A/N: Here's yet another response to pyrolyn-776's Lyric Challenge. Honestly I started one, and then I couldn't stop the inspiration I got from the other hundred or so lyrics so this is like the third? Or something like that and I've done a few more. This is another Tess introspective. I like how it turned out. It's a bit darker and mature. Just a warning (because I don't think this warranted an M but the topics are a bit more mature than just teen), there is mentions of sexual promiscuity and a bit of drug and alcohol. Anyway, vote in my poll! Enjoy! R&R! Thanks! –Mac
Disclaimer: I don't own Camp Rock.
#57: "I can't see through the haze around me, and I'd do anything to just feel better."
Oh How The Mighty Have Fallen
Look what's become of Tess Tyler.
She was the golden child. The It Girl. A household name. Every pre-teen, pop culture addicted girl and her sister had bought her debut CD. Quite a few had splurged on her second and third. She lived a life of luxury and glamour that thousands—no, millions—envied. She had everything she could ever want (well, mostly). She was on top of the world.
But oh how the mighty have fallen.
She had read the headlines, seen the tabloids. They all said the same thing: she was throwing her career away for a life of parties, drugs, sex and alcohol. She was out of control. Oh the fast track to rehab or death in the prime of life.
Tess had stopped caring. She didn't know why she should care anyway. She had systematically lost the love of her life to another woman (though she probably should have seen that one coming—while he was the love of her life, she was never the love of his), her mother (TJ was still around, but Tess had finally realized that she could never life up to her mother's standards—it should have been freeing, but had instead quite the opposite effect) and all the friends she thought cared about her (but really only wanted a shot at their own fifteen minutes of fame by proxy).
This sent Tess spiraling in the wrong direction.
That's how she had come to where she was. She was at a club she couldn't remember the name of, dancing with a guy she wasn't sure she knew. She was pretty sure she had met him before (even more sure she had slept with him before). But she couldn't remember his name (though she rarely remembered the names of the guys she had been with—she could count the number of one she did remember on one hand). That didn't stop her from taking the pill he offered her—even when she had no idea what it was. It was stupid but she was past caring.
Her vision was hazy. She smelt like sweat and alcohol and smoke. She felt numb and on fire at the same time (if that was even possible)—she couldn't explain it. She could barely stand on her own two feet and she couldn't think straight. She couldn't see through the smoke and bright shining lights. People were too close, she was too hot and she knew she should be anywhere but where she was.
She knew this was all wrong, but she had tried everything else. And she would do anything to feel better.
