Categories > Celebrities > 30 Seconds to Mars > Apocalyptic And Insane
*Trigger warning* This is a pretty sad scene for Jared, and it's not very happy, so I wouldn't read it if you're in a bad mood.
1Ambiance
AUTHORS NOTE: I don't own any member of 30 Seconds To Mars (although I wish I did) and none of this is real. I know nothing about their personal lives, and this is all a work of fiction.
Jared decided to go and sit in the recording studio, the only place he felt truly safe, after having his moment of insanity in the bedroom. It was three o’clock in the morning and it was getting light outside, but he didn’t want to sleep. Sleep was the last of his worries. What the fuck had happened to him? Maybe that was what his doctor was talking about; the sleep deprivation was driving him crazy. He slammed the door shut then locked it, and closed the thick blind on the glass screen so that no one could see him. He grabbed his pen and a notebook, where he wrote his songs, and started to scribble words onto the paper. Maybe this song would make the album; maybe he’d actually like it when it was finished. He was a huge perfectionist, every song he wrote had to be flawless, or he would be dissatisfied until the day he breathed his last breath.
My life – Insane,
Nothing I would change,
He lacked inspiration for the next part of the song, nothing he wrote seemed right, or seemed to sound like an epic chorus. His mind had gone totally blank and he couldn’t bring himself to write the next line. What was wrong? He always had the ideas, as he was the main songwriter for the band and had been since they formed the band, but that morning was an exception. Maybe he needed to go back to sleep, and wake up later, refreshed and ready to write.
“There is no way I’m going back up there.”
He was still so tired, despite getting the best night’s sleep he had gotten in a long time. The song would have to wait until Shannon and Tomo had woken up so they could give him a little bit of enthusiasm. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the spinning office chair, and went to sleep again.
Slowly, he woke up, and then looked at the alarm clock next to him. It was 5:17am. It was still too early and only two hours had passed. He had fallen asleep at his desk in the studio, his head resting on his Mac keyboard. He had managed to type something random into the search bar, and search it on the internet. His eyes felt like they were cemented together, and he would never be able to open them properly again. He groaned, and started to look around. Something felt different. It was the same old studio, the one he had been sitting in for months on end, so what had changed? There was a new photograph on the wall, framed in the corner, but he had already seen it. A sharp pain shot through his arms, like he had been scalded with boiling water, so he looked at the sleeves of his sweatshirt.
“Oh God. No…”
The sleeves that were generally grey had been tainted with scarlet red spots. Blood. He quickly rolled them up so that they were all the way up his arms, to reveal bleeding slashes. This scared him, so he looked away as quickly as he could. He was close to hyperventilating, so he needed to steady his breath and calm down. He didn’t remember cutting himself, or wanting to cut himself. He hadn’t done such a thing since Shannon helped him to stop years ago, so why had this happened to him?
“This is not good. This is really really not good!”
After sprinting to the kitchen, he opened the medicine cupboard, where the first aid kit was kept, and grabbed some bandages. He ran tap water over his arms; to clean them and get rid of any dirt. He would also need to stop the bleeding, so he applied pressure to the cuts on each arm. They stung like a bitch, and it was really hard to ignore the pain. He wrapped bandages around both arms, quickly and efficiently, and then sat at the kitchen table. What would Shannon say when he found out? He would definitely have a fit, then be in a really bad mood with Jared for days, then beg him to get help. A tear leaked from his eye, then another, which led to him sobbing like a child, or even worse, a girl.
Pull yourself together, you’re better than this.
Jared decided to go and sit in the recording studio, the only place he felt truly safe, after having his moment of insanity in the bedroom. It was three o’clock in the morning and it was getting light outside, but he didn’t want to sleep. Sleep was the last of his worries. What the fuck had happened to him? Maybe that was what his doctor was talking about; the sleep deprivation was driving him crazy. He slammed the door shut then locked it, and closed the thick blind on the glass screen so that no one could see him. He grabbed his pen and a notebook, where he wrote his songs, and started to scribble words onto the paper. Maybe this song would make the album; maybe he’d actually like it when it was finished. He was a huge perfectionist, every song he wrote had to be flawless, or he would be dissatisfied until the day he breathed his last breath.
My life – Insane,
Nothing I would change,
He lacked inspiration for the next part of the song, nothing he wrote seemed right, or seemed to sound like an epic chorus. His mind had gone totally blank and he couldn’t bring himself to write the next line. What was wrong? He always had the ideas, as he was the main songwriter for the band and had been since they formed the band, but that morning was an exception. Maybe he needed to go back to sleep, and wake up later, refreshed and ready to write.
“There is no way I’m going back up there.”
He was still so tired, despite getting the best night’s sleep he had gotten in a long time. The song would have to wait until Shannon and Tomo had woken up so they could give him a little bit of enthusiasm. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the spinning office chair, and went to sleep again.
Slowly, he woke up, and then looked at the alarm clock next to him. It was 5:17am. It was still too early and only two hours had passed. He had fallen asleep at his desk in the studio, his head resting on his Mac keyboard. He had managed to type something random into the search bar, and search it on the internet. His eyes felt like they were cemented together, and he would never be able to open them properly again. He groaned, and started to look around. Something felt different. It was the same old studio, the one he had been sitting in for months on end, so what had changed? There was a new photograph on the wall, framed in the corner, but he had already seen it. A sharp pain shot through his arms, like he had been scalded with boiling water, so he looked at the sleeves of his sweatshirt.
“Oh God. No…”
The sleeves that were generally grey had been tainted with scarlet red spots. Blood. He quickly rolled them up so that they were all the way up his arms, to reveal bleeding slashes. This scared him, so he looked away as quickly as he could. He was close to hyperventilating, so he needed to steady his breath and calm down. He didn’t remember cutting himself, or wanting to cut himself. He hadn’t done such a thing since Shannon helped him to stop years ago, so why had this happened to him?
“This is not good. This is really really not good!”
After sprinting to the kitchen, he opened the medicine cupboard, where the first aid kit was kept, and grabbed some bandages. He ran tap water over his arms; to clean them and get rid of any dirt. He would also need to stop the bleeding, so he applied pressure to the cuts on each arm. They stung like a bitch, and it was really hard to ignore the pain. He wrapped bandages around both arms, quickly and efficiently, and then sat at the kitchen table. What would Shannon say when he found out? He would definitely have a fit, then be in a really bad mood with Jared for days, then beg him to get help. A tear leaked from his eye, then another, which led to him sobbing like a child, or even worse, a girl.
Pull yourself together, you’re better than this.
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