Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > I'm Just A Ghost, Haunting My Own Life

Chapter 8

by areyounormal 4 reviews

Patrick discovers who else he needs to forgive and the meaning of PPP...

Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: G - Genres: Angst,Drama - Published: 2009-09-16 - Updated: 2009-09-17 - 1411 words - Complete

“Why won’t you let me help him?” I snapped angrily. I was back in Los Angeles, this time in the studio. “He’s so upset and hasn’t slept for days. He’s going to make himself ill!”
“Like you, you mean?” Alice asked taking a seat on Joe’s amp.
“What do… what?” All my anger slipped away as I felt another lesson coming on.
“Well, the recording’s pretty much finished,” she shrugged. “A few overdubs here and there, perhaps some more backing vocals and then final mixing. You’re pleased with it aren’t you?”
“Yeah, it’s turned out exactly as I wanted,” I admitted with a smile.
“And yet,” she leaned back and stared up at me as I fingered the microphone stand. “You’re not happy, are you?”
“I am,” I insisted. “I told you, it’s exactly what I wanted.”
“Pete wasn’t the only one in a bad mood was he?”

My shoulders sagged and I looked away with a sigh.

“I told you, Patrick, I know everything about you.”

Flopping down into Andy’s drum seat, I tapped out a quiet rhythm with my fingers on the rim of his snare.

“No, he wasn’t.”
“Why were you unhappy?” she asked me.
“You know all about me, you tell me,” I grumbled, not exactly angrily, but I knew I sounded irritable.
“Patrick, meet me half way,” she replied kindly, making me feel all the more wretched for snapping at her.
“It’s stupid,” I muttered, feeling foolish.
“What is?” she pressed

I sighed and stopped tapping on the snare drum. My feet had found their way almost automatically to the pedals and I was mentally restraining my right foot from slamming the bass drum.

“I’d never really been happy with Cork Tree,” I admitted. “Bits of it, yeah, but not enough to be satisfied. I thought Infinity had gone pretty well and I was really happy with that one. I’d enjoyed making it and, yeah, I was happy."
“But Folie was perfect?”
I gave a short laugh. “Well, you might get arguments about that, but it was everything I’d wanted it to be.”
“And?” she prompted.
“And I panicked,” I admitted with a light shrug. “What was left to do? I’d done what I wanted. All I could think of is that next time, I’d have to top that album with something even better and… well, if I’m honest, I don’t know that I have it in me.”
“The next album?” she asked with a knowing smile.
“Yeah,” I frowned as I stared trying to decipher her expression. “Am I missing something?”
“Oh, yes, my dear Patrick. You’re missing something astonishingly obvious.” She got to her feet and walked over the few feet to where I was sitting. Taking my hand, she pulled me gently from the seat. “Come on, you need to forgive someone else.”
“Wait! What am I supposed to be missing?” I tried to pull away, not wanting to change the subject so rapidly. Whoever it was I needed to forgive, they wouldn’t even know I was there!
“I’m hoping it’ll become apparent when you’ve forgiven him.”

I sighed heavily; this whole business had never stopped confusing, frustrating and upsetting me. And now, here I was again about to be confronted by someone who supposedly needed my forgiveness. Would they even be aware? Would it give me the enlightenment Alice expected? I doubted it.

“Have a little faith, Patrick,” she smiled back at me as she led me to the door of the studio. “If you learn nothing else, learn that.”

I was grateful to her that the spinning through blackness episodes had been replaced by simple transitions. I walked through the studio door and found myself in Pete’s bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror. I exhaled noisily as I realised what this was all about.

“You want me to forgive myself?” I asked staring at her reflection. I saw her nod and my head dropped forward as I leaned on the sink.
“I left this until last,” she explained. “Because this is something you find harder than anything else.”
“This is last?” I spun around to face her. “Then what?”
“Well, it depends on how you deal with this.”
“What have I got to forgive myself for?” I asked impatiently. Not impatient in a bad angry way, but in a ‘please tell me what I need to do, so I can return to my body and get back to living’ kind of way.

She chuckled. Yes, I’d actually thought that, so she heard it. It was embarrassing.

“Come on, Patrick!” she shook her head sadly.
“You said you’d help me!” I replied growing increasingly nervous; I couldn’t get this wrong.
“All right! But I can only suggest a method of identifying what you need to do. You have to actually do it.”
“Okay,” I nodded.

And then she did the strangest thing I’d ever seen. Slowly, she started to change. Her hair lightened, and shortened, her clothes changed, she aged, she got taller and wider… oh, I see what’s happening here. She looked like me, not a female version, just me. It was… unnerving.

“Tell me,” she said in my voice. “Tell me everything you’d want someone else to tell you, right now. Be whoever you need to be, but just let it out.”

It was daunting and weird and a little bit freaky.

“So what is it?” she asked me, or I asked me – creepy! “What’s my problem? Don’t you know? Have you come this far only to dry up?”
“You’re a perfectionist!” I snapped back. “And it’s damned annoying! Everything takes so much longer because you know what you want and you have to have it. You have to keep picking away until you get it just right.”
“How is that a bad thing? Who cares anyway?”
“I care!” I jabbed a finger into my own chest. “I have so many plans and ideas, but it’s really hard to realise them.”
“Because I can’t get them out of my head onto paper, or guitar or the mixing desk or wherever the hell they need to be!”
“Because I need to learn more about producing!” I snapped angrily at the bullying tone I was basically using on myself. “I’m pretty good, but I have so much more to learn.”

And there it was. This was my ‘what next’. Already, she was smiling at me and returning to her own appearance. Yes, I was pleased with Folie. It was exactly how I wanted this one to turn out, how I’d heard it in my head. But that didn’t exclude the possibility of improving further, and now it didn’t seem quite so unreasonable that I could do it. The more I thought about it, the more embarrassed I was at the belief that my creativity was at an end and I could achieve no more. It’s no defence, but I was often like this to some degree. At the end of a tour or a recording session, I would frequently be moody and uncharacteristically depressed.

“Don’t worry,” she chuckled. “You just had a really bad case of Post-Project-Patrick.”
“I… what now? Post-Project-Patrick?” I wasn’t sure I was happy about the phrase, but I recognised the initials!
“You said yourself they should know what you’re like after a project,” she grinned. “Well now you know they do and they love you for it. You have to accept it too.”
I nodded. “But not let it rule me?”

Her grin broadened at my understanding.

“You mentioned the next album before. I knew you couldn’t really be thinking of giving up, not deep down.”

I nodded with a smile that continued to grow the more I thought about her words. It was very possibly something I’d known all along, myself.

“I was right to have a good feeling about you.” She laughed lightly as the whole mood in the small bathroom seemed to lift. “Ready to go back?”

Man! Was I ever! Yet, somehow, I didn’t think it was going to be that simple. By way of acknowledgement of the thought, Alice nodded grimly. This was going to be a bumpy ride.
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