Blinded

So since I thought needing help to piss was embarrassing, obviously fate had to prove me wrong and award me with something even more embarrassing – and degrading. And that would be being fed like a fucking baby!
At the moment Mikey is cutting my food and feeding it to me, ‘cause I can’t even hold a fucking fork!
Also I’m drinking coke through a straw. That might not sound so out of the ordinary, but just a few hours ago I was drinking coffee through a straw! And for those who might be wondering: No! It is not the same! Some people might say that coffee will always be coffee no matter how you ingest it, but trust me – it fucking sucks when you drink it through a straw!

“You want some more?” Mikey asks. I open my mouth slightly. I can’t get myself to open it more than an inch. I feel so goddamn humiliated! So fucking degraded that I feel like crying. But I refuse to! I’m a grown man that can’t take a piss or eat alone, so I’m definitely not lowering myself further down and crying about it!
I can feel some spaghetti hanging from the fork that enters my mouth slowly, and I know I’ve got sauce on my chin. And perhaps even cheek. I feel like such a kid! A baby!
I slowly and weakly chew the food, while Mikey wipes my mouth with a napkin. This is too degrading. I can’t fucking do this anymore. This is…just… FUCK!
I swallow and hang my head a bit lower. I’m not sure how far down it is by now, but I have a feeling it’s quite far down.
“More?” Mikey asks again. I shake my head. I can hear him put down my fork and picking up his own. I stare off into the dark.
We’re supposed to play tonight. I don’t look forward to it. I can’t tell if the crowd likes it or not. I can’t be as energetic as usual, ‘cause I need to hold on to the fucking mike to make sure I want fall off the stage! I have to listen carefully to the other guys play, ‘cause I can’t just look over at them to make sure we’re on the same page.
This is gonna be the lamest show ever. All because of me.
“More, Gee?” I shake my head again.
“Gee, you’ve only had three bites. Come on, you need to eat.” He talks to as if I am a child. And maybe I am. After all, I can’t do anything on my own, and right now all I’m doing is pouting and refusing to eat. Isn’t that the perfect description of a child?
I can hear Mikey sigh. I grab a hold of the table.

“I’m gonna go lie in my bunk.” My voice is so fucking low, but I so fucking don’t care!
I get to my feet and feel my way off the couch without knocking anything over. I walk away from the lounge, through the kitchenette and into the bunk-area. I feel for my bunk. I think I’ve found it.
I feel inside to find something – anything – recognizable. I find a book. I don’t read. Or write. Oh, joy! Wrong bunk! Oh, am I lucky? Why, yes! What do I win in today’s lottery of ‘Find Your Own Goddamn Bunk’? A teddy bear? A car? An eye-sight?
I walk to the next bunk. I find a small bag – most likely a make-up-bag. Oh, joy! I found a common item! What do I win?

“Gee?” Frank’s voice. I turn around. At least I think I do.
“Can I help you, sir?” he asks with a British accent. I laugh lightly. He really does make me laugh at the most needed times.
Suddenly I feel his hands on my shoulders. My smile becomes awkward.
He turns me to my left, before he guides me into a bunk. I assume it’s mine. He lets go of my shoulders, but as I get myself comfortable – removing a discarded eye-liner in the process proves that yes, it is my bunk – I can feel that he’s still there. Right next to me. There’s silence for a bit.
“Please, don’t hesitate to scream,” he says in his best Indian accent. Again I laugh. I love Mel Brooks quotes.

“Thanks, Frank,” I whisper. I lie back and close my eyes – though the difference is none – and just a few seconds after, I feel a soft kiss on my forehead. Then he leaves. I can hear his footsteps quickly walk away – disappearing down the short, short hallway. Am I really blind, or just conceited?
I keep lying in my bed and try to let my mind rest. I know it’ll be stupid to fall asleep – we have a show in 3 hours. Napping, even, will be stupid. I’d just wake up cranky and tired and in no mood for a show. Though I’m actually not in the mood for a show, anyway. I’m blind for fucks sake! I can sing, but I can’t perform! Not right, anyway.
I’m pouting. Luckily no one’s watching me. I probably look like a baby. Pathetic that is. I really am nothing but pathetic right now.
And how will it look when I show up on stage? I’m not gonna wear sunglasses! I think… Should I? Then people wouldn’t be able to see my empty eyes staring into nothing. Or staring at them. I could accidentally stare at some poor girl, who’d just be freaked out by it.
I guess I need to wear sunglasses.
I’m gonna look so goddamn pathetic – my hands wrapped up in white gaze and my eyes covered by black sunglasses.
I hear footsteps approach me, followed my ruffling next to me. I can hear a soft breath.

“Gee, you really need to eat something. You didn’t have any breakfast, and your lunch wasn’t large either. You need something for your body to decompose. We have a show in-“ I hear Mikey move, “2 hours.” 2? Only 2? I didn’t know it was this late. We usually eat at six…
“Come on Gee. Please?” I sigh.

“Okay, Mikes.” I swing my legs out of my bunk and place my feet on the floor. I can feel the rough fabric through my socks.
Mikey grabs my arm and guides me back to the front lounge. I sit down on the couch in the same place as before. I can’t hear anyone else.

“The other guys are outside. I thought it’d be less…embarrassing for you if it was just me here.” I smile slightly. I know I’m not looking at him. His voice is still somewhere above me, and my head is facing straight ahead. My stomach twists around itself.
“Okay. Scoot over and I’ll help you.” My smile fades, and I scoot. The couch gives in slightly as Mikey sits down next to me. I can hear metal slide over porcelain for a little while.
“Ready?” I nod, then open my mouth. I feel utterly humiliated as the fork enters my mouth. I feel like crying and screaming with frustration and embarrassment. But all I do is bite down on whatever is on the fork and let Mikey pull the fork out of my mouth. I chew on what seems to be beef with some salad. My chews are weak and slow. And they only get weaker and slower as I keep getting fed by my younger brother.