’ve stopped going to school” he continued, breaking the silence that hung in the air. “I know its painful Beth, but you have to keep going. She may be gone but your life hasn’t and won’t stop.” I looked at him like he had grown an extra head. I opened my mouth to retaliate, but he cut me off. “I know you don’t want to hear this, and I’m sorry to have to be the one to put my foot down. I pay for your schooling, and it is my pleasure to do it, but I want you to go back. Your education is not something I want you to throw away. If you want to talk to someone about all this you know my number, and if you don’t want to talk to me I am happy to pay for you to see, talk to or be around people you do want to.”
“It’s not the same without her” I said softly.
“It never will be, but sitting here in your room is not going to change anything and it sure as hell is not going to bring her back” he replied. “Do you think she would want you to be living like this without her?”
“That’s not a fair question to ask” I muttered.
“But I asked it. Think about it Beth. I want to hear that you are back in school at the very least. I might not be around very often, but I do know what is going on” he replied. “I’ve got to go I have a plane to Italy to get on, but I wanted to come and see you before I left. I needed to make sure that you weren’t going insane and that you were still at least breathing.”
“Thanks” I whispered.
“Someone has to look out for you” he smiled, his hand resting on my shoulder. “I’ll be back in a few weeks; I’ll make sure to track you down.”
“Okay” I nodded. As quickly as he came he was gone, leaving behind the faint smell of his cologne.
As much as I didn’t really want to admit it, he was right. I was wasting my time here. Sure, I was sad and upset, but life did go on, as painful as a life seemed without her.
I rolled back over in my bed and closed my eyes, welcoming the darkness, letting it engulf me.
Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide,
No escape from reality.
I played songs over and over in my head, trying to pretend that this wasn’t my life, this wasn’t happening to me. One day I would wake up, one day I’d walk away.
People would think that I lived a charmed life, I had a seemingly loving family, I went to a rich school, I had an uncle that was willing to foot any bills. My life wasn’t the fairytale people believed it to be.
I was a social outcast because in a school full of rich kids I was a middle class art student, I had an alternative taste in music, my best friend was dead and on top of that my family was nothing near perfect. In fact, my mother and I barely ever spoke, mainly because when we did we argued. She wanted me to be something I wasn’t and refused to acknowledge me for what I wanted to be. I guess that is why my uncle and I were so close, he was both the father and mother I wished I had.
My father was a whole other topic in himself, a dead beat drug addict who skipped out and re-appeared when he needed something, always claiming that he was trying to change. My mother, being the glutton for punishment always accepted him.
I guess it really was lucky that I was an only child. It meant that no one else had to suffer through this hell.
When I was younger I used to wish that my uncle would come and whisk me away, take me to all the exotic places he visited, I wished that he would adopt me. As I grew up I grew out of this fantasy.
Spend all your time waiting
For that second chance
For a break that would make it okay
There’s always some reason
To feel not good enough
And it’s hard at the end of the day
With my eyes closed I reached under my pillow and pulled out a worn envelope. It was her letter to me, the last words she wanted me to have, from her. It was worn because I had spent many nights running my hands over it, wanting to open it, but being too scared.
In the darkness I ran my hands over the worn edges, feeling them curve under my fingers. I wanted to read it, but the fear of what she wanted to say kept me from opening it. The fear of what she said and what she didn’t say the sadness of her being dead, the reality that she was gone, gone and never coming back.
Reading it would make it final, reading it would make it real. I didn’t want it to be real. I so desperately wanted this all to be a dream; I wanted to wake up tomorrow and find her in my room, flipping through my CD’s like always, or she’d be on the floor in the corner, her head stuck in a book because she couldn’t sleep. No matter how much I wanted it, life would never go back to what it used to be.
I let the darkness claim me, letting my mind wander as sleep took me over.
******
Dressing for school consisted of throwing on whatever clothing I could find first. On many occasions I had been tempted to wear my pyjamas to school, but knew that it would put me on even worse terms with the teachers. Sometimes I wondered if the only reason they tolerated me was because of my uncle and his huge fat wallet.
School would seem like a safe place for many teenagers, for me, the only place in the whole building that felt safe was the art room. The rest of the school felt like a prison, which I guess would only feel worse without her by my side.
I had decided that if I felt like it was getting too much I would just go home, but in order to try to make my uncle happy, I would go and at least try to continue my education. He at the very least deserved me to try for him.
Walking through the familiar doors didn’t at all feel the same. The halls felt empty and my stomach was in knots. I had never felt this way in my life, in a school full of thousands of students I felt so very alone. Life without her was never going to be easy.
******
The mere thought of being away on a school based trip was not something that at all appealed to me. The fact that it would indeed be a camping trip didn’t give it any more credit. I could think of nothing worse than forcefully being made to bond with my fellow classmates while performing mindless exercises.
“Sir you know that no matter how many so called bonding year level retreats will not make me any more or less popular than I already am. You and I both know that my attendance would be an utter waste of time. I should think spending that time more wisely, like here in school, catching up on the work that I missed, would be a more productive and satisfactory use of my time” I reasoned with my co-ordinator. He was a middle aged, slightly overweight, balding Catholic Priest, it would seem that no matter how unpopular the Catholic church seemed to get, Priests did, in fact, still exist.
“Bethany, you’ve tried this a thousand times. Year level retreats are a compulsory part of the school curriculum, and you must attend them unless it is physically or emotionally unreasonable for you to do so” he sighed sitting himself in his old leather chair.
“But sir, it is unreasonable for me to attend” I protested.
“I’m afraid that being unpopular is not a valid reason Bethany” he replied pulling his reading glasses onto his the end of his nose. “I know that this will not be a pleasant activity for you, and therefore me, but I am afraid you must attend.”
“I think it is cruel for you to make me go” I sighed.
“Bethany you think that everything I do to you is cruel” he replied. “I won’t hear another argument about this, you are attending this retreat.”
“I’m not playing any of those stupid games” I huffed.
“Now that was a battle I was hoping to leave up to someone else, but, I will not force you to participate in every activity. I will make you do whatever I see fit, but you will be excused from activities which I know will not suit you” he replied. It was as if we had somewhat reached a compromise, only he was the one that got everything he wanted and I got to keep my life vest so I didn’t drown.
I turned and walked out of his office, stopping to pick up my bag. The student reception room was fairly empty; people only came here when they were in trouble, or if they were in need of seeing the counsellor for any reason. It was a rather uncool place to be seen, and for this very reason it was a place I found myself very often.
“You forgot something” came a voice from behind me, I spun in my spot, had I moved any faster I think I would have suffered whiplash. I was surprised that someone else was close enough to me that I could hear them, when I had entered the room there seemed to only be one other person in the far corner.
The source of the startling noise was a boy, a boy I knew of rather well. He picked up my I-Pod, so carelessly left discarded on the seat. I held out my hand to accept the object we both knew belonged to me. He turned it over in his hands to see what music I was listening to, at least that is what I assumed he was doing seeing as there could be no other possible explanation.
“Debussy?” he asked me.
“Clair de Lune” I nodded, taking the device from his hands having given up on waiting for him to return it to me. “It’s my favourite” I added.
“I didn’t take you for the classical type” he said with a knowing smirk on his face.
“Tristan?” the voice of the secretary interrupted us. “The father will see you now.”
“That’s funny” I snapped. “I didn’t take you for the religious type.” I put my headphones in my ears and walked away from him without as much as a backward glance. He was one of the reasons I so very much hated this school.
Tristan Huntsberger, as if the name itself were not enough, his family’s money and his choice in friends made it even more impossible to like him. If my life were a teenage drama he would play the popular rich kid who has everything and whose friends made my life a living hell. As if he wasn’t annoying enough, he just so happened to be brilliant at everything, a straight A student, a star athlete and a given to get into any Ivy League college.
My meeting with the Father had gone quicker than I expected, so I found myself with some extra time on my hands. Classes were still going, which meant that no matter where I went it was sure to be quiet.
Whenever I found myself with ‘free time’ I usually went to one of three places, the art room, the music school, or the roof. The art room and music school were places I went when I needed to study, vent, or just get out whatever emotion it was that was eating me alive, the roof was where I went if I needed to think. These days I spend most of my time on the roof, ironically though, trying not to think.
The thing about this school that gets to me the most is its beauty, for something that can be so horrible it sure is beautiful. The old stone buildings, oak trees, paved paths, green grass, stained glass windows; it was something from a fairytale.
Our spot on the roof overlooked the main oval of the school, surrounded by tall oak trees with the administration building looming in the back ground. From up there you could see almost everything, but no one could really see you.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
something straight from the head
It was another wintery day in Melbourne, the wind was chilly, the sky overcast. The clouds threatened to rain on the crowds below, but nobody seemed to care, everyone just kept walking with their heads down, their jackets pulled tight trying in vain to protect themselves against the cold wind.
Why are we all rushing? She thought to herself. Why do we fight the clock? Why do I have to make myself hurry back to a job I hate, hurry back to an office that blocks the sunlight. She sighed to herself, for so long now she had been discontent with everything.
In truth she hated her job, she thought that it would be a good start for her, but instead of leading her into the journalistic world that she longed to be a part of, it just continued to take her further and further away. She no longer believed her boss’ promises of ‘getting her a big break soon’ or even their bullshit about helping her learn the ropes. There were no ropes to learn.
She had put up with enough of it, she hated the way they were all using her, making promises they had no intention of keeping. The saddest thing of all was the fact that there was nothing she could do about it other than quit. She wasn’t about to give up her good salary and start from the bottom again, she wasn’t about to give away all this hard work because she was suddenly feeling this way. No, she was going to stick it out, something would happen soon to make her life better. It just had to, it was her time, at least that is what she kept telling herself.
So here she was, rushing in the cold winter wind, holding her jacket, trying to get back to the job she hated before it started to rain and before her lunch hour was up.
In this world it was all a game of numbers. A 9 am start, a 6 pm finish, no longer than an hour for lunch in between. If you went over your hour for lunch your ass was on the line. This was a cut throat industry and if you put a foot wrong, you could almost kiss your career goodbye.
She had been writing for as long as she could remember, stories, reviews, articles for the school magazine, for the local news paper, she even wrote poems. Writing had always been a part of her life, so she decided to try to make it her career. She loved writing and would do anything to be able to make a proper living off it, not be pushing paper behind her desk for other people.
So here she was, sitting behind her desk, filling out paperwork for her boss and bored beyond repair. It was times like these when she thanked whatever higher power there was that there was such a thing as the internet. It also meant that she had a place to put all of her thoughts and stories.
She documented her life and her writing in her journal, her online journal. She had been a member of the livejournal community for years, never paying too much attention to making friends, but more just using it as a place to put her works. Mainly her friends read her work, but every now and then someone she didn’t know would comment on her work and she was always willing to listen to outside opinions, always pushing herself to be better. She wanted to be better, being better made it harder for people to turn her away, but no matter what she did to improve, they always turned her away.
Having almost finished her paperwork for the day, she decided to finish up a piece she had been writing about older literature versus newer literature. She had nothing against the newer literature, in fact some of the writing was brilliant, but some of it was liberally compared to other older books that were written a million times better. Some authors were being compared to other authors without any merit to be, some authors were being given more praise than they should be receiving. She felt that critics were too quickly comparing people to Shakespeare and Hemmingway, when their writing was nothing of their standard and written in a completely different time.
Of course, this piece would never be published, no. No one ever wanted to publish anything she had written, most of the time it was too ‘radical’ or too ‘political’. It was always the same, and it was always the same generic crap that did get published.
“Ms Harrison?” she heard her name be called from her bosses office, inwardly she rolled her eyes.
*************
that's all for now, but yeah, i think it is the very beggings of something, of course, as with everything i do, it is subject to be changed, re-written, picked at and examined from all angles.
Why are we all rushing? She thought to herself. Why do we fight the clock? Why do I have to make myself hurry back to a job I hate, hurry back to an office that blocks the sunlight. She sighed to herself, for so long now she had been discontent with everything.
In truth she hated her job, she thought that it would be a good start for her, but instead of leading her into the journalistic world that she longed to be a part of, it just continued to take her further and further away. She no longer believed her boss’ promises of ‘getting her a big break soon’ or even their bullshit about helping her learn the ropes. There were no ropes to learn.
She had put up with enough of it, she hated the way they were all using her, making promises they had no intention of keeping. The saddest thing of all was the fact that there was nothing she could do about it other than quit. She wasn’t about to give up her good salary and start from the bottom again, she wasn’t about to give away all this hard work because she was suddenly feeling this way. No, she was going to stick it out, something would happen soon to make her life better. It just had to, it was her time, at least that is what she kept telling herself.
So here she was, rushing in the cold winter wind, holding her jacket, trying to get back to the job she hated before it started to rain and before her lunch hour was up.
In this world it was all a game of numbers. A 9 am start, a 6 pm finish, no longer than an hour for lunch in between. If you went over your hour for lunch your ass was on the line. This was a cut throat industry and if you put a foot wrong, you could almost kiss your career goodbye.
She had been writing for as long as she could remember, stories, reviews, articles for the school magazine, for the local news paper, she even wrote poems. Writing had always been a part of her life, so she decided to try to make it her career. She loved writing and would do anything to be able to make a proper living off it, not be pushing paper behind her desk for other people.
So here she was, sitting behind her desk, filling out paperwork for her boss and bored beyond repair. It was times like these when she thanked whatever higher power there was that there was such a thing as the internet. It also meant that she had a place to put all of her thoughts and stories.
She documented her life and her writing in her journal, her online journal. She had been a member of the livejournal community for years, never paying too much attention to making friends, but more just using it as a place to put her works. Mainly her friends read her work, but every now and then someone she didn’t know would comment on her work and she was always willing to listen to outside opinions, always pushing herself to be better. She wanted to be better, being better made it harder for people to turn her away, but no matter what she did to improve, they always turned her away.
Having almost finished her paperwork for the day, she decided to finish up a piece she had been writing about older literature versus newer literature. She had nothing against the newer literature, in fact some of the writing was brilliant, but some of it was liberally compared to other older books that were written a million times better. Some authors were being compared to other authors without any merit to be, some authors were being given more praise than they should be receiving. She felt that critics were too quickly comparing people to Shakespeare and Hemmingway, when their writing was nothing of their standard and written in a completely different time.
Of course, this piece would never be published, no. No one ever wanted to publish anything she had written, most of the time it was too ‘radical’ or too ‘political’. It was always the same, and it was always the same generic crap that did get published.
“Ms Harrison?” she heard her name be called from her bosses office, inwardly she rolled her eyes.
*************
that's all for now, but yeah, i think it is the very beggings of something, of course, as with everything i do, it is subject to be changed, re-written, picked at and examined from all angles.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
The Adventures Of The Fabulous Four
A new story, not at all finished, complete work in progress, but you know I like to share.
The Very Beginnings
It started with a band, and it ended with a band. It was only fitting that music was the thing that brought us together, and kept us together.
We were all fans of the same band, diehard fans, that is what made us be so obsessed as to join the bands message board. We started out as strangers, completely unknown to each other, but as time progressed we got closer and closer, until it was undeniable that we were friends, best friends. The only problem for us, however, was that we were all separated by distance.
Megan (flockmaster) and Bec (searchingtheskies) both lived in Melbourne Australia, Bianca (beani19) lived in South Africa, and Moni (mywordsaremyfaith) lived in New Zealand.
The distance was all about to change, they were about to be thrown into a world together, for better, and for worse.
searchingtheskies
Life had become a stupid ritual, wake up, eat, go to sleep, the only thing that made my day to day ritual any different was the order in which those events took place.
University had been over for a while, and my summer job had come and gone. They so politely told me they no longer needed me as soon as the summer season came to an end. The job was just a way to get money to me anyway, I hadn’t even bothered to try to make any real friends with any of the people there.
So here I was, home alone, bored beyond comprehension and doing nothing.
Something happened to change my life, a friend from university called me up, they were in a band, a band I had seen so many times, I had even helped them out a few times. Why did he call?
They needed a new singer, they were sick of their old singers shit and wanted to see if I was interested. They had a small club tour of Australia coming up and they wanted to see if it could work. Being in the situation I was in there was no way I was going to turn them down; I would do anything to get out of this numbing ritual of nothing.
So the beginning of a new life started. I was singing songs, drinking, and sleeping in a van full of boys. I was living the life of a musician on tour.
I was the only person organized enough to have a laptop computer, so I soon became the only one with contact to the outside world, but more importantly, to home.
I found myself sending email after email to people I loved, just to keep them updated, and let them know that I was still alive. I also became the official blog poster on the band’s MySpace. It was only because according to everyone in the band, I was the best with words and I was the only one who was ever up enough to do it.
I was only awake so much because I couldn’t sleep.
Megan, being the only one of my close friends that was actually on the same continent as me, made it out to a few shows. They were mostly the Melbourne and Victoria shows, but it was still appreciated. The best thing about her, and my other two friends Bianca and Moni, was that they supported me no matter what. Everyone else told me I was stupid for doing this, but they told me to do what I wanted and if it was something that I wanted to do then they were there for me a hundred percent.
They were the reason I was so willing to try this out, after all, it was a small shitty club tour with four boys, there were a hell of a lot of reasons to not do it. But I did, and they helped me through every bump along the way.
The boys on tour were awesome too, we fast all became friends, and I found myself quickly adopted into the ‘little sister’ spot in the group. That was fine with me because it meant that I had four boys looking out for me wherever we went. Talk about feeling protected.
Email from searchingtheskies to flockmaster, mywordsaremyfaith, beanie19 on Wednesday 03-09-2008
Hey Moni MonMon, B Baby, and Meggie Moo (mwahahahahahahaha I used it)
How’s life treating you guys?
Fuck. I know it has been forever since I have come on the boards, and I know I am horrible at the whole facebook, livejournal thing, I am a crappy friend, I admit it. There!
As you know I have been as busy as all fuck. Life on the road with four boys is harder than it looks, and those pictures don’t do it justice. It’s night after night of shows, drinking, driving (obviously not together, duh!), sleeping, writing, practise and God knows what else.
And you know what, I LOVE IT!
I don’t actually know where we are at the moment, it being dark outside, Jack driving with his pod in and the other three sleeping. I am too nice to disturb anyone; I wish I could say the same for them.
I am so happy I conned myself into bringing the precious baby that is my laptop with me, otherwise I think I just might have gone insane. Well more insane.
What’s happening in your world across the ways there? Fuck I miss talking to you guys every night, but hey, this is getting us closer to that house where we can all live together, right? LOL.
Okay, I am going to stop rambling and try to catch some Z’s, I’m long overdue for a sleep.
Love you.
B. xo
P.S. having your period on tour with a van full of boys is not fun : [
Email had become my way of life, the easiest way to stay in contact with people and faster than sending postcard, which I did for novelty value when I could. Some towns had some funny names that needed to be sent to unsuspecting people. “Greetings from Bald Nob”, how can that not make your day???
After packing up my laptop, I curled up next to Ian, our bands very awesome drummer, and tried to sleep. Somewhere between Jack’s finger tapping, Ian’s snoring and the sound of the engine I finally fell asleep.
flockmaster
Why does my computer always make noises when I least expect it? Is it just to scare the absolute shit out of me???
After getting over the startling noise I noticed that my computer was trying to tell me that I had a new email, I am sure there was a better way to go about it, but I’ll save the reprimand for later.
You have one new email.
Well that was a new development, as if I didn’t already know.
I clicked open the new message, only to have my bad mood taken away from me. It was a message from Becca, and boy did I love getting these. They were always somewhat entertaining due to the fact that she was on tour around Australia with four boys in one van. Talk about some interesting times!
I must admit I was a little jealous, here she was having the time of her life and I was stuck here doing nothing but working as much as possible. There were bills to pay and what not.
It was weird having a friend on the road with their band, knowing someone who was starting to become part of the music scene that we had been admired for so long. It was something that I still wasn’t quite used to, I hoped that I got used to it soon though, because as far as I could tell, these guys were going to make it big. What that meant for us, I didn’t really know.
I had managed to escape away from my life for a few shows, which I enjoyed beyond comprehension. There is so much more of a connection and a thrill when you know the person on the other side of the microphone, when you’re there not only for the band, but with the band.
It was also great to escape away from university and my family for a few days. University was as much of a relief to get away from as it was to be free of my family, as much as I love them; I love our time apart too.
I wouldn’t say I have the best relationship with my parents, and I definitely don’t have the worst. It’s just that sometimes it can be really hard to stay unaffected by some of the things they say or do.
It makes me grateful for having these wonderful friends that I have managed to find. They always hear me out, no matter the situation, always are sympathetic, always willing to help. They never tell me I am ungrateful, or over reacting, they know how to make me feel better.
I was jerked back from my moment of self thought when my computer started beeping at me, trying to tell me that I had new messages. I turned the volume on the computer down and realized that Moni was messaging me. In my moment of life contemplation I had completely forgotten that I was on the computer, talk about spacing out.
searchingtheskies
If you’ve never performed in front of any sort of crowd then you’ll never know the electric feeling of being in front of an audience. No matter if they love you or hate you, there is no other feeling that can compare.
The breathlessness of being nervous, the sweaty palms gripping the microphone, the heat coming off the lights, the closeness of your band mates, there was nothing better. The applause, the adrenalin, the energy, it was something to very hard to forget and almost impossible to replicate when you walk off the stage.
How do you deal with coming down from a high like that? There is nothing that compares to the feeling and it gives you such an adrenaline rush that you don’t know what to do when you walk off stage. What could you possibly do that compares?
You do what all good rockstars do, you party. In our case it isn’t really partying, well, it is to us, but it isn’t getting trashed and feeling like shit the next day, or worse, performing hungover. The only thing that makes me feel like utter shit the next day is lack of sleep.
Our parties consisted of some people consuming alcohol, but they more involved insane amounts of sugar and stupid activities, like bowling, mini golf or even go kart racing. Of course, being the rockers that we are, we tend to get hands on in all games that we play, even board games, and wherever we go, so our ‘damages’ bills were a little high, when we paid them. Tonight of course was no exception to our crazy stunts. Most nights we really weren’t anything to wild, we’d hang out by the pool, or maybe go play some mini golf. It was rare that we really, absolutely trashed a place. To be brutally honest, our reputation was worse than it needed to be and the hotels that try to warn us about damages bills and what not really just induce their own pain.
We had decided that in honour of Jack’s birthday we’d go to the up class ‘micky d’s’ and then go and play a game of croquet. Of course, the game of croquet would be totally illegal seeing as we’d be breaking and entering. This of course would not faze anyone. It was Jack’s birthday and someone had come up with the ridiculous idea of playing croquet, so of course we were going to do it at whatever cost.
So, after playing the show of a lifetime, and giving the audience my all, I found myself sitting in a Mc Donald’s eating a less than average burger and throwing fries at the boy sitting opposite me.
“Would you quit it” said Ian, pulling a stray missile from his hair. “You are wasting perfectly good food.” Of course, he ate it, despite it having been in his unwashed hair. We were on tour; I can’t say his body saw soap on a regular basis.
“It’s fun to annoy you though” I shrugged. “Besides which, I am full.” I threw another one at his head. He sighed to himself and took the box that was half full off me. I let out a gasp of mock outrage.
“You need to learn to eat” he replied. “It’s like you eat oxygen. At least you’re not one of the 20-something year olds who are playing in the playground right now.”
“I could be” I replied slipping to the edge of my chair.
“Don’t you dare leave me alone here on my birthday with Ian!” whined Jack.
“Sometimes you guys are worse than teenage girls. Would you just get over the fact that he broke your guitar string? Just. Get. Over. It.” I sighed. I hated playing mediator.
“No” replied Jack in a huff. I rolled my eyes, boys will be boys and all that shit, but it was just a guitar string.
“ICE CREAM!” yelled Pat shoving ice cream into my face. There was no way he was getting away with that, it was war time.
mywordsaremyfaith
You know what I hate about my life right now?
The fact that I live in New Zealand. If I could live anywhere else right now it would be Australia. Not only are some of my favourite people in the world there, but one of my friend’s band, whom I undeniably love, are on a tour. I’d kill to be able to go to one of their shows.
It didn’t help that Bec kept a blog and Megan had been to a few shows, this just meant that I lived vicariously through them and just wished that I had been there. It didn’t help that I adored the band and their music, I think I was just as desperate to see them live as I was one of the ‘famous’ bands that I loved.
I couldn’t see them live though, I lived miles away, I had no money, and international road trips were not something my mother would at all approve of. I might be 20, I might be an adult, but no matter what age you are, there are still ways for your mother to rule your life.
Sure she might be my mother, but that did not mean that I always had to like her. Sure, I’d always have that family love for her, but I would not at all still like her. Sometimes I just couldn’t stand the things that she does, especially the things involving me.
The fact that one of my best friends was in a band that was popular enough to have a tour around Australia made me realize how boring my life was in comparison. I mean, I wasn’t in a van with four other guys driving around the country playing music to crowds of people. Instead of being interesting like that, I was sitting here in front of my computer.
Bec says: Mon Mon!!!!!
Moni says: OMG hey!!!!
Bec says: How’s you?
Moni says: good, how are you? OMG it has been forever!
Bec says: I know, I blame a certain someone. –glares at Jack-
Bec says: I am good, tired, but good. We stayed out late last night for said evil persons birthday.
Moni says: LOL
Moni says: sounds like fun. I wish I had of been there, I’m sure it would have been a blast.
Bec says: it was a bit of fun. There was a food fight, and a few other things that we will never relive or mention. >.< size="2">searchingtheskies
Cause I’m still breathing, though we’ve been dead for a while
This sickness has no cure
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel and focused on the road ahead of me. The music was blasting loudly in my ears, loud enough to make sure that I don’t fall asleep.
We’re going down for sure
Already lost grip, best abandon ship
I would have been singing if all the others hadn’t been asleep. It was one of those things I did to calm myself down, to relax; it was like my own form of therapy.
Tonight it was just me and the road, all the boys were asleep, so I had to entertain myself. It was a long drive to the next town we were playing in. The greatest thing about being on this tour right now was the fact that we had organized it, we had made it, no label, no record company, and we did it. There was a huge sense of accomplishment that followed that.
Sure the venues were shitty, but the crowds were fantastic. Sure, we had to crew, but we could set up and pack up easily. These were the times that were going to either make us or break us as a band and so far I was loving every single minute of it, smelly van and all.
We had spent weeks on the road, rocking up to venues, rocking out and moving on. It was like a marathon, and we were all starting to get tired, but it was like a drug. Touring was like an addictive drug, in the beginning it was all amazing highs and fun, by the end it is still fun, but the high isn’t as good and it is taking a toll on your body. This tour was sure as hell taking a toll on us all, even those of us who were not even on tour.
To say I missed my friends was an understatement. I barely functioned without them, and now I found myself barely being able to talk to them. The feeling was like being left outside all alone. There was nothing else to it but simply missing home.
“Hey, you want me to drive for a while?” I turned to the source of the voice. It was Jack, the self proclaimed guitarist extraordinaire.
“Nah” I replied. “I’m okay.”
“You look tired” he said climbing into the front passenger seat. It was amazing how much your body accommodated to its living confines. We had all become able bodied and more than capable of twisting our way through even the most awkward of spaces.
I just shrugged in response.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked. Jack had taken the place of my closest friends as the person I talked to. He and I were definitely the closest of anyone in the group.
“As usual” I shrugged.
“Well can you at least let me drive, I’ve slept” he replied. “It’s a safety issue.” I rolled my eyes, he was always concerned.
“Please?” he pleaded. “I am currently enjoying my life and I kind of don’t want to die just yet.”
After some more constant nagging, I finally gave in and let him drive. It was good; it meant that I didn’t have to concentrate on the thought of driving anymore. I sat in the passenger seat with my head resting on the window, watching the dark countryside pass us by.
“Are you okay?” asked Jack.
“Yeah, I guess I am just homesick” I shrugged. It was true, I was missing my friends more than ever, I was even missing my parents.
“Yeah, I’m a little the same” he replied. “I know, it does nothing for my tough guy image, so if go telling everyone I can no longer be your friend and we will have to be sworn enemies forever.”
“Your secret is safe with me” I laughed. In truth, no matter what was going on or however I was feeling, Jack seemed to be the only one who could cheer me up appropriately. He never went too far, and he ignored the topic when he needed too, but when he thought it was needed, he hit the topic head on. He was like a best friend.
beani19
Stupid boys! Why did God have to create such senseless, emotionally devoid creatures? Why?
One minute the relationship is going great, it is all smooth sailing, the next he rips out my heart and tells me it’s not working.
I gave him so much of my life, so much, and he gave me nothing in return. Nothing.
It was times like these that I felt blessed that I had the girls. Those three stupidly funny and fantastic girls, they were the ones that were always there for me through thick and thin. I just didn’t know how I was going to tell them that we had broken up, I mean, it was still a shock to me. I really didn’t know what to do.
mywordsaremyfaith
I hated my job; there was no other way to put it. I know hate is a strong word, but God, I hated my job. It was one mindlessly numbing activity after another, not to mention the fact that I had to deal with absolute assholes all day. Fuck!
All I really wanted was a plane ticket to Australia; I wouldn’t even care if it was one way. A change would be good for me; a change is what I needed, a change is what I wanted.
If my job wasn’t stressful enough, I had to come home to a house where my mother was in one of her ‘moods’. That meant that she was on the war path and there would be no doubt that I was the one who would be in the firing line. It was days like these when all I really wanted to do was escape, I wanted to drop everything and just run away. I didn’t want to be here, I didn’t want to be part of this anymore.
Email from searchingtheskies to mywordsaremyfaith on Tuesday 23-09-2008
Hey MonMon,
Sorry that our last conversation was cut so short, I really needed to hit the hay. Not that I slept well anyway. It is seriously like sleep is my constant enemy, I can never seem to get enough of it, and then when there is that rare time when I actually can sleep, I get too much of it. Either way it doesn’t stop the feeling of me being exhausted.
Of course tour is going great, I mean, how can it not be?
I miss you guys like crazy. I really miss being able to talk to my girls every night. I never thought I’d say this, but I actually miss my family too. I’ve been so homesick of late, or at least that’s what I think it is. I have been feeling a little down, but nothing too different from normal. I am just kind of worried that maybe, at this important part in my life, just when the band has started to take off, that things are going to fall apart and I am about to go downhill.
I’m sorry to dump all that on you, but you know, I thouth you’d at least understand where I am coming from. Hopefully. And then you could tell me that I am not crazy or a freak.
Jack is telling me that it is normal and that it’s okay to feel this way, but God, I love the boy, but I wish you guys were here. Somehow I think that would make me feel a little better. It just means that I have to become stupidly famous so that I can always take you guys on tour with me. Wouldn’t that just be awesome?
So of course, I know that you’re not up at this stupid time. I am only awake because I can’t sleep.
Jack is currently driving; he kicked me out of the driver’s seat when he saw that I was tired. Truthfully I don’t blame him.
Argh I crave female company! I am not ashamed to admit it. I mean, I spend the majority of the day in a van with four other boys. I NEED FEMALES BACK IN MY LIFE, THE TESTOSTERONE IS OVERWHELMING!!!
Anyway, I guess I should try to sleep. Sorry for the pointlessness and vagueness and the lateness.
I love you. B.
I just stared at the screen blankly. No matter how many times I read it, I still couldn’t compute it all with the background noise of my mother and sister fighting. God I wish they would just give it a rest, but I know that if I get involved my life will be at risk.
I blocked them out with the best of my ability and re-read the email that I had read at least 3 times already. I missed Becca, really I did, and it was kind of a thrill to get an email from her, no matter the content.
searchingtheskies
Walking off that stage tonight
All I can hear is you
The ringing in my ears
And all I hear is you
Blinded myself on that stage tonight
All I can hear is you
The pounding in my chest
All I hear is you
You’re the voice inside my head
There is nothing worse than sitting and waiting for someone to get back to you. We had been sitting here for half the day waiting. It was like some new age form of torture.
Jack had just about worn the floor out with pacing and I was just about tearing my hair out with impatience.
This was an important call; it would make us or break us. Some industry people had caught wind of us and offered to sign us. It wasn’t a great multi-million dollar deal, but it was definitely a start. It meant that we could actually use a proper studio and make a proper record for our fans. It also meant that we would be getting a little bit more mainstream exposure, meaning that we can expand our fan-base, and maybe even go on a better tour.
It wasn’t that this tour wasn’t awesome; it was more that maybe we could actually have something that resembled a proper tour bus and even book some bigger venues. That would make the experience even better.
I was trying not to invest too much into this offer, it may all just fall through, but it was hard not to when this was so much a part of the life I was living, and so much a part of my future.
“I can’t take the suspense” sighed Jack flopping into a chair. “I mean, what if this really happens? What then?”
“Then we go and make a kick ass record” I replied, my eyes not moving from the laptop screen in front of me.
“A real record” he sighed, his eyes glazing over.
“Don’t get too excited dream boy” said Ian, “it hasn’t happened yet.”
“Yeah” added in Pat. “Besides, it’s not like they are offering us millions of dollars. We will be on a pretty tight budget.”
“Hey, we know how to make a dollar go far” I smiled.
“Stealing is not an option” laughed Ian.
“I have never stolen a thing in my life” I replied in mock outrage. I hadn’t ever shoplifted, I might have permanently borrowed a few things from friends, but take something without paying, never. I have too much of a conscience.
“I may have aided and abetted” I added as an afterthought, I could feel four pairs of raised eyebrows on me.
“That’s more along the lines of the truth” laughed Freddy. I rolled my eyes, something I had become rather good at since starting this tour.
“Okay really, why hasn’t he called?” whined Jack.
“You sound like a needy girl after a date” I laughed. “’Why hasn’t he called? He said he was going to call! Oh my God why hasn’t he called me?’”. Three pillows hit me in the head simultaneously.
“If you break my laptop you are buying me a new one” I said, putting one of the pillows behind my head. One last pillow came out of nowhere and hit me in the neck.
“I thought you were my friend Jack” I said in mock outrage.
“You thought wrong” he smiled devilishly. I couldn’t help but laugh. He was just about to retaliate to my laughter when the phone rang. The whole room went silent, all of our hearts skipping a beat.
flockmaster
Today was so shitty. Oh, it was beyond shitty. My job sucks, I have to be honest, and it really does. I think loyalty and the fact that I need constant income is the only reason I am still there. It’s not like I ever thought that being a check-out-chick was going to be fun or glamorous.
I think my job would suck a little less if my ex-boyfriend didn’t work there. There is only so much sexual innuendo, bad jokes and stupid looks that I can take in a day. He uses them all up in a matter of seconds.
In truth we ended things on very good terms, as far as break ups go. It didn’t stop him from being any less annoying though. Sometimes the whole male species could be annoying though.
mywordsaremyfaith
I hate my birthday, truly I do. It’s the one time of year that I know my mother is going to do something to upset me. It’s the one time of year I know that I will go to bed crying, or that I know I will feel completely hopeless.
The only person I felt I could talk to at these times was Bec, but she was so far away right now I don’t know if she could help. We share something in common that bonds us closer than most other people. We both suffer from depression, maybe not as badly as some, and maybe not as bad as each other, but the fact that she knew vaguely what I was going through made it so much easier for me to talk to her. It’s easy to pretend with everyone that it is okay, but when you’re talking with someone who knows all the signs, it’s those times that you end up being the most honest.
Being able to talk to Bec doesn’t stop it though. It doesn’t stop the nights where I sit with my back against the wall, tear stained cheeks, wishing for it all to end. It doesn’t stop the pain, it doesn’t stop those thoughts. It doesn’t change anything.
Sometimes I feel like being born was a waste of time. According to everything around me I wasn’t living my life right, I wasn’t normal, wouldn’t the world just be better off without me?
That was how my family made me feel anyway. Sometimes I wonder if I ran away and lived with the girls that I was so close with, the girls that I wished were my family, that suddenly everything would be okay. Suddenly my life would change and suddenly I’d be happy again.
It had been so long since I had been happy, so long since I was genuinely happy and not acting, not masked to the world.
I think if you’d lived my life, if you’d experienced the things that I had you’d hate your birthday too. Every year without fail my mother would put her foot in it and do something horrible. This year was no exception.
This year was worse. This year she said something that has been ringing in my head all night.
“You’re a waste of space Monique, you’re a waste of space and oxygen” her words were ringing in my ear like a high pitched scream. Was it true? Was I really that pathetic that I shouldn’t even be allowed to breathe?
I could feel the familiar burning in the back of my throat as the tears started to build up in my eyes. My vision was slowly getting blurrier and blurrier. Here I was again, alone, in the dark and crying.
beani19
It’s so hard to lose something that you’ve had for so long. For so long I was the girl in the relationship, the girl with the boyfriend, the happy one. I’d have never thought that I would be the one with the broken heart.
I love you, I honestly do, but I think we need a break.
How can he love me and still do this to me? If he loved me he wouldn’t need to do this.
Breaking up is a hard thing to do. I feel like I have lost a huge part of myself, I feel as if my heart had been cut out and all I have is this huge hole.
Never in my life had I ever felt that I needed to get out of here more. I need to leave this place. Everywhere I look I am reminded of him, I am reminded of us, I am reminded of what is gone.
It wasn’t you, this has nothing to do with you, it’s me. I promise you it is me.
I feel so disjointed from everything. I feel like the very reason I was living, my purpose, I feel like it has just vanished.
I just can’t do this anymore.
searchingtheskies
I couldn’t help but scream it rang throughout the entire room, breaking the silence.
“Are you fucking serious?” I screamed at Jack. “Are you fucking serious?”
“This is for real princess” he shouted back. I screamed again and ran at him. This couldn’t be happening to us. This stuff only happened in dreams, in stories, in fairytales; this sort of thing didn’t happen to people like me.
In seconds I was lifted off the ground, in seconds I was spinning through the air. I felt like I was part of some dream, I felt like everything was happening to me and I was sitting in the corner watching it all unfold.
“This is so fucking surreal” said Freddy. “We are now a signed band, a fucking signed band.”
“Jesus Mary and Joseph” I exhaled, flopping back into a seat. “This is so a dream, I’m going to wake up any second now.”
“I think we need to have a party” said Pat, smiling at us all.
“Any excuse” I laughed.
“But now we have the ULTIMATE excuse” he smiled even more.
“I guess it is party time then” smiled Jack. I just nodded.
If there was any time to celebrate something it was now.
I felt like I was a little girl again and it was the night before Christmas. I had that excited knot inside my stomach, making me nervous. I was nervous for all the right and wrong reasons. Was this the beginning of something beautiful or the beginning of a disaster?
It was the suspenseful moment in the movie, the music at fever pitch and you have no idea what is coming around the corner.
“Wait, does this mean we officially need to get a manager?” I asked. The boys all looked at me.
“For once in your life could you not be the responsible one and just fucking party, we will think about that shit tomorrow. Actually, tomorrow we will be sleeping, but the day after” replied Pat.
“I was just thinking out loud” I shrugged.
“Well stop thinking!” said Jack grabbing me by the shoulders. He knew better than to ask me to stop thinking, he knew exactly how hard it was for me to turn off my thoughts. In fact, I could be certain that I can’t, falling to sleep is my worst enemy, I can never stop thinking.
beani19
The worst thing to do after a break up is to try to live. Every single thing reminds me of him, everywhere I look memories flood back, memories of the good times, of the bad times, memories I want to forget.
I put my trust in him, I let myself go, I fell in love, and this is what I get, a broken heart. I can’t say it feels worth it.
I have been trying to keep my life going on as if nothing has happened, I am trying to act normal, but every task is a struggle. I feel empty.
I had been working for the last three hours, but I don’t think I’ve done any work. I am sitting here trying not to start crying. I don’t want to be at home right now because I know that being there would just make me feel worse. At least at work I can try to distract myself, even if I am failing right now.
I feel like I can’t talk to the girls right now either, almost like they aren’t there for me. I know it is not intentional; I blame the physical distance between us, not them. We are in different time zones and they have their own lives, I just wish I could talk to them, cry on their shoulders.
mywordsaremyfaith
This morning I had the pleasure of waking up on the floor in the bathroom. My back was aching and my throat was burning. I knew the feeling; I had spent the entire night crying, spread on the floor.
I am so glad that I the bathroom door has a lock; I wouldn’t have wanted anyone to find me in that state. That state is my little secret, my burden, I don’t want anyone to know.
No one questions why I always wear pants, why I always wear long shirts, why I always wear long sleeves. In that respect I am lucky, people don’t question me, but if they knew the truth behind everything, I am sure they’d freak out. They’d want me to get more help; they’d want to make a fuss. I don’t want attention, I don’t want anyone to notice me, I want to be left alone, I want to be invisible, I want to fly away.
I feel so stuck in this place, like I am in a walled room and there is no way out. It’s suffocating me.
I was ripped from my own pity party by the distinct sound of my phone ringing. I starred at the flashing screen, debating if I should bother answering it or not. The shrill sound of my ringtone made me give and pick it up.
“Hello?” I mumbled into the phone.
“Pack your fucking bags” came a yelling voice from the other end of the phone. They sounded more than drunk and there was a whole lot of yelling in the background. I didn’t even know what to do.
In a bit of a daze I looked at the caller ID only to be told that it was a ‘private number’. Confusion washed over me.
flockmaster
“Have a nice day”, fake smile, pack bags, fake smile, “have a nice day”. It’s an endless ritual of bullshit. Anyone that thinks being a checkout chick is at all glamorous is seriously deluded. This is the most painstaking and boring job on earth.
The only reason I am working so much is because I need the money. I have bills to pay and another semester of university coming up. Student life sucks; whoever said that it would be the best years of my life was seriously high on something. The lack of money, the stress of exams/assignments is horrible, the lack of time for anything, and the fact that on top of all of my study load I have to travel obscene amounts of time to get to university or home and work when I can to get money to pay for everything, it’s all just fucked up. Not to mention the fact that even though I am scrapping around to survive now, I am building up and bigger and bigger debt through my student loans.
Life is frustrating.
My ritual for calming down after work was to log onto the computer and talk to the girls. Everyone has been so busy lately that it has been kind of hard to do, but I’ve still had the boardies to talk to, which has helped.
You have 1 new email.
I was surprised at the fact that I had a new email. I had only been away from the computer for three hours to work an extra shift at the place commonly referred to as hell. Curiosity got the better of me and I clicked it open straight away.
Email from searchingtheskies to flockmaster on Friday 15-10-2008
Hey Meggie Moo,
Holy fucking Jesus H. Christ! You’ll never guess who just had the best possible fucking day of her life?!
Oh wait, that sooooooo gives it away, but I don’t even care. Megan you have no idea how happy I am right now. I feel like my body is about to split into two from happiness.
WE FUCKING GOT SIGNED!
I am not even joking. We are now a signed band. Fuck, you have no idea how awesome that is to type.
I am part of a signed band, I am part of a signed band. I AM PART OF A SIGNED BAND!!!!!!
Okay I am going to stop freaking out on you. But I needed to tell you. Oh my GOD!
Okay we are going to go and PARTY right now, I mean, SERIOUSLY. WE ARE SIGNED!
I love you long time.
-B.
P.S. OMFG WE ARE CUTTING THE TOUR SHORT DUE TO BEING SIGNED AND I AM COMING HOME NEXT WEEK!!!!
I think my heart just fucking exploded. I don’t even think I am breathing right now.
searchingtheskies
“Pack your fucking bags” I screamed into the phone. I didn’t know if it was a scream or a slur, whatever it was I know she could hear me. I half fell and half flopped onto the couch in front of me, life was about to get a whole lot better for all of us. That was, at least, the only thing I could hope for.
“We got signed Mon” I managed to slur out, somewhere in between the greeting confusion and the concern. There was no better way to explain anything than to simply state that I was drunk. I had been drinking all night with the boys, something that is very out of character for me, but nevertheless I did it.
We I got drunk it usually lend itself to some sort of drama or disaster. Usually it would be something slightly simple like a phone call to a friend in which I would be brutally honest. Occasionally it had lead to some drunken kissing, or even worse. One time it took me to an almost suicide moment. I guess it could be plainly seen why I avoid the stuff.
The fact that my family, extended included, abused it to its fullest probably didn’t help. In truth I had a love/hate relationship with alcohol. When I was drinking it I loved it, but when I wasn’t, I hated it.
Somehow I managed to avoid the concern and good-willed lecture from Moni and returned to my state of partying. It didn’t matter what she said to me, in five seconds I would have forgotten it, and by the morning it wouldn’t even be part of a memory.
I was secretly hoping that being signed would mean that I could bring together all my friends for the first time, that I could take away all our problems and that we could all live happily together. No matter what was going on, I needed to believe that this would happen. I wanted it so bad. I wanted to wake up tomorrow and have everything be perfect, but I know all too well that perfection is only a myth.
flockmaster
I have been trying to calm Moni down all night. She called me frantically, speaking in a rush and almost screaming at me.
She was worried, which was a normal reaction for her, she had a tendency to over analyse things and in some cases over react. Except in this instance it took me a good ten minutes to even come close to what she was talking about.
She had every right to be worried though, Bec had called her completely wasted. At our age you’d think that it would sort of be a ‘normal’ thing, or at least something that wasn’t completely unexpected, well for Bec, it wasn’t right.
She never drank. I mean never like never, and if she did, it was rarely, if at all, to excess. Something had to be wrong for her to over indulge. It had happened a few times, and each time it had ended badly, and been induced by something even worse. All this, of course, lead to the worry and concern.
“Mon calm down, I know it isn’t exactly like her, but hey, they just got signed” I soothed Moni. This international call must be costing one of us something ridiculous.
“Megan she never drinks” replied Moni, “never as in doesn’t. I know they got signed, but celebrating for her is baking food for everyone else to eat or going and indulging in expensive ice cream. The girl doesn’t drink!”
“Maybe she decided to let loose for a night or something” I replied. “I know she doesn’t always do it, but getting signed is a big deal.”
“Megan, her getting drunk is a big deal” replied Moni. “She could barely even string a sentence together.”
“She has trouble stringing a sentence together at the best of times” I replied, I was trying to joke to make the situation less tense. It usually didn’t work and just ended up making things awkward, despite lack of trying on my part.
“Megan I am worried” Moni said.
“I know Mon, and I’ll talk to her, but I don’t think we have much to be worried about” I replied to her concerned tone. I was trying my hardest to diffuse all this worry, but she wasn’t budging.
“Well, can you at least make sure she is okay and let me know?” she asked.
“Of course. I’ll call her tomorrow, and I bet she’ll have a hangover but that is it.” I smiled; a hangover was like God’s way of telling you that you’ve gone too far, it was like a hidden punishment. It didn’t matter if you knew it was coming though, it rarely stopped anyone from doing it.
mywordsaremyfaith
It had been three days since Bec had rang me, three long days.
In my mind I had every right to be worried. Here was a girl whose world was being turned upside down, here was a girl who never drank, and there she was, ringing me in the early hours of the morning completely wasted. I think I have right to worry.
Megan tried to play it down, tried to calm me down, but it didn’t work. I faked it for her, made her believe that I was fine when really I was being eaten up inside with worry.
On the one hand I was happy for her; her life was starting to come together. On the other hand I was worried, her life might seem to be coming together, but I know that it can also be the time that everything else starts to fall apart.
I knew her well enough to know that everything was not okay in her world, whether she was letting people know or not.
beani19
Something happy has come from all my wallowing. Bec got signed. This is the happiest news I’ve had in a long time and I can honestly say that I am beyond stoked. She deserves it more than anyone, and I know the things she has been through to get to where she is.
I also know that music is her passion, and she can write a song that rivals many of the famous musicians that are going around.
Maybe this was a sign that everything was looking up, maybe it was a sign that everything was about to fall apart. I don’t care; as long as it is a sign that something other than this pain is coming I am all in.
My life was slowly returning to normal, the crying was becoming less and less. I had to make it through this, there was no other option, and I had no other options.
searchingtheskies
My head was still ringing from the events of the past few nights. As a band we had gone on a few benders, celebrating mainly, and I have been getting caught up in everything.
I’ve done things I promised myself I wouldn’t.
Every night I find myself in someone else’s bed with no recollection of how I got there, at least so far I have managed to stay fully clothed. I don’t know what all this was about, but I think I am getting slightly out of control.
Suddenly our actions have no consequences; our label is picking up our tabs and paying for everything. It’s like we have nothing holding us back anymore, no restrictions, no limits, and we’ve been set free.
Rainy days on the inside, sunny smiles on the flipside
Crashing waves and sinking ships,
She’s got the softest lips.
Take me over, bleed me dry
I’ll be just fine in my own world, keep me living in a fantasy
With all these days of partying, these days of celebration, everything was becoming a bit of a blur. I was having a hard time making sense of my head anymore.
This is not me.
This is not my heart.
This is not my body.
This is not what I wanted.
I couldn’t piece together everything that was going on right now, the world seemed disjointed. I did know that our tour was now over, we didn’t need to sleep in back seats and on people floors anymore.
Our label wanted us to go straight into the studio, which made sense, but after such a long tour the thought of a break plagued my mind. I was still new to all this. This tour was one of the first big musical things I had ever done. It would be fair to say that I had become addicted, but I needed to step back, I needed to take a look at things.
We also still didn’t have a proper manager or anything. We were just a local band that had suddenly been thrust into the corporate music world. I was being thrown head first into the recording world. This was what I wanted though, right?
flockmaster
Something wasn’t right, I could feel it, but there was nothing I could do. The annoying thing about having friends so far away is that when you knew something was wrong there wasn’t a whole lot you could do. You couldn’t just jump in the car and be at their house in a matter of minutes, you couldn’t even just pick up the phone and call, and you could barely do anything but be eaten alive with worry.
I had been working to try to keep my mind of everything, trying to let my worries drift to the back of my mind, but no matter how hard I tried they still stayed there, nagging at me.
It’s hard to feel so disjointed from all your friends when you think they need your help.
mywordsaremyfaith
This is exactly what I don’t need right now. On top of everything that is going on right now my mother has gone and made it all worse.
We’ve never had a good relationship, ever. In her eyes I am a failure, I’m ungrateful and I am doing nothing with my life.
And this is where I leave it for now, I know there is nothing new in there, but it will come I promise. I am just trying to get everything in order and get myself back into the story. Writer's Block is a bitch, I swear.
The Adventures Of The Fabulous Four
He’s Just A Boy In A Band
He’s Just A Boy In A Band
The Very Beginnings
It started with a band, and it ended with a band. It was only fitting that music was the thing that brought us together, and kept us together.
We were all fans of the same band, diehard fans, that is what made us be so obsessed as to join the bands message board. We started out as strangers, completely unknown to each other, but as time progressed we got closer and closer, until it was undeniable that we were friends, best friends. The only problem for us, however, was that we were all separated by distance.
Megan (flockmaster) and Bec (searchingtheskies) both lived in Melbourne Australia, Bianca (beani19) lived in South Africa, and Moni (mywordsaremyfaith) lived in New Zealand.
The distance was all about to change, they were about to be thrown into a world together, for better, and for worse.
searchingtheskies
Life had become a stupid ritual, wake up, eat, go to sleep, the only thing that made my day to day ritual any different was the order in which those events took place.
University had been over for a while, and my summer job had come and gone. They so politely told me they no longer needed me as soon as the summer season came to an end. The job was just a way to get money to me anyway, I hadn’t even bothered to try to make any real friends with any of the people there.
So here I was, home alone, bored beyond comprehension and doing nothing.
Something happened to change my life, a friend from university called me up, they were in a band, a band I had seen so many times, I had even helped them out a few times. Why did he call?
They needed a new singer, they were sick of their old singers shit and wanted to see if I was interested. They had a small club tour of Australia coming up and they wanted to see if it could work. Being in the situation I was in there was no way I was going to turn them down; I would do anything to get out of this numbing ritual of nothing.
So the beginning of a new life started. I was singing songs, drinking, and sleeping in a van full of boys. I was living the life of a musician on tour.
I was the only person organized enough to have a laptop computer, so I soon became the only one with contact to the outside world, but more importantly, to home.
I found myself sending email after email to people I loved, just to keep them updated, and let them know that I was still alive. I also became the official blog poster on the band’s MySpace. It was only because according to everyone in the band, I was the best with words and I was the only one who was ever up enough to do it.
I was only awake so much because I couldn’t sleep.
Megan, being the only one of my close friends that was actually on the same continent as me, made it out to a few shows. They were mostly the Melbourne and Victoria shows, but it was still appreciated. The best thing about her, and my other two friends Bianca and Moni, was that they supported me no matter what. Everyone else told me I was stupid for doing this, but they told me to do what I wanted and if it was something that I wanted to do then they were there for me a hundred percent.
They were the reason I was so willing to try this out, after all, it was a small shitty club tour with four boys, there were a hell of a lot of reasons to not do it. But I did, and they helped me through every bump along the way.
The boys on tour were awesome too, we fast all became friends, and I found myself quickly adopted into the ‘little sister’ spot in the group. That was fine with me because it meant that I had four boys looking out for me wherever we went. Talk about feeling protected.
Email from searchingtheskies to flockmaster, mywordsaremyfaith, beanie19 on Wednesday 03-09-2008
Hey Moni MonMon, B Baby, and Meggie Moo (mwahahahahahahaha I used it)
How’s life treating you guys?
Fuck. I know it has been forever since I have come on the boards, and I know I am horrible at the whole facebook, livejournal thing, I am a crappy friend, I admit it. There!
As you know I have been as busy as all fuck. Life on the road with four boys is harder than it looks, and those pictures don’t do it justice. It’s night after night of shows, drinking, driving (obviously not together, duh!), sleeping, writing, practise and God knows what else.
And you know what, I LOVE IT!
I don’t actually know where we are at the moment, it being dark outside, Jack driving with his pod in and the other three sleeping. I am too nice to disturb anyone; I wish I could say the same for them.
I am so happy I conned myself into bringing the precious baby that is my laptop with me, otherwise I think I just might have gone insane. Well more insane.
What’s happening in your world across the ways there? Fuck I miss talking to you guys every night, but hey, this is getting us closer to that house where we can all live together, right? LOL.
Okay, I am going to stop rambling and try to catch some Z’s, I’m long overdue for a sleep.
Love you.
B. xo
P.S. having your period on tour with a van full of boys is not fun : [
Email had become my way of life, the easiest way to stay in contact with people and faster than sending postcard, which I did for novelty value when I could. Some towns had some funny names that needed to be sent to unsuspecting people. “Greetings from Bald Nob”, how can that not make your day???
After packing up my laptop, I curled up next to Ian, our bands very awesome drummer, and tried to sleep. Somewhere between Jack’s finger tapping, Ian’s snoring and the sound of the engine I finally fell asleep.
flockmaster
Why does my computer always make noises when I least expect it? Is it just to scare the absolute shit out of me???
After getting over the startling noise I noticed that my computer was trying to tell me that I had a new email, I am sure there was a better way to go about it, but I’ll save the reprimand for later.
You have one new email.
Well that was a new development, as if I didn’t already know.
I clicked open the new message, only to have my bad mood taken away from me. It was a message from Becca, and boy did I love getting these. They were always somewhat entertaining due to the fact that she was on tour around Australia with four boys in one van. Talk about some interesting times!
I must admit I was a little jealous, here she was having the time of her life and I was stuck here doing nothing but working as much as possible. There were bills to pay and what not.
It was weird having a friend on the road with their band, knowing someone who was starting to become part of the music scene that we had been admired for so long. It was something that I still wasn’t quite used to, I hoped that I got used to it soon though, because as far as I could tell, these guys were going to make it big. What that meant for us, I didn’t really know.
I had managed to escape away from my life for a few shows, which I enjoyed beyond comprehension. There is so much more of a connection and a thrill when you know the person on the other side of the microphone, when you’re there not only for the band, but with the band.
It was also great to escape away from university and my family for a few days. University was as much of a relief to get away from as it was to be free of my family, as much as I love them; I love our time apart too.
I wouldn’t say I have the best relationship with my parents, and I definitely don’t have the worst. It’s just that sometimes it can be really hard to stay unaffected by some of the things they say or do.
It makes me grateful for having these wonderful friends that I have managed to find. They always hear me out, no matter the situation, always are sympathetic, always willing to help. They never tell me I am ungrateful, or over reacting, they know how to make me feel better.
I was jerked back from my moment of self thought when my computer started beeping at me, trying to tell me that I had new messages. I turned the volume on the computer down and realized that Moni was messaging me. In my moment of life contemplation I had completely forgotten that I was on the computer, talk about spacing out.
searchingtheskies
If you’ve never performed in front of any sort of crowd then you’ll never know the electric feeling of being in front of an audience. No matter if they love you or hate you, there is no other feeling that can compare.
The breathlessness of being nervous, the sweaty palms gripping the microphone, the heat coming off the lights, the closeness of your band mates, there was nothing better. The applause, the adrenalin, the energy, it was something to very hard to forget and almost impossible to replicate when you walk off the stage.
How do you deal with coming down from a high like that? There is nothing that compares to the feeling and it gives you such an adrenaline rush that you don’t know what to do when you walk off stage. What could you possibly do that compares?
You do what all good rockstars do, you party. In our case it isn’t really partying, well, it is to us, but it isn’t getting trashed and feeling like shit the next day, or worse, performing hungover. The only thing that makes me feel like utter shit the next day is lack of sleep.
Our parties consisted of some people consuming alcohol, but they more involved insane amounts of sugar and stupid activities, like bowling, mini golf or even go kart racing. Of course, being the rockers that we are, we tend to get hands on in all games that we play, even board games, and wherever we go, so our ‘damages’ bills were a little high, when we paid them. Tonight of course was no exception to our crazy stunts. Most nights we really weren’t anything to wild, we’d hang out by the pool, or maybe go play some mini golf. It was rare that we really, absolutely trashed a place. To be brutally honest, our reputation was worse than it needed to be and the hotels that try to warn us about damages bills and what not really just induce their own pain.
We had decided that in honour of Jack’s birthday we’d go to the up class ‘micky d’s’ and then go and play a game of croquet. Of course, the game of croquet would be totally illegal seeing as we’d be breaking and entering. This of course would not faze anyone. It was Jack’s birthday and someone had come up with the ridiculous idea of playing croquet, so of course we were going to do it at whatever cost.
So, after playing the show of a lifetime, and giving the audience my all, I found myself sitting in a Mc Donald’s eating a less than average burger and throwing fries at the boy sitting opposite me.
“Would you quit it” said Ian, pulling a stray missile from his hair. “You are wasting perfectly good food.” Of course, he ate it, despite it having been in his unwashed hair. We were on tour; I can’t say his body saw soap on a regular basis.
“It’s fun to annoy you though” I shrugged. “Besides which, I am full.” I threw another one at his head. He sighed to himself and took the box that was half full off me. I let out a gasp of mock outrage.
“You need to learn to eat” he replied. “It’s like you eat oxygen. At least you’re not one of the 20-something year olds who are playing in the playground right now.”
“I could be” I replied slipping to the edge of my chair.
“Don’t you dare leave me alone here on my birthday with Ian!” whined Jack.
“Sometimes you guys are worse than teenage girls. Would you just get over the fact that he broke your guitar string? Just. Get. Over. It.” I sighed. I hated playing mediator.
“No” replied Jack in a huff. I rolled my eyes, boys will be boys and all that shit, but it was just a guitar string.
“ICE CREAM!” yelled Pat shoving ice cream into my face. There was no way he was getting away with that, it was war time.
mywordsaremyfaith
You know what I hate about my life right now?
The fact that I live in New Zealand. If I could live anywhere else right now it would be Australia. Not only are some of my favourite people in the world there, but one of my friend’s band, whom I undeniably love, are on a tour. I’d kill to be able to go to one of their shows.
It didn’t help that Bec kept a blog and Megan had been to a few shows, this just meant that I lived vicariously through them and just wished that I had been there. It didn’t help that I adored the band and their music, I think I was just as desperate to see them live as I was one of the ‘famous’ bands that I loved.
I couldn’t see them live though, I lived miles away, I had no money, and international road trips were not something my mother would at all approve of. I might be 20, I might be an adult, but no matter what age you are, there are still ways for your mother to rule your life.
Sure she might be my mother, but that did not mean that I always had to like her. Sure, I’d always have that family love for her, but I would not at all still like her. Sometimes I just couldn’t stand the things that she does, especially the things involving me.
The fact that one of my best friends was in a band that was popular enough to have a tour around Australia made me realize how boring my life was in comparison. I mean, I wasn’t in a van with four other guys driving around the country playing music to crowds of people. Instead of being interesting like that, I was sitting here in front of my computer.
Bec says: Mon Mon!!!!!
Moni says: OMG hey!!!!
Bec says: How’s you?
Moni says: good, how are you? OMG it has been forever!
Bec says: I know, I blame a certain someone. –glares at Jack-
Bec says: I am good, tired, but good. We stayed out late last night for said evil persons birthday.
Moni says: LOL
Moni says: sounds like fun. I wish I had of been there, I’m sure it would have been a blast.
Bec says: it was a bit of fun. There was a food fight, and a few other things that we will never relive or mention. >.< size="2">searchingtheskies
Cause I’m still breathing, though we’ve been dead for a while
This sickness has no cure
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel and focused on the road ahead of me. The music was blasting loudly in my ears, loud enough to make sure that I don’t fall asleep.
We’re going down for sure
Already lost grip, best abandon ship
I would have been singing if all the others hadn’t been asleep. It was one of those things I did to calm myself down, to relax; it was like my own form of therapy.
Tonight it was just me and the road, all the boys were asleep, so I had to entertain myself. It was a long drive to the next town we were playing in. The greatest thing about being on this tour right now was the fact that we had organized it, we had made it, no label, no record company, and we did it. There was a huge sense of accomplishment that followed that.
Sure the venues were shitty, but the crowds were fantastic. Sure, we had to crew, but we could set up and pack up easily. These were the times that were going to either make us or break us as a band and so far I was loving every single minute of it, smelly van and all.
We had spent weeks on the road, rocking up to venues, rocking out and moving on. It was like a marathon, and we were all starting to get tired, but it was like a drug. Touring was like an addictive drug, in the beginning it was all amazing highs and fun, by the end it is still fun, but the high isn’t as good and it is taking a toll on your body. This tour was sure as hell taking a toll on us all, even those of us who were not even on tour.
To say I missed my friends was an understatement. I barely functioned without them, and now I found myself barely being able to talk to them. The feeling was like being left outside all alone. There was nothing else to it but simply missing home.
“Hey, you want me to drive for a while?” I turned to the source of the voice. It was Jack, the self proclaimed guitarist extraordinaire.
“Nah” I replied. “I’m okay.”
“You look tired” he said climbing into the front passenger seat. It was amazing how much your body accommodated to its living confines. We had all become able bodied and more than capable of twisting our way through even the most awkward of spaces.
I just shrugged in response.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked. Jack had taken the place of my closest friends as the person I talked to. He and I were definitely the closest of anyone in the group.
“As usual” I shrugged.
“Well can you at least let me drive, I’ve slept” he replied. “It’s a safety issue.” I rolled my eyes, he was always concerned.
“Please?” he pleaded. “I am currently enjoying my life and I kind of don’t want to die just yet.”
After some more constant nagging, I finally gave in and let him drive. It was good; it meant that I didn’t have to concentrate on the thought of driving anymore. I sat in the passenger seat with my head resting on the window, watching the dark countryside pass us by.
“Are you okay?” asked Jack.
“Yeah, I guess I am just homesick” I shrugged. It was true, I was missing my friends more than ever, I was even missing my parents.
“Yeah, I’m a little the same” he replied. “I know, it does nothing for my tough guy image, so if go telling everyone I can no longer be your friend and we will have to be sworn enemies forever.”
“Your secret is safe with me” I laughed. In truth, no matter what was going on or however I was feeling, Jack seemed to be the only one who could cheer me up appropriately. He never went too far, and he ignored the topic when he needed too, but when he thought it was needed, he hit the topic head on. He was like a best friend.
beani19
Stupid boys! Why did God have to create such senseless, emotionally devoid creatures? Why?
One minute the relationship is going great, it is all smooth sailing, the next he rips out my heart and tells me it’s not working.
I gave him so much of my life, so much, and he gave me nothing in return. Nothing.
It was times like these that I felt blessed that I had the girls. Those three stupidly funny and fantastic girls, they were the ones that were always there for me through thick and thin. I just didn’t know how I was going to tell them that we had broken up, I mean, it was still a shock to me. I really didn’t know what to do.
mywordsaremyfaith
I hated my job; there was no other way to put it. I know hate is a strong word, but God, I hated my job. It was one mindlessly numbing activity after another, not to mention the fact that I had to deal with absolute assholes all day. Fuck!
All I really wanted was a plane ticket to Australia; I wouldn’t even care if it was one way. A change would be good for me; a change is what I needed, a change is what I wanted.
If my job wasn’t stressful enough, I had to come home to a house where my mother was in one of her ‘moods’. That meant that she was on the war path and there would be no doubt that I was the one who would be in the firing line. It was days like these when all I really wanted to do was escape, I wanted to drop everything and just run away. I didn’t want to be here, I didn’t want to be part of this anymore.
Email from searchingtheskies to mywordsaremyfaith on Tuesday 23-09-2008
Hey MonMon,
Sorry that our last conversation was cut so short, I really needed to hit the hay. Not that I slept well anyway. It is seriously like sleep is my constant enemy, I can never seem to get enough of it, and then when there is that rare time when I actually can sleep, I get too much of it. Either way it doesn’t stop the feeling of me being exhausted.
Of course tour is going great, I mean, how can it not be?
I miss you guys like crazy. I really miss being able to talk to my girls every night. I never thought I’d say this, but I actually miss my family too. I’ve been so homesick of late, or at least that’s what I think it is. I have been feeling a little down, but nothing too different from normal. I am just kind of worried that maybe, at this important part in my life, just when the band has started to take off, that things are going to fall apart and I am about to go downhill.
I’m sorry to dump all that on you, but you know, I thouth you’d at least understand where I am coming from. Hopefully. And then you could tell me that I am not crazy or a freak.
Jack is telling me that it is normal and that it’s okay to feel this way, but God, I love the boy, but I wish you guys were here. Somehow I think that would make me feel a little better. It just means that I have to become stupidly famous so that I can always take you guys on tour with me. Wouldn’t that just be awesome?
So of course, I know that you’re not up at this stupid time. I am only awake because I can’t sleep.
Jack is currently driving; he kicked me out of the driver’s seat when he saw that I was tired. Truthfully I don’t blame him.
Argh I crave female company! I am not ashamed to admit it. I mean, I spend the majority of the day in a van with four other boys. I NEED FEMALES BACK IN MY LIFE, THE TESTOSTERONE IS OVERWHELMING!!!
Anyway, I guess I should try to sleep. Sorry for the pointlessness and vagueness and the lateness.
I love you. B.
I just stared at the screen blankly. No matter how many times I read it, I still couldn’t compute it all with the background noise of my mother and sister fighting. God I wish they would just give it a rest, but I know that if I get involved my life will be at risk.
I blocked them out with the best of my ability and re-read the email that I had read at least 3 times already. I missed Becca, really I did, and it was kind of a thrill to get an email from her, no matter the content.
searchingtheskies
Walking off that stage tonight
All I can hear is you
The ringing in my ears
And all I hear is you
Blinded myself on that stage tonight
All I can hear is you
The pounding in my chest
All I hear is you
You’re the voice inside my head
There is nothing worse than sitting and waiting for someone to get back to you. We had been sitting here for half the day waiting. It was like some new age form of torture.
Jack had just about worn the floor out with pacing and I was just about tearing my hair out with impatience.
This was an important call; it would make us or break us. Some industry people had caught wind of us and offered to sign us. It wasn’t a great multi-million dollar deal, but it was definitely a start. It meant that we could actually use a proper studio and make a proper record for our fans. It also meant that we would be getting a little bit more mainstream exposure, meaning that we can expand our fan-base, and maybe even go on a better tour.
It wasn’t that this tour wasn’t awesome; it was more that maybe we could actually have something that resembled a proper tour bus and even book some bigger venues. That would make the experience even better.
I was trying not to invest too much into this offer, it may all just fall through, but it was hard not to when this was so much a part of the life I was living, and so much a part of my future.
“I can’t take the suspense” sighed Jack flopping into a chair. “I mean, what if this really happens? What then?”
“Then we go and make a kick ass record” I replied, my eyes not moving from the laptop screen in front of me.
“A real record” he sighed, his eyes glazing over.
“Don’t get too excited dream boy” said Ian, “it hasn’t happened yet.”
“Yeah” added in Pat. “Besides, it’s not like they are offering us millions of dollars. We will be on a pretty tight budget.”
“Hey, we know how to make a dollar go far” I smiled.
“Stealing is not an option” laughed Ian.
“I have never stolen a thing in my life” I replied in mock outrage. I hadn’t ever shoplifted, I might have permanently borrowed a few things from friends, but take something without paying, never. I have too much of a conscience.
“I may have aided and abetted” I added as an afterthought, I could feel four pairs of raised eyebrows on me.
“That’s more along the lines of the truth” laughed Freddy. I rolled my eyes, something I had become rather good at since starting this tour.
“Okay really, why hasn’t he called?” whined Jack.
“You sound like a needy girl after a date” I laughed. “’Why hasn’t he called? He said he was going to call! Oh my God why hasn’t he called me?’”. Three pillows hit me in the head simultaneously.
“If you break my laptop you are buying me a new one” I said, putting one of the pillows behind my head. One last pillow came out of nowhere and hit me in the neck.
“I thought you were my friend Jack” I said in mock outrage.
“You thought wrong” he smiled devilishly. I couldn’t help but laugh. He was just about to retaliate to my laughter when the phone rang. The whole room went silent, all of our hearts skipping a beat.
flockmaster
Today was so shitty. Oh, it was beyond shitty. My job sucks, I have to be honest, and it really does. I think loyalty and the fact that I need constant income is the only reason I am still there. It’s not like I ever thought that being a check-out-chick was going to be fun or glamorous.
I think my job would suck a little less if my ex-boyfriend didn’t work there. There is only so much sexual innuendo, bad jokes and stupid looks that I can take in a day. He uses them all up in a matter of seconds.
In truth we ended things on very good terms, as far as break ups go. It didn’t stop him from being any less annoying though. Sometimes the whole male species could be annoying though.
mywordsaremyfaith
I hate my birthday, truly I do. It’s the one time of year that I know my mother is going to do something to upset me. It’s the one time of year I know that I will go to bed crying, or that I know I will feel completely hopeless.
The only person I felt I could talk to at these times was Bec, but she was so far away right now I don’t know if she could help. We share something in common that bonds us closer than most other people. We both suffer from depression, maybe not as badly as some, and maybe not as bad as each other, but the fact that she knew vaguely what I was going through made it so much easier for me to talk to her. It’s easy to pretend with everyone that it is okay, but when you’re talking with someone who knows all the signs, it’s those times that you end up being the most honest.
Being able to talk to Bec doesn’t stop it though. It doesn’t stop the nights where I sit with my back against the wall, tear stained cheeks, wishing for it all to end. It doesn’t stop the pain, it doesn’t stop those thoughts. It doesn’t change anything.
Sometimes I feel like being born was a waste of time. According to everything around me I wasn’t living my life right, I wasn’t normal, wouldn’t the world just be better off without me?
That was how my family made me feel anyway. Sometimes I wonder if I ran away and lived with the girls that I was so close with, the girls that I wished were my family, that suddenly everything would be okay. Suddenly my life would change and suddenly I’d be happy again.
It had been so long since I had been happy, so long since I was genuinely happy and not acting, not masked to the world.
I think if you’d lived my life, if you’d experienced the things that I had you’d hate your birthday too. Every year without fail my mother would put her foot in it and do something horrible. This year was no exception.
This year was worse. This year she said something that has been ringing in my head all night.
“You’re a waste of space Monique, you’re a waste of space and oxygen” her words were ringing in my ear like a high pitched scream. Was it true? Was I really that pathetic that I shouldn’t even be allowed to breathe?
I could feel the familiar burning in the back of my throat as the tears started to build up in my eyes. My vision was slowly getting blurrier and blurrier. Here I was again, alone, in the dark and crying.
beani19
It’s so hard to lose something that you’ve had for so long. For so long I was the girl in the relationship, the girl with the boyfriend, the happy one. I’d have never thought that I would be the one with the broken heart.
I love you, I honestly do, but I think we need a break.
How can he love me and still do this to me? If he loved me he wouldn’t need to do this.
Breaking up is a hard thing to do. I feel like I have lost a huge part of myself, I feel as if my heart had been cut out and all I have is this huge hole.
Never in my life had I ever felt that I needed to get out of here more. I need to leave this place. Everywhere I look I am reminded of him, I am reminded of us, I am reminded of what is gone.
It wasn’t you, this has nothing to do with you, it’s me. I promise you it is me.
I feel so disjointed from everything. I feel like the very reason I was living, my purpose, I feel like it has just vanished.
I just can’t do this anymore.
searchingtheskies
I couldn’t help but scream it rang throughout the entire room, breaking the silence.
“Are you fucking serious?” I screamed at Jack. “Are you fucking serious?”
“This is for real princess” he shouted back. I screamed again and ran at him. This couldn’t be happening to us. This stuff only happened in dreams, in stories, in fairytales; this sort of thing didn’t happen to people like me.
In seconds I was lifted off the ground, in seconds I was spinning through the air. I felt like I was part of some dream, I felt like everything was happening to me and I was sitting in the corner watching it all unfold.
“This is so fucking surreal” said Freddy. “We are now a signed band, a fucking signed band.”
“Jesus Mary and Joseph” I exhaled, flopping back into a seat. “This is so a dream, I’m going to wake up any second now.”
“I think we need to have a party” said Pat, smiling at us all.
“Any excuse” I laughed.
“But now we have the ULTIMATE excuse” he smiled even more.
“I guess it is party time then” smiled Jack. I just nodded.
If there was any time to celebrate something it was now.
I felt like I was a little girl again and it was the night before Christmas. I had that excited knot inside my stomach, making me nervous. I was nervous for all the right and wrong reasons. Was this the beginning of something beautiful or the beginning of a disaster?
It was the suspenseful moment in the movie, the music at fever pitch and you have no idea what is coming around the corner.
“Wait, does this mean we officially need to get a manager?” I asked. The boys all looked at me.
“For once in your life could you not be the responsible one and just fucking party, we will think about that shit tomorrow. Actually, tomorrow we will be sleeping, but the day after” replied Pat.
“I was just thinking out loud” I shrugged.
“Well stop thinking!” said Jack grabbing me by the shoulders. He knew better than to ask me to stop thinking, he knew exactly how hard it was for me to turn off my thoughts. In fact, I could be certain that I can’t, falling to sleep is my worst enemy, I can never stop thinking.
beani19
The worst thing to do after a break up is to try to live. Every single thing reminds me of him, everywhere I look memories flood back, memories of the good times, of the bad times, memories I want to forget.
I put my trust in him, I let myself go, I fell in love, and this is what I get, a broken heart. I can’t say it feels worth it.
I have been trying to keep my life going on as if nothing has happened, I am trying to act normal, but every task is a struggle. I feel empty.
I had been working for the last three hours, but I don’t think I’ve done any work. I am sitting here trying not to start crying. I don’t want to be at home right now because I know that being there would just make me feel worse. At least at work I can try to distract myself, even if I am failing right now.
I feel like I can’t talk to the girls right now either, almost like they aren’t there for me. I know it is not intentional; I blame the physical distance between us, not them. We are in different time zones and they have their own lives, I just wish I could talk to them, cry on their shoulders.
mywordsaremyfaith
This morning I had the pleasure of waking up on the floor in the bathroom. My back was aching and my throat was burning. I knew the feeling; I had spent the entire night crying, spread on the floor.
I am so glad that I the bathroom door has a lock; I wouldn’t have wanted anyone to find me in that state. That state is my little secret, my burden, I don’t want anyone to know.
No one questions why I always wear pants, why I always wear long shirts, why I always wear long sleeves. In that respect I am lucky, people don’t question me, but if they knew the truth behind everything, I am sure they’d freak out. They’d want me to get more help; they’d want to make a fuss. I don’t want attention, I don’t want anyone to notice me, I want to be left alone, I want to be invisible, I want to fly away.
I feel so stuck in this place, like I am in a walled room and there is no way out. It’s suffocating me.
I was ripped from my own pity party by the distinct sound of my phone ringing. I starred at the flashing screen, debating if I should bother answering it or not. The shrill sound of my ringtone made me give and pick it up.
“Hello?” I mumbled into the phone.
“Pack your fucking bags” came a yelling voice from the other end of the phone. They sounded more than drunk and there was a whole lot of yelling in the background. I didn’t even know what to do.
In a bit of a daze I looked at the caller ID only to be told that it was a ‘private number’. Confusion washed over me.
flockmaster
“Have a nice day”, fake smile, pack bags, fake smile, “have a nice day”. It’s an endless ritual of bullshit. Anyone that thinks being a checkout chick is at all glamorous is seriously deluded. This is the most painstaking and boring job on earth.
The only reason I am working so much is because I need the money. I have bills to pay and another semester of university coming up. Student life sucks; whoever said that it would be the best years of my life was seriously high on something. The lack of money, the stress of exams/assignments is horrible, the lack of time for anything, and the fact that on top of all of my study load I have to travel obscene amounts of time to get to university or home and work when I can to get money to pay for everything, it’s all just fucked up. Not to mention the fact that even though I am scrapping around to survive now, I am building up and bigger and bigger debt through my student loans.
Life is frustrating.
My ritual for calming down after work was to log onto the computer and talk to the girls. Everyone has been so busy lately that it has been kind of hard to do, but I’ve still had the boardies to talk to, which has helped.
You have 1 new email.
I was surprised at the fact that I had a new email. I had only been away from the computer for three hours to work an extra shift at the place commonly referred to as hell. Curiosity got the better of me and I clicked it open straight away.
Email from searchingtheskies to flockmaster on Friday 15-10-2008
Hey Meggie Moo,
Holy fucking Jesus H. Christ! You’ll never guess who just had the best possible fucking day of her life?!
Oh wait, that sooooooo gives it away, but I don’t even care. Megan you have no idea how happy I am right now. I feel like my body is about to split into two from happiness.
WE FUCKING GOT SIGNED!
I am not even joking. We are now a signed band. Fuck, you have no idea how awesome that is to type.
I am part of a signed band, I am part of a signed band. I AM PART OF A SIGNED BAND!!!!!!
Okay I am going to stop freaking out on you. But I needed to tell you. Oh my GOD!
Okay we are going to go and PARTY right now, I mean, SERIOUSLY. WE ARE SIGNED!
I love you long time.
-B.
P.S. OMFG WE ARE CUTTING THE TOUR SHORT DUE TO BEING SIGNED AND I AM COMING HOME NEXT WEEK!!!!
I think my heart just fucking exploded. I don’t even think I am breathing right now.
searchingtheskies
“Pack your fucking bags” I screamed into the phone. I didn’t know if it was a scream or a slur, whatever it was I know she could hear me. I half fell and half flopped onto the couch in front of me, life was about to get a whole lot better for all of us. That was, at least, the only thing I could hope for.
“We got signed Mon” I managed to slur out, somewhere in between the greeting confusion and the concern. There was no better way to explain anything than to simply state that I was drunk. I had been drinking all night with the boys, something that is very out of character for me, but nevertheless I did it.
We I got drunk it usually lend itself to some sort of drama or disaster. Usually it would be something slightly simple like a phone call to a friend in which I would be brutally honest. Occasionally it had lead to some drunken kissing, or even worse. One time it took me to an almost suicide moment. I guess it could be plainly seen why I avoid the stuff.
The fact that my family, extended included, abused it to its fullest probably didn’t help. In truth I had a love/hate relationship with alcohol. When I was drinking it I loved it, but when I wasn’t, I hated it.
Somehow I managed to avoid the concern and good-willed lecture from Moni and returned to my state of partying. It didn’t matter what she said to me, in five seconds I would have forgotten it, and by the morning it wouldn’t even be part of a memory.
I was secretly hoping that being signed would mean that I could bring together all my friends for the first time, that I could take away all our problems and that we could all live happily together. No matter what was going on, I needed to believe that this would happen. I wanted it so bad. I wanted to wake up tomorrow and have everything be perfect, but I know all too well that perfection is only a myth.
flockmaster
I have been trying to calm Moni down all night. She called me frantically, speaking in a rush and almost screaming at me.
She was worried, which was a normal reaction for her, she had a tendency to over analyse things and in some cases over react. Except in this instance it took me a good ten minutes to even come close to what she was talking about.
She had every right to be worried though, Bec had called her completely wasted. At our age you’d think that it would sort of be a ‘normal’ thing, or at least something that wasn’t completely unexpected, well for Bec, it wasn’t right.
She never drank. I mean never like never, and if she did, it was rarely, if at all, to excess. Something had to be wrong for her to over indulge. It had happened a few times, and each time it had ended badly, and been induced by something even worse. All this, of course, lead to the worry and concern.
“Mon calm down, I know it isn’t exactly like her, but hey, they just got signed” I soothed Moni. This international call must be costing one of us something ridiculous.
“Megan she never drinks” replied Moni, “never as in doesn’t. I know they got signed, but celebrating for her is baking food for everyone else to eat or going and indulging in expensive ice cream. The girl doesn’t drink!”
“Maybe she decided to let loose for a night or something” I replied. “I know she doesn’t always do it, but getting signed is a big deal.”
“Megan, her getting drunk is a big deal” replied Moni. “She could barely even string a sentence together.”
“She has trouble stringing a sentence together at the best of times” I replied, I was trying to joke to make the situation less tense. It usually didn’t work and just ended up making things awkward, despite lack of trying on my part.
“Megan I am worried” Moni said.
“I know Mon, and I’ll talk to her, but I don’t think we have much to be worried about” I replied to her concerned tone. I was trying my hardest to diffuse all this worry, but she wasn’t budging.
“Well, can you at least make sure she is okay and let me know?” she asked.
“Of course. I’ll call her tomorrow, and I bet she’ll have a hangover but that is it.” I smiled; a hangover was like God’s way of telling you that you’ve gone too far, it was like a hidden punishment. It didn’t matter if you knew it was coming though, it rarely stopped anyone from doing it.
mywordsaremyfaith
It had been three days since Bec had rang me, three long days.
In my mind I had every right to be worried. Here was a girl whose world was being turned upside down, here was a girl who never drank, and there she was, ringing me in the early hours of the morning completely wasted. I think I have right to worry.
Megan tried to play it down, tried to calm me down, but it didn’t work. I faked it for her, made her believe that I was fine when really I was being eaten up inside with worry.
On the one hand I was happy for her; her life was starting to come together. On the other hand I was worried, her life might seem to be coming together, but I know that it can also be the time that everything else starts to fall apart.
I knew her well enough to know that everything was not okay in her world, whether she was letting people know or not.
beani19
Something happy has come from all my wallowing. Bec got signed. This is the happiest news I’ve had in a long time and I can honestly say that I am beyond stoked. She deserves it more than anyone, and I know the things she has been through to get to where she is.
I also know that music is her passion, and she can write a song that rivals many of the famous musicians that are going around.
Maybe this was a sign that everything was looking up, maybe it was a sign that everything was about to fall apart. I don’t care; as long as it is a sign that something other than this pain is coming I am all in.
My life was slowly returning to normal, the crying was becoming less and less. I had to make it through this, there was no other option, and I had no other options.
searchingtheskies
My head was still ringing from the events of the past few nights. As a band we had gone on a few benders, celebrating mainly, and I have been getting caught up in everything.
I’ve done things I promised myself I wouldn’t.
Every night I find myself in someone else’s bed with no recollection of how I got there, at least so far I have managed to stay fully clothed. I don’t know what all this was about, but I think I am getting slightly out of control.
Suddenly our actions have no consequences; our label is picking up our tabs and paying for everything. It’s like we have nothing holding us back anymore, no restrictions, no limits, and we’ve been set free.
Rainy days on the inside, sunny smiles on the flipside
Crashing waves and sinking ships,
She’s got the softest lips.
Take me over, bleed me dry
I’ll be just fine in my own world, keep me living in a fantasy
With all these days of partying, these days of celebration, everything was becoming a bit of a blur. I was having a hard time making sense of my head anymore.
This is not me.
This is not my heart.
This is not my body.
This is not what I wanted.
I couldn’t piece together everything that was going on right now, the world seemed disjointed. I did know that our tour was now over, we didn’t need to sleep in back seats and on people floors anymore.
Our label wanted us to go straight into the studio, which made sense, but after such a long tour the thought of a break plagued my mind. I was still new to all this. This tour was one of the first big musical things I had ever done. It would be fair to say that I had become addicted, but I needed to step back, I needed to take a look at things.
We also still didn’t have a proper manager or anything. We were just a local band that had suddenly been thrust into the corporate music world. I was being thrown head first into the recording world. This was what I wanted though, right?
flockmaster
Something wasn’t right, I could feel it, but there was nothing I could do. The annoying thing about having friends so far away is that when you knew something was wrong there wasn’t a whole lot you could do. You couldn’t just jump in the car and be at their house in a matter of minutes, you couldn’t even just pick up the phone and call, and you could barely do anything but be eaten alive with worry.
I had been working to try to keep my mind of everything, trying to let my worries drift to the back of my mind, but no matter how hard I tried they still stayed there, nagging at me.
It’s hard to feel so disjointed from all your friends when you think they need your help.
mywordsaremyfaith
This is exactly what I don’t need right now. On top of everything that is going on right now my mother has gone and made it all worse.
We’ve never had a good relationship, ever. In her eyes I am a failure, I’m ungrateful and I am doing nothing with my life.
And this is where I leave it for now, I know there is nothing new in there, but it will come I promise. I am just trying to get everything in order and get myself back into the story. Writer's Block is a bitch, I swear.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Whipe Off That Makeup, What's In Is Despair
Work in progress, incomplete.
ONE:
Simple moments change your life.
This statement rings true for me, on so many levels.At any given moment we have a choice. Do I want water or juice with lunch? Do I get the train home or catch a cab? The blue or black dress? Left or right?
They all make a difference, they all add up. Choices and moments, they can make and break your life. Every little thing adds up and brings you to where you are today; every little thing has added up and brought me to where I am today.
Here I am, sitting at my desk, working hard and nursing the headache from hell. I knew I had the headache because I was working too hard, because I was having trouble sleeping. I should have taken the day off, I should be resting, but here I am sitting at my desk, sick as a dog.
I couldn’t take it anymore, the pounding in my head, the bright computer screen, I needed to go home.
I packed up my things quickly, patching a quick call through to my boss explaining why I was leaving. The moment I hung up I thought about ringing my boyfriend to tell him I’d be home early, but I thought the better of it. He was probably working and wouldn’t want to be disturbed.
I jumped into the nearest cab, wanting to get home as quick as possible. I hated days like this, days when everything became too much to bear.
I couldn’t wait to get home.
I dragged myself from the cab to the stairs of my apartment, scrambling through my bag for my keys. It was bright and sunny, making me feel like an idiot for forgetting my sunglasses. After five minutes of searching I finally found my keys, dropping them once before finally getting the door open.
In triumph I dropped my bag at the door, kicking it shut with my feet.
“Daniel it’s me” I called out into the apartment. “Daniel?” I called again when no answer came. It was rare that he wasn’t home, he was a writer. He barely left the house unless he needed to when he was writing, and now was one of those times.
“Dan?” I asked, pulling my off the jacket to my work suit and walking towards the bedroom. “Daniel?”
I pulled open the door to the bedroom; it felt weird that Daniel wasn’t home.
As small startled scream escaped my mouth as I was hit with the scene in front of me. “Oh my God” I breathed.
“Becca!” came a startled response from Daniel. “This isn’t what it looks like...” he trailed off. We both knew he was lying.
In front of me was something that I would never have to witness. In front of me was my boyfriend of three years and my best friend, naked and in my bed. There was nothing that needed to be explained to me, there was nothing that was unclear.
At that moment questions were running through my pounding head, anger was building up, hurt was bubbling over, I didn’t know what to do. Clutching my jacket tightly in my hands I ran, ran through the now unlocked door and down the steps I had stumbled up earlier.
“Becca wait!” I heard him shout, but I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t need to hear it, I needed to get away. Clutching my things to my chest I ran down the street, not caring where I was going or where I ended up.
How could he do this to me? How? After everything we had done together, after all the time we’d been together. I was beyond hurt; tears were streaming down my cheeks.
I spent hours just walking the streets, heels in hand, makeup running down my face as the tears continued to run. I couldn’t, no I wouldn’t go home, but I didn’t know where else to go. Everyone I knew was somehow connected to Daniel, everyone that I could go see would remind me of Daniel. We had been together for so long; our worlds had merged into one.
I didn’t know exactly how long I had been walking around for, but I knew it was starting to get late. The sun was on its way down and it was starting to get cold. I looked around for a cab, searching the empty streets.
I was reaching through my bag for my phone when everything went black.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Stupidly she fought against the restraints that bound her, it was instinct, he knew, but that didn’t make it any less amusing. In the corner he sat, he waited. When she finally gave up he would show himself. He’d been watching her for years, what were a few more hours?
Everything had gone according to plan, her stupid boyfriend had done exactly what he thought he would, and she had reacted the way he expected. Now she was his, all his, and there was no one who could get in his way.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I was tied up to what seemed to be a bed, I didn’t know if it was rope or leather around my wrists and ankles, but whatever it was it was doing its job. I couldn’t move.
Despite the fact that I knew struggling was useless, I kept trying to break free, wishing that my binds would just break.
I didn’t know where I was, or who had taken me, but I did know that wherever I was, I didn’t feel safe.
The room around me was dark, and the bed was hard. There was no other furniture, no couches, no chairs, no other shapes I could make out. I couldn’t even tell if there was a window, I couldn’t really see far enough to make out the walls.
“You should stop struggling, it really is worthless” said a voice from the darkness. I didn’t know exactly where it had come from, but it sounded amused.
“Who are you?” I asked tentatively, my voice hoarse in the dark room.
“Does it matter?” laughed the voice.
“It matters to me” I replied softly. I could feel the welling of tears in my eyes, I bit down on my bottom lip in defiance, I wasn’t going to cry. I would not let myself cry.
“Why?” they laughed. “So you know what name to scream?”
“Scream?” the question escaped my lips before I had time to think. It was a stupid question; of course I would need to scream. I was with some sick and twisted person who wanted to torture me in every possible way.
“What are you going to do to me?” I asked in a soft whisper. Wouldn’t it be better to be prepared? To know at least in advance what to expect?
“Ah sugar, that would be ruining the surprise now wouldn’t it?” came the amused reply. I had a feeling that I was in no way, shape or form going to enjoy this surprise.
“For now I think you can wait” they sneered. “Let the excitement build.”
I felt sick to my stomach. What was this sick bastard going to do to me? Better yet, why me?
I wasn’t someone special, I wasn’t someone of worth to kidnap and torture. They would get nothing out of it, no one would come looking for me, and no one would pay a ransom for me. Daniel would give up hope after a few weeks, move on and forget me. I’m sure he’d settle back into his life with ‘the other woman’ just fine.
My heart sank. How could I not have known? How could I have been so stupid?
This person had me for as long as they wanted me and no one would care. My family had cut me off; they had gone so far as to disown me. The only person who I thought cared for me was cheating on me, I was worthless.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
He smiled as he walked out the door, locking her into the room. Everything had gone according to plan, but he still had one thing to deal with; her stupid boyfriend. He had so much as crushed her, and that did not sit well with him. Her boyfriend had taken her for granted and now he had to pay, he had to know exactly what he had lost.
“Watch my girl for me Bob” he muttered as he started for the door.
“Gee what is all this about?” asked Bob from the couch in the corner. “Why is she here? What exactly are you up to?”
“Nothing” shrugged the other man. “Just watch her Bob, and stop asking questions.” Bob rolled his eyes and shrugged.
“Fine” muttered Bob from the couch, he knew the girl couldn’t escape even if she was a genius. Gerard wouldn’t have been that sloppy, the man was like a machine, exact, perfect, calculated, reserved and he had never made a mistake. Not once, in all the time that Bob had known him he had never once made a mistake.
“I’ll be back soon” said Gerard before walking out the door. Bob sighed as the door slammed shut, in all the time that he had known Gerard nothing had changed.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I struggled against the restraints that bound me. This couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t. It had to be some sort of nightmare. This was not real.
I would wake up tomorrow and everything would be fine. I’d wake up in my own bed, my headache would be gone and Daniel would be there, lying next to me. Everything would be fine, life would go back to normal and this nightmare would be nothing but a distant memory.
This was a dream; this whole thing was a dream. I just needed to wake up.
I heard the door creak open and then shut softly, the small moment of light hurting my sensitive eyes.
“Honey I’m home” the voice from before was back. This time he sounded happier, almost as if he was a child who had just gotten exactly what he wanted for Christmas. I didn’t reply, I didn’t say anything. Just because this was all a dream, it didn’t mean I had to fight fair.
ONE:
Simple moments change your life.
This statement rings true for me, on so many levels.At any given moment we have a choice. Do I want water or juice with lunch? Do I get the train home or catch a cab? The blue or black dress? Left or right?
They all make a difference, they all add up. Choices and moments, they can make and break your life. Every little thing adds up and brings you to where you are today; every little thing has added up and brought me to where I am today.
Here I am, sitting at my desk, working hard and nursing the headache from hell. I knew I had the headache because I was working too hard, because I was having trouble sleeping. I should have taken the day off, I should be resting, but here I am sitting at my desk, sick as a dog.
I couldn’t take it anymore, the pounding in my head, the bright computer screen, I needed to go home.
I packed up my things quickly, patching a quick call through to my boss explaining why I was leaving. The moment I hung up I thought about ringing my boyfriend to tell him I’d be home early, but I thought the better of it. He was probably working and wouldn’t want to be disturbed.
I jumped into the nearest cab, wanting to get home as quick as possible. I hated days like this, days when everything became too much to bear.
I couldn’t wait to get home.
I dragged myself from the cab to the stairs of my apartment, scrambling through my bag for my keys. It was bright and sunny, making me feel like an idiot for forgetting my sunglasses. After five minutes of searching I finally found my keys, dropping them once before finally getting the door open.
In triumph I dropped my bag at the door, kicking it shut with my feet.
“Daniel it’s me” I called out into the apartment. “Daniel?” I called again when no answer came. It was rare that he wasn’t home, he was a writer. He barely left the house unless he needed to when he was writing, and now was one of those times.
“Dan?” I asked, pulling my off the jacket to my work suit and walking towards the bedroom. “Daniel?”
I pulled open the door to the bedroom; it felt weird that Daniel wasn’t home.
As small startled scream escaped my mouth as I was hit with the scene in front of me. “Oh my God” I breathed.
“Becca!” came a startled response from Daniel. “This isn’t what it looks like...” he trailed off. We both knew he was lying.
In front of me was something that I would never have to witness. In front of me was my boyfriend of three years and my best friend, naked and in my bed. There was nothing that needed to be explained to me, there was nothing that was unclear.
At that moment questions were running through my pounding head, anger was building up, hurt was bubbling over, I didn’t know what to do. Clutching my jacket tightly in my hands I ran, ran through the now unlocked door and down the steps I had stumbled up earlier.
“Becca wait!” I heard him shout, but I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t need to hear it, I needed to get away. Clutching my things to my chest I ran down the street, not caring where I was going or where I ended up.
How could he do this to me? How? After everything we had done together, after all the time we’d been together. I was beyond hurt; tears were streaming down my cheeks.
I spent hours just walking the streets, heels in hand, makeup running down my face as the tears continued to run. I couldn’t, no I wouldn’t go home, but I didn’t know where else to go. Everyone I knew was somehow connected to Daniel, everyone that I could go see would remind me of Daniel. We had been together for so long; our worlds had merged into one.
I didn’t know exactly how long I had been walking around for, but I knew it was starting to get late. The sun was on its way down and it was starting to get cold. I looked around for a cab, searching the empty streets.
I was reaching through my bag for my phone when everything went black.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Stupidly she fought against the restraints that bound her, it was instinct, he knew, but that didn’t make it any less amusing. In the corner he sat, he waited. When she finally gave up he would show himself. He’d been watching her for years, what were a few more hours?
Everything had gone according to plan, her stupid boyfriend had done exactly what he thought he would, and she had reacted the way he expected. Now she was his, all his, and there was no one who could get in his way.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I was tied up to what seemed to be a bed, I didn’t know if it was rope or leather around my wrists and ankles, but whatever it was it was doing its job. I couldn’t move.
Despite the fact that I knew struggling was useless, I kept trying to break free, wishing that my binds would just break.
I didn’t know where I was, or who had taken me, but I did know that wherever I was, I didn’t feel safe.
The room around me was dark, and the bed was hard. There was no other furniture, no couches, no chairs, no other shapes I could make out. I couldn’t even tell if there was a window, I couldn’t really see far enough to make out the walls.
“You should stop struggling, it really is worthless” said a voice from the darkness. I didn’t know exactly where it had come from, but it sounded amused.
“Who are you?” I asked tentatively, my voice hoarse in the dark room.
“Does it matter?” laughed the voice.
“It matters to me” I replied softly. I could feel the welling of tears in my eyes, I bit down on my bottom lip in defiance, I wasn’t going to cry. I would not let myself cry.
“Why?” they laughed. “So you know what name to scream?”
“Scream?” the question escaped my lips before I had time to think. It was a stupid question; of course I would need to scream. I was with some sick and twisted person who wanted to torture me in every possible way.
“What are you going to do to me?” I asked in a soft whisper. Wouldn’t it be better to be prepared? To know at least in advance what to expect?
“Ah sugar, that would be ruining the surprise now wouldn’t it?” came the amused reply. I had a feeling that I was in no way, shape or form going to enjoy this surprise.
“For now I think you can wait” they sneered. “Let the excitement build.”
I felt sick to my stomach. What was this sick bastard going to do to me? Better yet, why me?
I wasn’t someone special, I wasn’t someone of worth to kidnap and torture. They would get nothing out of it, no one would come looking for me, and no one would pay a ransom for me. Daniel would give up hope after a few weeks, move on and forget me. I’m sure he’d settle back into his life with ‘the other woman’ just fine.
My heart sank. How could I not have known? How could I have been so stupid?
This person had me for as long as they wanted me and no one would care. My family had cut me off; they had gone so far as to disown me. The only person who I thought cared for me was cheating on me, I was worthless.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
He smiled as he walked out the door, locking her into the room. Everything had gone according to plan, but he still had one thing to deal with; her stupid boyfriend. He had so much as crushed her, and that did not sit well with him. Her boyfriend had taken her for granted and now he had to pay, he had to know exactly what he had lost.
“Watch my girl for me Bob” he muttered as he started for the door.
“Gee what is all this about?” asked Bob from the couch in the corner. “Why is she here? What exactly are you up to?”
“Nothing” shrugged the other man. “Just watch her Bob, and stop asking questions.” Bob rolled his eyes and shrugged.
“Fine” muttered Bob from the couch, he knew the girl couldn’t escape even if she was a genius. Gerard wouldn’t have been that sloppy, the man was like a machine, exact, perfect, calculated, reserved and he had never made a mistake. Not once, in all the time that Bob had known him he had never once made a mistake.
“I’ll be back soon” said Gerard before walking out the door. Bob sighed as the door slammed shut, in all the time that he had known Gerard nothing had changed.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I struggled against the restraints that bound me. This couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t. It had to be some sort of nightmare. This was not real.
I would wake up tomorrow and everything would be fine. I’d wake up in my own bed, my headache would be gone and Daniel would be there, lying next to me. Everything would be fine, life would go back to normal and this nightmare would be nothing but a distant memory.
This was a dream; this whole thing was a dream. I just needed to wake up.
I heard the door creak open and then shut softly, the small moment of light hurting my sensitive eyes.
“Honey I’m home” the voice from before was back. This time he sounded happier, almost as if he was a child who had just gotten exactly what he wanted for Christmas. I didn’t reply, I didn’t say anything. Just because this was all a dream, it didn’t mean I had to fight fair.
Friday, September 19, 2008
not exactly finished, and completely untitled, but rather personal
You sit by yourself, back against the wall, wondering how it came to this. What stupid little thing made it all come to this? How did it get so bad?You were a happy child, always smiling, always laughing, but what everyone didn’t know was that it was all a cover. Every day was spent trying to make sure that everyone didn’t notice the dark monster eating you alive slowly.
It doesn’t matter anyway, because it has all lead you to this moment anyway. This deep dark moment, you’re sitting alone, pressed against the cold wall. Tears stream down your face, like they are trying desperately to get back to the earth, to get away from you.
Isolation is a one way street. The cold hard fact is that you put yourself here, you isolated yourself from everyone. But they wouldn’t understand would they? They don’t get it do they?
There is no comfort in this, sitting alone, crying to yourself again. It’s pathetic, you’re pathetic and you know it.
Insecurities plague you like the flies in the summer; it’s hard to see a life where you’re not fighting to reach that pedestal that is always out of your grasp.
Your arms grasp your legs, pulling them against your heaving chest. Tears continue to run down your cheeks as you sob, like a child, desperately hoping for everything to just go away.
If it would leave you, if you could live without it, wouldn’t life be so much better? Wouldn’t you be able to live so much easier?
Right now everything is a struggle, a fight on a daily basis. Some days it is so bad you can’t even get yourself out of bed, other days you can’t eat, and then there are the days where you are so detached from everything it’s like you were never there anyway. It’s gotten to the point where you can’t see yourself living like this anymore; it’s just too much to take. Nobody wants to have to give themselves some stupid fake pep talk before they do simple every day things; nobody wants to be so unmotivated they can’t stand in the shower. It’s not living.
It begs the question; would everything be better if it was gone? Would it be better if you didn’t have to do it anymore? Surely the world would be a better place without you, there is no one who would miss you right?
Here you are, dejected, isolated and alone, crying to yourself, tears of pain that no one knows about, that no one will hear. Here you sit, gasping for air as your lungs and throat burn from crying, in the dark thinking of nothing but dying.
There are so many different ways you could do it, so many options. You could go for your wrists, you could drown yourself in the bathtub, you could jump in front of a train, take all your medication, it’s scary to think that all these things are running through your head.
Life wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to get easier, you weren’t supposed to be another statistic, and you weren’t supposed to be someone who died so young. Yet here you are.
You never thought that you’d be the person who was the suicide risk; you never thought you’d be the person so desperate, so depressed that the only solution you could see was ending your own life. How pathetic is that?
You can imagine it all now; everyone apologetically dressed in black, standing around remembering what you used to be before all this. They’ll remember when you were young, when you were carefree. They probably wouldn’t know that most of it seems like it was a lie. Time will pass, and eventually they’ll forget.
So everything has come down to this moment, this one lonely dark moment. Is this the time when you call it quits? Is then when you walk away and say I tried? Is this the end of the story?
You’re so tired, sick of fighting everything, sick of not being able to sleep, sick of not being able to get away from your own thoughts, sick of feeling so useless, so stupid, so alone, so sad, so helpless, it’s not the life you wanted. It’s not a life at all.
But giving up now would be too easy; giving up now would mean that all the months of hard work would have gone to waste. It would mean that opening up to a complete stranger and spilling every little minute detail of your life in 45 minute blocks would be pointless.
It’s just hard to see anything getting better; it’s hard to think about life without feeling this way. Everything just feels hopeless and there is no getting away from it. It is a sinking feeling, deep in the pit of your stomach, taking you over slowly. It’s a brick weighing down on your chest and there is no escape.
Family creeps into your head, their smiling faces, childhood memories, everything that would make what you want to do hard. Suddenly it all doesn’t seem so easy to end. Suddenly you have people who would miss you, people who would be disappointed by you, people who you will be letting down.
You continue to hug your legs, your tears have stopped and your eyes are drying. Tiredness is overcoming you, but still you sit there. Still you feel helpless; still you want it to end.
You sit there and let the time tick by, the time that you can never get back, but the time you don’t want to have. Slowly you fall asleep and your darkest moment fades away, you’re most vulnerable moment ends, you got through it. But it’s a battle every day, because your biggest fear is that one day this moment will come back, and maybe one day you won’t be able to turn it down.
It doesn’t matter anyway, because it has all lead you to this moment anyway. This deep dark moment, you’re sitting alone, pressed against the cold wall. Tears stream down your face, like they are trying desperately to get back to the earth, to get away from you.
Isolation is a one way street. The cold hard fact is that you put yourself here, you isolated yourself from everyone. But they wouldn’t understand would they? They don’t get it do they?
There is no comfort in this, sitting alone, crying to yourself again. It’s pathetic, you’re pathetic and you know it.
Insecurities plague you like the flies in the summer; it’s hard to see a life where you’re not fighting to reach that pedestal that is always out of your grasp.
Your arms grasp your legs, pulling them against your heaving chest. Tears continue to run down your cheeks as you sob, like a child, desperately hoping for everything to just go away.
If it would leave you, if you could live without it, wouldn’t life be so much better? Wouldn’t you be able to live so much easier?
Right now everything is a struggle, a fight on a daily basis. Some days it is so bad you can’t even get yourself out of bed, other days you can’t eat, and then there are the days where you are so detached from everything it’s like you were never there anyway. It’s gotten to the point where you can’t see yourself living like this anymore; it’s just too much to take. Nobody wants to have to give themselves some stupid fake pep talk before they do simple every day things; nobody wants to be so unmotivated they can’t stand in the shower. It’s not living.
It begs the question; would everything be better if it was gone? Would it be better if you didn’t have to do it anymore? Surely the world would be a better place without you, there is no one who would miss you right?
Here you are, dejected, isolated and alone, crying to yourself, tears of pain that no one knows about, that no one will hear. Here you sit, gasping for air as your lungs and throat burn from crying, in the dark thinking of nothing but dying.
There are so many different ways you could do it, so many options. You could go for your wrists, you could drown yourself in the bathtub, you could jump in front of a train, take all your medication, it’s scary to think that all these things are running through your head.
Life wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to get easier, you weren’t supposed to be another statistic, and you weren’t supposed to be someone who died so young. Yet here you are.
You never thought that you’d be the person who was the suicide risk; you never thought you’d be the person so desperate, so depressed that the only solution you could see was ending your own life. How pathetic is that?
You can imagine it all now; everyone apologetically dressed in black, standing around remembering what you used to be before all this. They’ll remember when you were young, when you were carefree. They probably wouldn’t know that most of it seems like it was a lie. Time will pass, and eventually they’ll forget.
So everything has come down to this moment, this one lonely dark moment. Is this the time when you call it quits? Is then when you walk away and say I tried? Is this the end of the story?
You’re so tired, sick of fighting everything, sick of not being able to sleep, sick of not being able to get away from your own thoughts, sick of feeling so useless, so stupid, so alone, so sad, so helpless, it’s not the life you wanted. It’s not a life at all.
But giving up now would be too easy; giving up now would mean that all the months of hard work would have gone to waste. It would mean that opening up to a complete stranger and spilling every little minute detail of your life in 45 minute blocks would be pointless.
It’s just hard to see anything getting better; it’s hard to think about life without feeling this way. Everything just feels hopeless and there is no getting away from it. It is a sinking feeling, deep in the pit of your stomach, taking you over slowly. It’s a brick weighing down on your chest and there is no escape.
Family creeps into your head, their smiling faces, childhood memories, everything that would make what you want to do hard. Suddenly it all doesn’t seem so easy to end. Suddenly you have people who would miss you, people who would be disappointed by you, people who you will be letting down.
You continue to hug your legs, your tears have stopped and your eyes are drying. Tiredness is overcoming you, but still you sit there. Still you feel helpless; still you want it to end.
You sit there and let the time tick by, the time that you can never get back, but the time you don’t want to have. Slowly you fall asleep and your darkest moment fades away, you’re most vulnerable moment ends, you got through it. But it’s a battle every day, because your biggest fear is that one day this moment will come back, and maybe one day you won’t be able to turn it down.
Innocence
Note: This is a really old short/small story I wrote for an English assignment, it is completely fictional and was written a fair while ago. I haven't rewritten it or edited since it was written. I don't deny that things like this most definately do take place, but this is a fictional story.
Panic overcame her, when the first gunshots emerged from the silence. They were here. She began to shake, and the putrid scent of fear filled the air around her. In silence she stumbled forward, searching for a new hiding place. Frantically she pulled herself behind a small bush. Her sharp breaths piercing the silence around her. Cautiously she glimpsed through the branches, and peered in the direction that was once her home. Amber glowed in the night sky, and the strong pungent smell of smoke and burnt flesh hit her. It repulsed her, and silently into the night she vomited. She knew she needed to move, to continue on, staying in one place would inevitably end in death. There was no need for her to lie to herself, she knew what would happen if she was caught. No one ever escaped their terror.
Moving quickly through the forest she listened, but the sounds of terror still lingered around her, reminding her of them. Her destination was days away from where she was. It would be a hard journey without food or proper rest, but she needed to get there. She had to get there. Safety waited for her there, the gift of life waited there. They would be unable to reach her, once there she would become untouchable. She kept going until she was unable to continue, until her frail body refused to push on, to be pushed by her any further. Rest was what she needed, and silently she curled her body into a small ball, pushing herself into the smallest gap between harsh, rough rocks. In minutes she was asleep and restlessly dreaming, re-living the screams that haunted her. Her mind creating images that went with the screams, her family in front of her eyes, suffering, dying.
She awoke with a start, she had heard a noise, it sounded very close. She pushed her back harder against the rocks, feeling their coarse edges digging into her soft flesh, she did not move. You could not hear her pain, nor could you see it. She sat there silently with her eyes tightly shut, and she could feel the warm liquid softly trickle down her smooth back. Moments passed, nothing happened, so she took a chance and quickly began moving again. Weaving her way throughout the forest, hiding in the shadows.
Her father was a diplomat. Her country’s new government didn’t like diplomats, they refused to acknowledge their status. He was party of an unwanted and ever shrinking minority, which the new government had slowly begun exterminating. Removing each person from society, leaving no trace of his or her existence. Each day a new family was gone, missing. No one questioned their authority, to question would be to sign your own death certificate. They would hunt her down, they would kill her just as they had her family. She was unaware of the sun slowly rising, she didn’t notice the light creeping into the forest or the shadows retreating back into the depths of the forest.
He noticed the light creeping into the forest, and like he was trained, he swiftly removed the night vision goggles from his head and watched her as she fumbled on. She wouldn’t last much longer, he knew. He had followed her tracks, and was now waiting for the opportunity to strike her down. For what seemed like hours he stalked her through the forest, she was unaware of his existence.
Now the sun was glaring down on her as she approached the raging river. The water moved swiftly and roughly. She looked into the river and heard his soft footsteps crush the earth behind her. She closed her eyes and looked up to heaven, and she offered a small prayer to her God, before slowly turning to face her awaiting fate. She looked into his eyes searching for a glimmer of hope, but his face offered her nothing. His eyes were harsh circles that had been filled with years of innocent death. The spilt blood lined them with sorrow and hatred. He emulated the image of evil.
He looked at her fragile frame, she was just a child, but he had a duty to his new leader, his country. She had fought well, he knew, but he would win, he always won. People like her always lost in the end.
She knew her fate as he slowly raised his gun, still she stared innocently at his unforgiving face. He waited for a moment and again searched her eyes. He felt nothing, no regret or pity, and heartlessly he fired the gun.
The bullet penetrated her skin, it was hot and hard. The impact pushed her backwards and pain seared through her body, but no sound left her mouth. Slowly she fell, as if God had put her small fragile body in slow motion. He watched her fall, and before she had even hit the ground he had vanished. Her head hit the ground hard, the ringing in her ears slowly dying away, until she was unable to hear anything. She closed her eyes and allowed time to pass, until finally the last breath left her body, and her small frame looked peaceful. When she opened her eyes in a distant place she saw the most beautiful sight before her, and she smiled. The small innocent smile of a child.
****************
Innocence
Quietly she crept, weaving with care. Making no noise, she stopped and lent against the cold concrete surface of the wall. Pressing her back hard against the smooth surface, she listened. She awaited the sounds of their chaos. Tentatively she peered around the corner, searching for safety in her black blanket of darkness. The darkness engulfed her as she slowly crept forward searching for safety, for her next hiding place. Moving faster she weaved her way toward the dark desolate forest. Searching.Innocence
Panic overcame her, when the first gunshots emerged from the silence. They were here. She began to shake, and the putrid scent of fear filled the air around her. In silence she stumbled forward, searching for a new hiding place. Frantically she pulled herself behind a small bush. Her sharp breaths piercing the silence around her. Cautiously she glimpsed through the branches, and peered in the direction that was once her home. Amber glowed in the night sky, and the strong pungent smell of smoke and burnt flesh hit her. It repulsed her, and silently into the night she vomited. She knew she needed to move, to continue on, staying in one place would inevitably end in death. There was no need for her to lie to herself, she knew what would happen if she was caught. No one ever escaped their terror.
Moving quickly through the forest she listened, but the sounds of terror still lingered around her, reminding her of them. Her destination was days away from where she was. It would be a hard journey without food or proper rest, but she needed to get there. She had to get there. Safety waited for her there, the gift of life waited there. They would be unable to reach her, once there she would become untouchable. She kept going until she was unable to continue, until her frail body refused to push on, to be pushed by her any further. Rest was what she needed, and silently she curled her body into a small ball, pushing herself into the smallest gap between harsh, rough rocks. In minutes she was asleep and restlessly dreaming, re-living the screams that haunted her. Her mind creating images that went with the screams, her family in front of her eyes, suffering, dying.
She awoke with a start, she had heard a noise, it sounded very close. She pushed her back harder against the rocks, feeling their coarse edges digging into her soft flesh, she did not move. You could not hear her pain, nor could you see it. She sat there silently with her eyes tightly shut, and she could feel the warm liquid softly trickle down her smooth back. Moments passed, nothing happened, so she took a chance and quickly began moving again. Weaving her way throughout the forest, hiding in the shadows.
Her father was a diplomat. Her country’s new government didn’t like diplomats, they refused to acknowledge their status. He was party of an unwanted and ever shrinking minority, which the new government had slowly begun exterminating. Removing each person from society, leaving no trace of his or her existence. Each day a new family was gone, missing. No one questioned their authority, to question would be to sign your own death certificate. They would hunt her down, they would kill her just as they had her family. She was unaware of the sun slowly rising, she didn’t notice the light creeping into the forest or the shadows retreating back into the depths of the forest.
He noticed the light creeping into the forest, and like he was trained, he swiftly removed the night vision goggles from his head and watched her as she fumbled on. She wouldn’t last much longer, he knew. He had followed her tracks, and was now waiting for the opportunity to strike her down. For what seemed like hours he stalked her through the forest, she was unaware of his existence.
Now the sun was glaring down on her as she approached the raging river. The water moved swiftly and roughly. She looked into the river and heard his soft footsteps crush the earth behind her. She closed her eyes and looked up to heaven, and she offered a small prayer to her God, before slowly turning to face her awaiting fate. She looked into his eyes searching for a glimmer of hope, but his face offered her nothing. His eyes were harsh circles that had been filled with years of innocent death. The spilt blood lined them with sorrow and hatred. He emulated the image of evil.
He looked at her fragile frame, she was just a child, but he had a duty to his new leader, his country. She had fought well, he knew, but he would win, he always won. People like her always lost in the end.
She knew her fate as he slowly raised his gun, still she stared innocently at his unforgiving face. He waited for a moment and again searched her eyes. He felt nothing, no regret or pity, and heartlessly he fired the gun.
The bullet penetrated her skin, it was hot and hard. The impact pushed her backwards and pain seared through her body, but no sound left her mouth. Slowly she fell, as if God had put her small fragile body in slow motion. He watched her fall, and before she had even hit the ground he had vanished. Her head hit the ground hard, the ringing in her ears slowly dying away, until she was unable to hear anything. She closed her eyes and allowed time to pass, until finally the last breath left her body, and her small frame looked peaceful. When she opened her eyes in a distant place she saw the most beautiful sight before her, and she smiled. The small innocent smile of a child.
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