Blackholes

Prologue #2 – Teo

I am a zombie, the media always says so, don’t they?

I walk up and down my one-bedroom apartment in Santa Monica in utter uneasiness as I wait for the guys. Today is the day I have been waiting for so long and I am clearly in a downward spiral of anxiety. “You have been clean before, Teo.” I try to calm myself. “You have known this world.”

My eyes are puffy as hell. I have been crying for a whole week straight in uncertainty and it was only today that felt finally ready to stop. However, when I look at my own reflection on the mirror I still can’t recognize the man staring back at me with such intensity, the image has been completely distorted and I can only discern a depressing thought that I would rather not acknowledge. Yes, I have aged, my eyes are smaller and my face looks weaker. I am not as skinny as I used to be but I can still feel my ribs sticking out when I scratch my stomach. I wear the same clothes everyday because they are the only ones I have left. My hair, wavy and shoulder length, smells like tobacco, pot and whisky, all blended together in a grand scent mixer. My hands are always cold and sweaty and my newly acquired beard covers up my chin. I look down at my wrist and instead of finding Fame’s name written down I can only distinguish what appears to be a little boy’s scribble. My snow-white body is covered with bruises and cuts from head to toes. I have been disguised in a drug addict’s body. And I wonder: how did I ever let this happen? How could anyone?

I sit down on the floor for a while and try to close my eyes for a bit, relaxing the pain as my thoughts drift away. While I drown on the blackness of the whole I realize that I have actually tried to ease things as much as possible within my reach. I mean, I have tried to make my apartment look as smart as possible. I have tried to put a bit of order and I have thrown away about five rubbish bags full of junk. I have reorganized my books in alphabetical order and repeated the same procedure with my album and vinyl collections. I have placed all of my guitars inside my closet with my recording kit and my Polaroid. I have archived my scribbles in a folder and the bills I have to pay in another. Haven’t touched the stuff underneath my couch though, Mars doesn’t like me moving anything from there. She gets all grumpy.

“Teo! Open the fucking door!” It is Dante’s voice, rusty as always. I sprang to my feet and ran to the door; my heart finally pumping. I breathe deeply before turning the knob and there I go…and…and.

“Where are the others?” I ask naïvely. Dante shrugs.

“Man, I told you, they are busy. You know Noel; his children had a play today at school. He told me to say hi though. He wanted me to ask you if you want to meet him for lunch tomorrow at Rita’s.”

“But…what about Sam?” I ask even though I don’t really want to know the truth.

“Teo you have to give him time, man.” Dante says as he places a hand on my shoulder. I knew this would happen. “He will understand, eventually. I guess. Just give him more time.” He hugs me, embracing me like a son…and I am just so upset…so upset. “Time heals everything my friend.” I won’t give into tears…but I can’t. Time isn’t what I need. I have waited long enough and I wonder: do I really want this? Am I ready to stop? Have I truly known the world before?

“Dante…Am I really that much of a zombie?”