Disclaimer of ownage; Rob Thomas - everything. Me - Just the laptop and this really cool nightmare before christmas hoody.
(By the way the word 'gutterati' probably isn't a real word, but it came from a friend of mine who used to call himself and his group of friends the gutterati, because of all the bad and dirty things they did yet people still seemed to love them. So its a play on the words Glitterati and gutter :D enjoy)
Gutterati
It's that time of year again. You're drunk and disorderly. Trying to drown your sorrows, that's all you do now. But you're sure that you're not the only one, there has to be others in exactly the same position. Others have to still be dwelling in the past, you can't be the only one. You tell yourself this over and over again, hoping it'll ease the pain. It doesn't.
Numb and drunk, you spot your target. She's pretty, blonde, petite, a glistening smile with glittering eyes. You feign interest in what she says, all the time wondering how easy it'll be. She carries on talking, not noticing the darkness in your eyes.
It doesn't take long before she leaves the bar with you, her naivety working to your advantage. Taking her back to a pre-booked hotel room, you do the deed. It's cold, emotionless and lacks enthusiasm on your part, but she deserved an Oscar for her performance. She played the part with perfection. A role she didn't even know she was playing.
Once the deed is done, she falls asleep next to you. You stare at her, her blonde hair caped in alcohol and sweat, it sticks to her face, back and neck. She looks just like her, but she's not. She's nowhere near. Just another faceless, pretty, blonde to add to the list. It's been five years, the list is getting long now.
She begins to stir, looking up at you with stars in her eyes. You did that to her. You gave her false hope. She doesn't even realise. She was so innocent, so naive. You've destroyed that now. Just like the many before her. Why did you have to put stars in her eyes?
She looking up at you like you're the glitterati, like you're her saviour from the darkness of the world. You're far from it. You look at her with what you hope it pity, before climbing out of bed.
'Where are you going?'
She calls after you, you just get dressed, ignoring her pleas for an explanation. Taking some notes out of your wallet, you throw them at her.
'Don't put me on a pedestal. I'm in the gutter just like you. I'm not the glitterati, I'm not your saviour. I'm not your shining star. I'm the gutterati! I'm dirt just like you! I suggest the tackiest, most sordid tabloid if you want to make the most money.'
You hear your tone, it's cold and callous. You leave, you can hear her sobs behind you as you close the door. You broke her, you broke another one. But you don't care. You're hearts not pounding for her loss, it's pounding for your loss. Your humanity is failing you, it's fading bit by bit.
Soon after you find yourself somewhere familiar. You haven't been here in years. Too many painful memories. Too many missed opportunities.
It's late, but that doesn't bother you. You know the owner of the house will be awake. Knocking forcefully on the door. You wait as a figure approaches. You half wish, half hope it's her. But you know that it can't be.
She doesn't live here anymore. She hasn't been here for years.
The door swings open. The familiar face greets you.
'Logan...'
His voice is filled with fatherly care and concern at your appearance. You look at him. His eyes are red and puffy, he smells of booze. It's that time of year again.
'I did it again Keith...'
As you speak, Keith's arms open and you fall into them, finally letting your cries out. Your tears soaking through his shirt. Sobbing violently.
'I did it again, it's all my fault. She's gone and it's all my fault.'
You can't believe he's still holding you, trying to calm you down. His little girl is gone because of you.
'Logan, Logan, listen to me. It's not your fault. You are not to blame. Veronica's death was not your fault. It was a terrible accident. She would not want you think like that. She loved you with all her heart, body and soul, whether she admitted it or not, I know she did.'