FicWad

So it's still the same plot. Gerard grows anxious after discovering the true obsession and meaning behind 'ferard'. I know there have been many already written like this and i feel like a hypocrite writing one up but what the hell.

---------------------------


Nothing More, Nothing Less

Where creativity and suspense used to thrive, cliché’s and predictability now slowly but surely take over as all pure imagination slips away. Started out as something beautiful, meaningful and occasionally brought tears to the brinks of your eyes. Maybe even sent a wave of involuntary tingles through your finger tips.

But that was before. Now it’s like a whole other evolution. Only this one didn’t improve. They all went from better to worse. They all have the same plot, or rather no plot at all. The intro, the body, and soppy conclusion all master the same boring storyline. If it’s the desperate, eating spoonfuls of ice cream straight from the carton, crying like pre mature teenage girl atmosphere that you’re into, then perhaps the words will capture your attention. It’s just nice every once in a while to be able to look at your screen without telling the overly paid B-rated actor not to enter the dim lighted basement because we all know what awaits. Just as we all know what happens when two specific secret devotees are left alone with three unsaid words.

Honestly though, credit needs to be given to these internet authors. Writing a proper fantasy is a lot more difficult than Disney movies demonstrate. Of course after time they all get worn out and unoriginal. Why else would it take five of us, who are supposedly quite experienced now, so long to write at bare minimum a sum of fourteen songs. Critiquing is by far one of the last things I should be doing.

Sure I allowed my eyes to scan over the words displayed on the monitor, hell it happened on more than one occasion. Because frankly, a lot of them were enticing. But it’s not something I should be critiquing. Surely these weren’t really meant for any of us to read, it’s too awkward. And I still hold true to my word, google-ing my name is not something I do on the daily agenda. An honest mistake is all it was. One mistake I inwardly regret for it has not only become the base of my current problem but also the main thing that bubbles its way into my mind. Yes, none of it is actually real but it affects me nonetheless like the newest pop sensation playing repeatedly on the radio from all the requests.

The name has been screamed into our faces and etched unto banners yet it never really crossed my mind how deep of a meaning it holds. Definitely not the shallow stage tactic we intended. So the link was clicked on and that same damn word stumbled bluntly across the screen with a full story to follow. The rest is, as said, history.


Late night never made a real difference on the bus. We were all too involved in our own diminutive worlds at the first sign of free time to notice anything else. Half the time we all were either buried away in our bunks, concealed by sleep. Tonight was different. The tour had left us in London leaving majority filled with anticipation and restlessness. So besides the sleeping form of Frank in his bunk, the bus was desolate. Well into my third cup of coffee, the silence had settled in. Over time my fondness for silence had grown after playing so many deafening concerts. The only downfall was being able to clearly hear all the train wreck thoughts whisking their way around my head. Too much of it and insanity is inevitable. Sleep is hard to get in contact with these days but I figured a freshly brewed pot of caffeine would make up for the disturbance I was bound to create. It was only a matter of time before my body would undo the binds and spill my thoughts. Might as well keep up with all the clichés and get it over with while everyone else steals tonight’s slumber.