Keep the Faith
Hello Angel, Tell Me Where Are You?
The flashes nearly blind you as you walk out the door. You shield your eyes behind the dark sunglasses but the bright light still pierces your barrier. You hide your disappointment and quickly put on the mask that you have become so comfortable wearing. Teenagers run up and forcefully thrust a marker into your hand, and you reluctantly oblige as objects are shoved into your face. You try to sign them as fast as they are pushed towards you, but a task like that is not as easy as it seems. Questions bombard you, and you decline a couple of pleas from teenage girls who wish you to sign things which you do not desire.
I stand in the cold night air, just observing. Your face is tight with exhaustion, but you trudge on, hoping to grant the satisfaction to your fans. I lean against the brick wall next to me as more fans materialize, and look on as you search for protection, anyone that might get you through this horde of kids. You stand shyly as they take pictures, some happily standing beside you as others wrap their arms around you. I shake my head and smile, fidgeting with the sleeve of my hoodie.
Suddenly I see a flash of it. Just for a split second it crosses your face, but I am not one to dismiss it so easily. A broken smile crosses your lips before you hide it and continue your act. I see my hot breath lingering in the fresh night air as I sigh deeply; I wish it had not come to this. I can see the cracks in your mask. The brutal flaws. But yet no-one else seems to be aware of what is happening. They continue to bombard you with screams as you try to fend them off.
After a while they seem to slowly trail away, leaving you drained on the back step of the large building. I wait patiently, a small smile tugging on the sides of my lips. You slump your shoulders and run your hand through your hair before sighing deeply. As you lift your head you seem to notice my dark figure casually against the brick wall. You quickly smiling, returning the mask to your face. But I have seen enough.
You walk slowly up to me, the last fan who waits silently. When you approach me you still have the marker in your hand.
“Do you want me to sign anything?” You ask.
I smirk and shake my head slowly. “No.”
You put the lid on the black pen and shove it into your pocket. “Did you like the show?” You try again.
I nod, “Of course. Very dramatic.”
You laugh, but this time I cannot tell if it is faked. “We are who we are.”
“I guess your right.” I agree, “Where is the rest of the band?”
“In the van.” You reply softly.
“They made it to safety?” I grin.
“I guess so.” You exhale.
“What compels you to do this?” I ask.
“Being a musician? It’s just the energy-“
I cut you off before you can continue. “No.” I look at the dark sky, “The fans.”
“The fans?” You enquire.
I nod, “What compels you to stand them?”
“Stand them?” You ask again.
I stand up straight now, giving you my full attention. “The fans. The teenies. The goddamn cruelty. You cannot see what it is doing to you, the pain it inflicts. You are not a person to them, you are a plaything which can be chucked around as they please. You’ve been abused so much but you still seem to stand there and take it. What compels you?”
You seem stunned by my outburst.
I fill the long silence with my words. “I think the only thing that compels you is that maybe there are a few different people in the crowd. People who will not abandon you. Who will respect you. Who will stand by you no matter what. Hell, you might even do it to maybe see true fans like me once in a while.”
I can see your smile begin to falter.
“I do not care about what other people say. How much they drag you through the mud. I do not care about what rumours I hear about you being on drugs again, because I know that is not who you are.”
The mask fully drops now.
“I want you to know that there are people out there who care about you. Not about whom they want you to be, not about who you were, not about what you are going to be. But they care about you. Right now.”
In the veil of night I see your tears glisten as they slid down your cheeks.
“No Gerard. I do not want an autograph. I do not want you to sign anything. I do not want you to say anything to make me believe in you, because I already do. I want you to hear my words.”
The moonlight shines down on us softly.
“I want you to know that I fucking believe in you.”
I shake in disbelief that I am finally saying this to you after sleepless nights.
“I want you to know that you are not alone. Because you believed in me.”
You try to hide your face but I proudly face you with the tears rolling down my face.
“Now let me believe in you.”
You raise your head as I feel a silent tear run down my face.
“Keep the faith.”
And with that I turn into the parking lot, leaving you behind me. I do not wipe the tears away as I listen to my heartbeat race in my chest. I smile and stare up at the moon, hoping that you will never forget this night. That you will not forget about our faith. Hoping that you will not forget this feeling.
Hoping that you will not forget my words.
I stand in the cold night air, just observing. Your face is tight with exhaustion, but you trudge on, hoping to grant the satisfaction to your fans. I lean against the brick wall next to me as more fans materialize, and look on as you search for protection, anyone that might get you through this horde of kids. You stand shyly as they take pictures, some happily standing beside you as others wrap their arms around you. I shake my head and smile, fidgeting with the sleeve of my hoodie.
Suddenly I see a flash of it. Just for a split second it crosses your face, but I am not one to dismiss it so easily. A broken smile crosses your lips before you hide it and continue your act. I see my hot breath lingering in the fresh night air as I sigh deeply; I wish it had not come to this. I can see the cracks in your mask. The brutal flaws. But yet no-one else seems to be aware of what is happening. They continue to bombard you with screams as you try to fend them off.
After a while they seem to slowly trail away, leaving you drained on the back step of the large building. I wait patiently, a small smile tugging on the sides of my lips. You slump your shoulders and run your hand through your hair before sighing deeply. As you lift your head you seem to notice my dark figure casually against the brick wall. You quickly smiling, returning the mask to your face. But I have seen enough.
You walk slowly up to me, the last fan who waits silently. When you approach me you still have the marker in your hand.
“Do you want me to sign anything?” You ask.
I smirk and shake my head slowly. “No.”
You put the lid on the black pen and shove it into your pocket. “Did you like the show?” You try again.
I nod, “Of course. Very dramatic.”
You laugh, but this time I cannot tell if it is faked. “We are who we are.”
“I guess your right.” I agree, “Where is the rest of the band?”
“In the van.” You reply softly.
“They made it to safety?” I grin.
“I guess so.” You exhale.
“What compels you to do this?” I ask.
“Being a musician? It’s just the energy-“
I cut you off before you can continue. “No.” I look at the dark sky, “The fans.”
“The fans?” You enquire.
I nod, “What compels you to stand them?”
“Stand them?” You ask again.
I stand up straight now, giving you my full attention. “The fans. The teenies. The goddamn cruelty. You cannot see what it is doing to you, the pain it inflicts. You are not a person to them, you are a plaything which can be chucked around as they please. You’ve been abused so much but you still seem to stand there and take it. What compels you?”
You seem stunned by my outburst.
I fill the long silence with my words. “I think the only thing that compels you is that maybe there are a few different people in the crowd. People who will not abandon you. Who will respect you. Who will stand by you no matter what. Hell, you might even do it to maybe see true fans like me once in a while.”
I can see your smile begin to falter.
“I do not care about what other people say. How much they drag you through the mud. I do not care about what rumours I hear about you being on drugs again, because I know that is not who you are.”
The mask fully drops now.
“I want you to know that there are people out there who care about you. Not about whom they want you to be, not about who you were, not about what you are going to be. But they care about you. Right now.”
In the veil of night I see your tears glisten as they slid down your cheeks.
“No Gerard. I do not want an autograph. I do not want you to sign anything. I do not want you to say anything to make me believe in you, because I already do. I want you to hear my words.”
The moonlight shines down on us softly.
“I want you to know that I fucking believe in you.”
I shake in disbelief that I am finally saying this to you after sleepless nights.
“I want you to know that you are not alone. Because you believed in me.”
You try to hide your face but I proudly face you with the tears rolling down my face.
“Now let me believe in you.”
You raise your head as I feel a silent tear run down my face.
“Keep the faith.”
And with that I turn into the parking lot, leaving you behind me. I do not wipe the tears away as I listen to my heartbeat race in my chest. I smile and stare up at the moon, hoping that you will never forget this night. That you will not forget about our faith. Hoping that you will not forget this feeling.
Hoping that you will not forget my words.