To be completely honest, I love writing, but it's become too hard. The fans, my friends, my...I can't explain it. They back me up. They're my support; a family of sorts. I was watching a movie by myself, in my apartment. Solitude. Besides performing, it was pretty much a thing that I admired. Cherishing something so simple like that meant the world to me. The big things as well, but just having something to look forward to could make my day. The movie I couldn't quite remember the title of, I wasn't paying much attention to. I was listening to one of my favorite songs on my iPod writing a poem that I would probably later post to my blog that night. It had become harder and harder to write, I dug in my heart for words that described my life, but I couldn't find the right words. Letting out a sigh, I set the pad of paper down on the short Japanese-styled table I had to furnish my apartment, which is filled with Ikea and loft furniture, and walked over to the window. I stared blankly out of it with no emotion whatsoever; the rain couldn't hurt me from inside. Chicago. The New York of Illinois. I tossed my iPod on the couch and it hit it with a small "thud", bouncing on the cushions and sitting in it's final resting place. Adjusting the many bracelets I had encasing my wrist, I went into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was starting to grow back. It was getting to be long like I had it when the band first started, extremely long. Feminine. Back when the band started...my head was starting to hurt. I remembered all that shit I was going through when we were recording Almost Here. The girls, the sex, the depression, it was making my head spin. I didn't know I had a death grip on the sink.
"Stop thinking so much," I whispered to myself. I was right, I WAS thinking too much. Maybe a shower would have done me good. I started taking off my shirt as soon as the stupid doorbell rung. More interviewers, I supposed. I released a sigh and walked back out into the living room where everything was still the same- the movie was on the main screen and the music kept replaying over and over again. The bell rung once again. "I'm coming..." I whispered loud enough so the person could hear it, and pressed my thumb down on the doorhandle. A familiar face was standing in the doorway; no, two faces. "Hey Bill!" Sisky yelled into my face. Startled, I jumped back. Butcher was standing there too, with of course a drink in his hand. I chucked slightly at that. "Hey Adam...oh, hey to you too, Butcher. Listen, I was just about to-" I started to say not realizing that my friends had invited themselves into my apartment and were sitting on my couch with a bag of something. Siska decided to be a smart-ass and slap me into shape, pulling me down onto the couch with him and Butcher sat down as well. Adam pulled out 6 pack of Pasbt Blue Ribbon and set it into my hands; he was beaming, ready to be praised like a 5 year old. I smiled akwardly and inspected the cans of alcohol put into my care. "Well? Isn't it awesome?" the bassist asked me. I nodded slightly and set them down next to me, patting them. "Yeah, it's pretty cool..." I whispered, attempting to grab my probably-broken iPod from beneath the drummer's ass, when he shoved the red plastic cup into my face.
I blinked and looked back up at Butcher. "Smell that," he said. I gave him a confused look and took a whiff of the drink and I backed up, extremely startled. "What the hell is that?!" I yelled. That was an extremely strong drink, and I didn't have a clue what it was, but it was burning my sinuses. Butcher laughed slightly at my reaction, and sipped the stuff. "That, my friend, would be hard cider and whiskey," he said putting his arm around me. "Try a sip!" he said. I looked at him strangely. "Um..." I said. Butcher smiled a toothy grin and extended his arm toward me with the drink of death. I shakily took it and took a small sip of it, choking it down. It was...very him. Butcher had a reputation for making drinks that were extremely hard, but damn was he good at it. Being only 23, I wasn't really experienced with drinking yet, unlike my friends who have been drinking forever. That is, with the exception of Sisky, who is only 20. I nodded to the drummer and took another swig of the alcohol; I could feel my stomach burning. I doubt Butcher would have fed me rat poison. Adam got up and went into my kitchen into the bottom of the sink where I kept my liquor and also whatever fit in there, like crap lyrics and such. I heard him rustling through the papers and I got up and went after him. I bent down and grabbed Adam's wrist and smiled. "How about Starbucks, instead? My treat," I said. Sisky looked a bit disappointed but he agreed and I went up the spiral stairs into my room.
I came back downstairs after about 10 minutes; no sign of my bandmates. I pulled my hoodie over my head and looked for my thick-rimmed "emo glasses" as Sisky called them. There was a piece of neatly written paper on the table- it was Sisky's writing. "Went to get peetz. We're hungry as hell. Later dude! - Sisky Business." I rolled my eyes and went over to the door and ran down the hall and saw Butcher wobbling with Sisky. "You idiot, you can't drive," I said putting a hand on Butcher's shoulder. He shook me off and I blinked. "WHO DO YOU THINK YOU'RE TALKING TO, MISTER BECKETT?" the man yelled as he turned around. My landlord. I smiled and blushed, running away and looking at my friends who were in the elevator. I sprinted into the elevator and slammed my fist on the wall. "Don't...leave...without...me!" I whispered, out of breath. Butcher was totally out of it and Sisky looked confused as well. "Don't you realize you were both drinking?" I asked, sort of angry. I really thought they were smarter than that. I'd have to drive them home, but I didn't have any gas. "Did you guys drive here?" I asked again, this time expecting an answer. "Yeah, I drove," Sisky said. I rolled my eyes. "Give me your keys, I'm driving you guys home."
After driving my drunk-ass friends home, I stole Sisky's car for a bit and drove around out of the city and sat in the car, I parked a scenic lookout and sat. And sat. And sat. And cried. I need to stop thinking so much.