My Dinosaur Life

"I’ll let you in on something secret."

(Her)

I guess what I was looking for was to lie low for awhile.

Visit my family at home for awhile until the next tour.

What most people don’t know about me is I’m from a suburb just outside of Minneapolis.

What they think is I live in a skyscraper penthouse in downtown Chicago, or an expensive apartment in Manhattan. Maybe they think a condo overlooking a beach somewhere near L.A. is more my style.

And maybe that’s where I’d be if I hadn’t decided to stay in Minneapolis.

If I hadn’t met him.

Is that pathetic?

It has to be pathetic.

It was easier to disappear than I thought.

I got on a redeye flight without telling my bandmates, turned off my cellphone, showed up on my parents’ doorstep without so much as an explanation, and went to get pizza.

I like being able to do what I want, when I want, and it’s just easier here.

For the record, I love fans.

I love them because I they’re unconditional for the most part.

I can love them from far away.

I can be an island.

It’s a low-interaction relationship.

All they want from me in person is a picture or autograph, sometimes a hug or short conversation.

And then we both go back to our normal lives.

They get a good memory or story to tell and I get an ego boost.

We both win.

What I like about Minneapolis is that no one gives a shit about what I do.

I can go grocery shopping without being in a tabloid.

I can go to a friend’s party and get shit-faced, and no one cares enough to take a picture of it.

It doesn’t haunt me for the next few weeks if I make an ass out of myself.

I think that’s why I like him so much.

I like being low-profile.

I like that he doesn’t demand anything of me.

If we go out to the movies, I don’t get questioned about it.

If we want to go out for pizza at ten-thirty in the morning, there’s no one following me from my car to the door asking me “why.”

Why, why, why.

That’s all anyone ever wants to know.

The secret is…

I don’t know myself.

I guess what I really like about Minneapolis is him.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The bottle rattles as I shake its contents around.

I uncap it, pouring the pills out into my hand.

I stare at the colorful things for half a minute, debating.

I close my fist tight on them, to avoid the temptation to pop more of them than necessary into my mouth.

A few hits from my handful, and I won’t even have to think until morning.

The appeal of it is almost nauseating.

But I don’t want to need it anymore.

I open my fist and let the pills drop into the toilet, and I flush them without hesitation.

I don’t allow myself to lament what I’ve done.

Over the years, I’ve learned there are many other ways to disappear.

Thankfully, my doorbell rings before I have a chance to think too much about what I’ve done, and I leave the bathroom to get the door.

“Hey,” I grin, opening the door for Justin. He greets me with a quick kiss.

“Ready?” he asks. I nod and grab my purse before following him to his car.

Twenty minutes later, I’m meeting his friends for the first time.

If any of them recognize me, they don’t act like it, which I’m grateful for.

It’s just a small party at the Cain’s, so I shouldn’t be nervous.

I feel myself teetering on the edge of a panic attack a few drinks later, but I’m so used to controlling my anxiety from being constantly followed around by cameras after a fuck up that it almost feels normal.

But the look Josh is studying me with at the moment, it pushes my nerves.

The way he’s looking at me, it makes me feel like he knows I’m going to fuck everything up, even though there’s no possible way he’s thinking what I think he’s thinking about me.

And me, stupid me, I’m just trying to convince myself that maybe I can change this time, before it’s too late.