Hallelujah
But Does Anyone Notice
Rob's POV
The rain thundered down on the rooftop of the apartment, it was driving me insane. I strode across the room and picked up my guitar. I went and sat on my bed, which was in the middle of my very messy room. I was such a slob; I was surprised that anyone was able to live with me. Beer cans, dirty clothes, magazines, shoes and random pizza boxes cluttered my room. It was sort of ironic how my messy room reminded me of my life; disorganised and unruly.
I plucked at the strings, checking they were in tune. I began to play; it was a simple and random tune. I hummed along to myself, trying to pick at random words to form a song in my head. Useless. I was loosing my touch. I had no inspiration anymore. Where could I even get inspiration from? Beer? Sex? Cigarettes? Hardly. Nobody wanted to hear about the shit tales of my life, it was hopeless. I was hopeless. I slung my guitar across the room in frustration. I had to get out of here! I flipped open my phone. It was twenty to four. Anna would be finishing college soon and I’d go out with her. She was always up for a laugh.
Anna Kendrick was my best friend; I suppose you could call us that. She was the only one who truly cared about me these days. My parents said that they weren’t disappointed in me, but I could tell they were. They thought that stupid Potter film would help me “go places”. It didn’t. And now they pretended like they didn’t care I was a failure but I knew better. My sisters were successful and phoned me on occasion. I preferred not to speak to them much, I envied them and it annoyed me when they bragged about how good their lives were. And then they’d start with the lecture on how all this drinking isn’t good for me. I was alone and depressed, what did they expect? I usually hung up on them when they started that. My other friends had gone off with their own lives, they had jobs. I spoke to them online from time to time but they were always too busy to come for a drink. The people I hung around with now were just social hunters, I never spoke to them unless I wanted to go out and get smashed. Which I did quite often. I had no real commitment to them; I didn’t know them at all. Most of the time I couldn’t get their names right, most of the time I didn’t care. Anna was really the only person in the world who checked on me regularly, but she, too, had her own life. She was a bright girl, an actress on the side. She’d decided to go to college so that she had a back up plan. Like I said, smart girl. She was cute too, we got on really well, but sometimes I could see her pitying me and it pissed me off. I was a bad influence on the girl. I was the one who’d introduced her to drinking and smoking and sex. I’d taken her virginity, much to my embarrassment and we slept together whenever we were trashed. There wasn’t any commitment between us, not in that way. She’d become a "social rebel" when she was with me. It made me laugh. She was so innocent when I met her; I felt an irrational need to protect her like she was my little sister. And then I went and fucked her! So I messed that one up big time. She’d given up on the whole cute thing and she’d grown into a hot woman over the past two years. Guys stared at her and she loved it. I was a bad influence but I was never sorry. I was much too selfish to give up her company. If I did I’d be all alone and I didn’t want that.
It was Friday. My usual routine consisted of me showering; texting Anna, then we’d go bar hopping around London, after it was safe to say we were legless we’d stumble into my flat, have sex and then I’d wake up and she was gone, I’d always have a text from Anna saying ‘Last night was fun! See you next week baby! A. xxx’. And that was it.
It was a sad life, but I was content because I wasn’t going to get anything better. As long as I was eating, drinking, having sex and repeating that same, sad, pathetic pattern I was content. I wasn’t happy but I was content.
The rain thundered down on the rooftop of the apartment, it was driving me insane. I strode across the room and picked up my guitar. I went and sat on my bed, which was in the middle of my very messy room. I was such a slob; I was surprised that anyone was able to live with me. Beer cans, dirty clothes, magazines, shoes and random pizza boxes cluttered my room. It was sort of ironic how my messy room reminded me of my life; disorganised and unruly.
I plucked at the strings, checking they were in tune. I began to play; it was a simple and random tune. I hummed along to myself, trying to pick at random words to form a song in my head. Useless. I was loosing my touch. I had no inspiration anymore. Where could I even get inspiration from? Beer? Sex? Cigarettes? Hardly. Nobody wanted to hear about the shit tales of my life, it was hopeless. I was hopeless. I slung my guitar across the room in frustration. I had to get out of here! I flipped open my phone. It was twenty to four. Anna would be finishing college soon and I’d go out with her. She was always up for a laugh.
Anna Kendrick was my best friend; I suppose you could call us that. She was the only one who truly cared about me these days. My parents said that they weren’t disappointed in me, but I could tell they were. They thought that stupid Potter film would help me “go places”. It didn’t. And now they pretended like they didn’t care I was a failure but I knew better. My sisters were successful and phoned me on occasion. I preferred not to speak to them much, I envied them and it annoyed me when they bragged about how good their lives were. And then they’d start with the lecture on how all this drinking isn’t good for me. I was alone and depressed, what did they expect? I usually hung up on them when they started that. My other friends had gone off with their own lives, they had jobs. I spoke to them online from time to time but they were always too busy to come for a drink. The people I hung around with now were just social hunters, I never spoke to them unless I wanted to go out and get smashed. Which I did quite often. I had no real commitment to them; I didn’t know them at all. Most of the time I couldn’t get their names right, most of the time I didn’t care. Anna was really the only person in the world who checked on me regularly, but she, too, had her own life. She was a bright girl, an actress on the side. She’d decided to go to college so that she had a back up plan. Like I said, smart girl. She was cute too, we got on really well, but sometimes I could see her pitying me and it pissed me off. I was a bad influence on the girl. I was the one who’d introduced her to drinking and smoking and sex. I’d taken her virginity, much to my embarrassment and we slept together whenever we were trashed. There wasn’t any commitment between us, not in that way. She’d become a "social rebel" when she was with me. It made me laugh. She was so innocent when I met her; I felt an irrational need to protect her like she was my little sister. And then I went and fucked her! So I messed that one up big time. She’d given up on the whole cute thing and she’d grown into a hot woman over the past two years. Guys stared at her and she loved it. I was a bad influence but I was never sorry. I was much too selfish to give up her company. If I did I’d be all alone and I didn’t want that.
It was Friday. My usual routine consisted of me showering; texting Anna, then we’d go bar hopping around London, after it was safe to say we were legless we’d stumble into my flat, have sex and then I’d wake up and she was gone, I’d always have a text from Anna saying ‘Last night was fun! See you next week baby! A. xxx’. And that was it.
It was a sad life, but I was content because I wasn’t going to get anything better. As long as I was eating, drinking, having sex and repeating that same, sad, pathetic pattern I was content. I wasn’t happy but I was content.
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