Often it takes other people to help you realize that you've made mistakes.
I'm not myself anymore. I've given up hope that I will leave this place anytime soon. It's more than terrifying when you realize that your spirit's been broken. And it didn't take a lot more than a few video clips from my past. I thought I was stronger than that. But I've overestimated my stamina in the past more than once so maybe I shouldn't be so surprised.
Somebody wants to tell me something. The question is who? And also, what? I know I've made mistakes but isn't this what life is about? How are you supposed to know what's "the right thing" to do? I've always just followed my instincts. I know I'm not without fault.
I'm very well aware of that.
"What do you want from me?" I asked the TV.
I should probably prepare myself for an enternity in this room. Being confronted with missed opportunities, wrong decisions... obviously my life's full of them.
"Why don't you show me some of the good stuff?" I know there must be some.
Well, I guess meeting Laura was a golden moment. But it only reminds me of the fact that I lost her. Coming to think of it, all the good things in my life eventually turned sour. Having fun with EsmÃ© - feeling empty and guilty. My band - hurting Caren. Having my own record label and clothing line - stress, hardly any form of private life, accusations of "selling out" from complete strangers as well as close friends.
Laura - the car accident.
Is it my desire to put the blame on something else, somebody other than me? If I had to pinpoint the moment when life's started getting the best of me it would be the day Laura passed away. What kind of age to die is 17? I am a fool because even after that day I was still expecting some fairness in life. It's foolish when you've seen an angel like Laura first being robbed off her ability to walk, ride, take a shower like a normal person, even dress on her own, simple things... elementary things. And then seeing her torn away from all the little things she had left. Her work at the animal shelter, she never gave it up. Her friends. Me.
I missed her more than anyone will ever know. Did I miss her so much because she took the biggest part of me with her when she left? Or solely for her personality? It's hard to tell. I can't differentiate.
Even though I never talked to anyone about this I believe it was for the best that her mother died in the car with her. The woman's been through so much with her daughter, losing her would have given her the rest.
I was informed that both of them must have died immediately, right upon impact with the other vehicle. I was informed that chances were they didn't feel any pain. I was informed of the date of the funeral and I was informed of her father, who she barely had any memory of, selling the house in which she used to live.
But nobody informed me of how I was supposed to go on. My parents were more than understanding. Mom wanted to have me talk about things. But there was nothing to talk about. She didn't pressure me but every now and then I had to remind her of the fact that I couldn't and wouldn't talk this through. Dad's whole demeanor expressed so much sympathy and love that he didn't even have to say a word. It's probably a man thing.
Ha. Laura would have slapped me for thinking that. "Pete, sometimes you're such a sexist." Personally, I didn't know what that had to do with sexism. But she had a head of her own, probably sometimes not really getting the true essence of feminism; who does, anways?
A young man, walking through the aisles of a small storeroom. He spies a portable radio standing on top of one of the cardboard boxes and turns it on.
"...magazines from overseas, won't teach you how to feel
they trade in their hearts for indie rock charts to tell them what is real..."
Several times he stops in front of one of the many metal hat stands that hold one or two itmes of clothing. His eyes examine the hoodies, t-shirts, belts and the various other accessoires.
"... she's acting the role and dressing the part, pretending to be bored
the truth about conformity, is it bites without a sting
trends come and go, but when your alone it doesn't mean a thing..."
A woman hurries towards him, a clipboard in under her arm, a pen in her hand.
"Mr. Stump, if you-"
"Patrick's fine. Really." He crosses his arms in front of his chest, his eyes shifting between her face and the clipboard she's holding out to him.
"Sure... If you'd just sign this, Patrick. Then we could ship off the newest collection."
He grabs the pen out of her hand, quickly scans the form and scribbles his name on the bottom of the paper.
She gives him a small smile, "Thank you. Sorry for bothering."
"It's fine really. This is all very new to me but from what I could gather during the last few days you're the heart and soul of this company, Jean. Thank you very much."
She nods and starts to walk away.
She turns around, "Yes?"
"I've been wondering... isn't this stuff a bit expensive? All of it... I mean it's mostly teenagers who buy it, right?"
"I, ah, I wouldn't... I don't...," she stutters.
He pulls a funny face, "Of course... my bad." He smiles understandingly.
"Well, we should really get the new stuff out so..."
"Yes, sure. I'll see you later."
"...where is the line? where is the line?
between your fashion and your mind..."
Shortly after the woman's left his cell phone rings.
"Hey, Andy," he answers.
"Yes, I talked to Joe, too... definitely... I totally agree with you, a break would be the best right now. There's no sense in... Yeah, Joe told me they posted that on the website... Same to you, man. Take care. We'll stay in touch...What's that? Yes, I'm fine. It's still a bit overwhelming though... I know. Thanks, Andy...Later."
"Here today but forgotten tomorrow." We toured with them once. Cool guys.
I think this is the first time that music's worked against me.
I got the message.
I wonder if he's gonna keep /Clandestine/. Or if he's gonna sell it. I've noticed on more than one occasion that he never liked the whole thing. He wouldn't accuse me of anything though. Patrick's too... timid, comes to mind. He's timid but that's not why he never actually expressed his dislike regarding the company.
Loyal. That's it. Sometimes he's a lot like a dog.
God, I miss him.
All of them. Everyone.
_ _ _ _ _
The lyrics in this chapter are from Billy Talent's "Where is the Line".
Was it too much? I really don't know, I just love the song. :I