Pencils, Dust, and Imperfection

"Gloria's gone"

My wife gave me an odd look, but it quickly changed to pure surprise. "Really? That's great!" she exclaimed, genuintley happy as she hugged me hard before giving me a quick kiss. "What about Christian?" she inquired.

Still here!

"He's still here." I replied.

Adrienne gave me a sympathetic look as she slupped her shoes off and laid down beside me in bed. "He'll be gone soon...we just have to be patient."

I just nodded. I knew she was right, but I was sick of waiting. Sanity is a basic essential for most people, and I miss having it.

"I'm going to jump in the shower really fast," Adie informed. "We can talk about it after, if you want."

I nodded again. "I'd like that," I told her.

She smiled a little and was about ready to leave, but I refrained her by saying, "Thanks...for everything. Your patience, understanding, and forgiveness. I'm just sorry about all of this."

Adrienne shook her head slightly as she sweetly ruffled my black hair. "I'll say 'you're welcome', but I'm not accepting your apology."

I felt my throat dry up as I tried to say, "I know I did unforgivable things, but I just want you to know how sor--"

"No, Billie," she interrupted. "I'm not accepting your apology because you've done nothing wrong."

My eyes narrowed. "I've ben the worst husband and father for the last year, and I have nothing to apologize for?"

"But that wasn't you," my wife persisted. "You--Billie Joe Armstrong, are a great husband and father. Christian and Gloria interfered this year, but it's not your fault; it's not like you asked for any of this. Joey, Jakob, and I know that you're sick, and that you'll be back 150% when you get better."

I just stared at her, speechless. I felt like I did when I wrote 'Redundant'--'I love you's' not enough, I'm last for words. It was remarkable because I haven't felt like that with her for what seems to be an eternity.

I couldn't think of anything else to sy, thought, so I told her I loved her, even though it wasn't enough. She told me that she loved me too, and she kissed my hand. She later left for the shower and I was left alone around midnight in my bedroom that I had passed out in just a few hours earlier.

All of a sudden, a melody struck me followed by a simple lyric. I pulled out a notepad and pen from my end table and scribbled down some form of what I had imagined.

'My beating heart belongs to you', was the only lyric I had thought of. I sort of stared at the words for a while as I tried to think of something to add. A few long seconds later, I had jotted down about half of a song, and I was just beaming with pride. I mean, I hadn't written a song in ages, and this one actually had some potential.

A little too mushy for my taste.

Anything that isn't about killing puppies, molesting children, or burning a town full of people around is too mushy for you.

True, but since Gloria's gone, can't you make things more interesting?

I'm sick of all this black and white.

Sorry, but I don't feel like indulging you, and I really don't feel like seeing you happy.

You're such a wet blanket--almost as wet as Gloria's.
It's disapointing, because I thought that we could be best friends.

I can't really be friends with a voice inside my head; at least, my sanity wouldn't allow it.

Fuck your sanity.
It draws too many lines and prohibits you from having fun.

It may, but it keeps me sane--hence the root word--and it keeps me alive, and life is a pretty important thing.

Sanity's never done you any good. All it did was force you to be labeled by a disease and be excluded from a washed-up, greedy, and aimless society. It made you into an outsider, and being on the outside looking in sucks a bit, as I've noticed.

Sanity may be a detriment right now, but that's just because i'm sick. I'll appreciate what sanity I'll have left when you leave my subconsious.

I just don't see that happening.
I plan on crashing in this sub for a long time.

Cynoplorian doesn't seem to agree with your ideal.

It actually does, Armstrong.
I got rid of GLoria first, which was nice, because she was an emotional wreck who couldn't be trusted as a heartless schemer, but it left me--Christian Armstrong: diabolicism extraordinaire who still has a few tricks up his sleeve.

You can't possibly have another plan in the works.

In the words of the Go-Go's, "Our Lips Are Sealed." I guess it's, 'my' instead of 'our' since Gloria's--

I learned over time how to ignore Christian. HIs rambles became a distant buzzing sound as I drifted off into a painless sleep once again. I had wanted to talk to Adrienne, but I didn't see that happening at least not tonight.

Good. My annoyed gland needs a rest.

You really are something you know that?

Something special?

No, not at all.

Oh well. I figured I'd give it a try.
You could've humored me, though.

No, because that would be indulging you; weren't you paying attention earlier?

Yeah, but like I said, I'd figure I'd give it a try.
Weren't you paying attention?

I'd really like to go to sleep, Christian.

I'm aware.
You can tell that I am by how effectively well I'm keeping you awake.

Since you're just a personality, and technically me, wouldn't you want to help me instead of hurting me?

No, not if I'm self-destructive.
Gloria was carrying your touch; I was the one who wanted to burn everyone down with it.

But why?

Because I'm the enemy.
I find being on the other side of 'vs. Armstrong' to be much more vindication than the shoulder for you to cry on.

I just shook my head a little and sighed.
I couldn't get anywhere with Christian and I was sick of trying.
I fell asleep, though, as soon as I tuned him out.