Alvin's POV.

My friend, since 98. You used to be my friend. Back in 1998, the day we both were given life. On that day, we began to exist, but where are you now? I wish I could see you again, but you're so far away from me

Down the road, towards the city. Towards the only place, that would light up in this darkness that fell right over my head and my body. I don't remember if it was raining or if it was cold as hell outside, but I remember cursing about it when I left the house.

The time was stuck. I had no idea what time it was, but it felt like I had been here forever. And yesterday. And the day before yesterday. Tomorrow I would experience the same thing again. I was pretty sure about that at least.

I kept walking down to where all the fun usually happened on Friday and Saturday nights. Outside, I was all by myself, but I knew that if I went into one of the bars I usually go to, I would still be all by myself. People buying me drinks, girls screaming my name, pictures, flashes, voices. An imagination of someone who actually knows me - that reality would slowly kill.

It's funny how I've heard everything before. People always think they say what a young star wants to hear, but nothing is new. Every line is heard. Even the "you have something white on your nose" one. A girl once tried that one on me and even though she was right about what she said, I told her she must be mad.

I couldn't decide what place to enter. This street was filled with places that would screw up your brain, break down your dignity and tear apart your reality - only for you to wake up the next morning and realize it's ten times worse than last night. I never liked waking up in the mornings. It made me feel even closer to the one I was becoming and further away from the one I used to be.

Even though I had been visiting this city quite often these past days, I still felt like I needed a compass. 20 years old and I still didn't know my hometown that well. I hadn't been home for a few years, but I came home a few months ago. Never thought I would come back home, but here I was. My tour was over anyways. And I had a feeling that being back from Europe could change my views on some things. View on money, view on love. View on life. I never figured out if I was right or not, because in the end I just needed an excuse to get away once again.

But after being home for a few months, I did realize one thing. The burning feeling inside of me never stopped; not on stage, not in Europe, not here in this old town. It kept burning, soaring, choking. I was aware of it, but whether it was killing me or keeping me alive? Again, I never got an answer.

After carefully observing and watching through the windows in the bar that could lead me to a night of better or worse times, I decided to walk away. Unlike last night and the other last nights, it finally felt like I made one right decision. I think I had visited every place that had screwed up my brain, broken down my dignity and torn apart my reality. Not only these last months being back, but also on tour. Perhaps even before that.

As I changed my path away from the bar with five stars, I realized that this town was more broken that it was when I lived here. This could be a movie. The kid escapes from his old life, gets a contract and lives the glamorous life of fame. I lived that movie. Except that my movie had taken a turn and suddenly I ended up back in my hometown. After fuck-ups and break-ups. Also a whole lot of make-ups but those were followed by more fuck-ups.

Felt like this whole town was burning. Flames that destroyed memories of a happy childhood as if the rain of cinder were about to hit me and my frames would burn. When I was on tour, I wanted to find the truth. I thought that when I finally would come back after years of exploring, I would have found it. After traveling the world, meeting people from everywhere. Giving people what they wanted from me. Maybe all that would give me an answer of what I was actually giving people - me or what I thought was me?

Although I had spent surprisingly long time searching, I was still trying to not fall down. My career was the best thing that ever happened to me. I went from part-time to half-time, from full-time to all the time. And now, I'm always going to be what I worked for. It's madness. I had worked for a job title and that had turned out great - I was still standing. I was safe. But the answer I had been looking for, for the longest? Still couldn't find it. That burning feeling? Apparently, you can feel emptiness.

The lights that came from the centrum of the city were tempting to visit, but I knew that these endless nights had to come to an end. It felt like another challenge to walk home again, but what other choice did I have? Nobody was around me so I basically had the power to do whatever I wanted to do. The feeling of physically loneliness completed my inner loner and this was the first time I felt somewhat comfortable. Of course I felt comfortable when I was performing, but everything felt better years ago. Even on stage. Some things had changed. I think I had changed.

When I was on stage, an image of the superficial me was the one who made me famous. That was the easy part. After all, you just have to be there, on stage, and the people who make you famous will eventually do the rest of the job. Suddenly and without blinking, you stand with an age long contract, a million people screaming your name and streaming your products non-stop. You stand with a bank account with no limits, sold-out concerts, seven interviews a day and opportunities for joining commercials, TV-shows, radios and adds on every social media that has ever existed. It's everything that everyone could ever dream about. Right?

I found out years ago that nothing was ever planned. Things just happened, life wasn't scheduled. Ironic, right? If it one day begins to rain with gold, that's what I'll shower in. I'll get affected, sure, but at least I've always taken the rough with the smooth.

While I stood there, imagining the sky pouring gold at me, I remembered how it actually rained with rage over me. Well, that's what my hostile rhymes say. I made my choice and followed the road home again. Dave had probably gone to bed, the same with Simon. My brother was also visiting our old home, but we were in a lot different places. He was studying the art of his great mind while I was drowning myself in this life I chose - the life I probably was destined to. 'Cause it was easy and I was never given the gift of using my brain reasonably.

So if your only goal in life is to become famous, here's some advice. Forget your name, forget where you're from. Forget your friends and forget the ones who are above you. Forget your family, the ones who ever stood by your side. Forget the ones who cared for you. They won't need it for your career. Neither will you.

As I followed these rules to the finest years back, I got to where I was today. At the top, at my absolutely best. Sort of. I was young, so I still had time to figure out if I was going to regret anything after all. Would I go back if I had the chance? I still don't know. But if I could, I would go back to my childhood. The younger version of the young me. My friend, since 98.

A person without one doubt about life, without any stupidity. Only the one that comes with childhood, but that one can be forgiven. Even though I had followed my own rules, the loss of that person was unbearable. I missed it so badly. That person. You used to be my friend, back in 1998. But where are you now?

Obviously, my body knew the way home much better than my mind did and suddenly I found myself standing in the driveway. It's funny how I keep calling this old house my "home" since I wanted to forget about it so badly. I guess my mind might be better than me at everything.

I went inside and immediately felt the opposite of the cold outside. I carefully slammed the door, so I wouldn't wake up the whole household. I still had no clue about time or date, but I was pretty sure it was after midnight. As I turned around, I saw Simon walk down the stairs. His eyes didn't look surprised when he saw me, yet he looked like he needed to sleep just as bad as I needed to.

"You're home," he stated. I gave him a nod as I hung up my coat. "No big night tonight?"

I shrugged. "Nah. I'm tired."

"That was a matter of time." Simon studied me and I was pretty sure he read me as an open book. I'm also pretty sure he's the only one who knows about my existential considerations, only because he wants to read me as a book and knows how to as the only one. We once talked about this, quite often actually, but that was before I moved away. He insisted on visiting me once I escaped, but I rejected his idea. After all, I still had some searching to do.

I looked at my brother, who quietly accepted my situation. He had never liked the free drinks, the drugs nor the girls who would stand in line just for you to wink at them. I didn't know if I liked it either, but the party took over and something dragged me into it.

"So," I said. "I should probably get going soon anyways. I mean, I don't want to come home to a house full of dust and rotten plants."

Simon went down other step at the stairs. "When?" he asked.

"Tomorrow," I said. "I'll find a plane."

Already?" he casually asked.

I shrugged again. "It's already been two months."

"Yeah, but it's not like you're busy at the moment, right?"

"No, that's true, but I do have that acoustic performance next month and I've been thinking about traveling for a week or two, so ..."

"Really?" Simon asked. "Where?"

"I don't know, Thailand sounds kind of cool, right? I mean who doesn't wan-"

"Alvin," Simon cut me off. He went down the last step and faced me. "I know you like keeping yourself busy. But maybe everything is right in front you. Back here, at home. Just stay for a couple days more, okay?" He gave me an unsure smile, pinched my shoulder and walked up the stairs again. "And don't leave without telling me."

I watched him walk up the stairs and waited for his door to close. After a couple of minutes, I went up to my old room. I still had posters from the artists I used to listen to when I was about 15 years old. Rascal Flats, Green Day, John Legend. I remember how I wanted to be like them when I grew up. Now, five years later, I have more listeners than them and I still listen to them with the memories of 15-years old me. I guess I still remember some parts of that person, but it's like he's a complete stranger.

After a few month here, I never unpacked my suitcases. A bunch of clothes lay on the floor and as I zipped my suitcase, I decided to keep it there. Before I rolled out with my bags I caught my own reflection in the mirror. I looked like a mess. My skin was pale, eyes red and my hair was greasy. I still didn't know if it was raining outside or if I forgot to wash it, but I'd had better hair days.

Successfully, I managed to get downstairs without making any loud noises. I opened the door again and watched the sight. It was actually raining. I went out there and I felt the cold raindrops hitting my face like the shower I needed. The rain making my hair humid and my skin cold. I had never felt such a thing. It was like I'd been on a break of feeling and now it all hit me.

I stopped fascinating about the rain and looked out on the road again. This time, I probably wouldn't wait years until coming home again. But I needed to get going. Maybe this old town was sleeping, but I wasn't.

I don't think the old me would've been sleeping now anyways. That's all I remember about you. I wish I could see you again, but you're so far away from me.