A Rock Opera.
Extraordinary Girl
The party was to be held at that same underground club beside the Chinese restaurant. Even from outside the music pounding away could easily be recognised as a fast, bratty punk tune.
I followed Jimmy and Ariel down the short set of stairs and through the door of the club. The club was much more crowded than the last time I had been there; some partygoers sat by the bar, while the majority of the rest eagerly crowded around the mini stage.
“I’ll see you guys later,” Jimmy said, his gaze directed towards the bar where a pretty brunette was seated.
Ariel rolled her eyes. “Come on.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me into the heart of the mini mosh pit, the excitement in her eyes infectious. I smiled to myself at the thought of having Ariel all to myself, away from the prying eyes of Jimmy while he attempted another shot with yet another girl.
Tunny, I presumed, was the mowhawked, jean-clad lead singer. His voice was much like that of Johnny Rotten of the Sex Pistols – hard and angry. The band weren’t too talented; but their music was bitter and strong. And it perfectly seemed to match my feelings of the world.
I could feel Ariel’s eyes upon me almost the entire time. But for some reason, I felt uncomfortable. Why didn’t I act upon my feelings, too? Why couldn’t I act like a fearless sex god just like Jimmy?
He lacks the courage in his mind
Like a child left behind
Like a pet left in the rain…
Yet as the band took a quick break in the middle of their set, I turned to casually ask Ariel for a drink only to find no one standing beside me. My eyes peered across the top of the heads of everyone in the room until I found Ariel heading out the door.
I roughly pushed past the tangle of bodies in the direction of the door. My feet pounded up the steps and out onto the street; Ariel was out of sight.
There was a muffled sound from beside me – and there, on the front step of the closed Chinese restaurant, sat Ariel, huddled up with her face in her hands.
She’s all alone again
Wiping the tears from her eyes…
My heart skipped a beat. Why in hell was she crying?
“Ariel?”
She didn’t reply; instead, she remained hunched over. Not only was I surprised, but almost scared at the thought that someone who appeared so incredibly strong and hard-shelled was sitting outside a dingy restaurant crying.
I sighed, slowly walking over to where she sat and taking my place beside her. We remained awkwardly silent for what seemed like hours. My thoughts remained annoyingly present; was I supposed to console her for whatever goddamn reason she was crying? Hug her or something?
Before I could act on my thoughts, Ariel finally spoke up. “I must look like a fucking tool,” she sniffed, “sitting here crying for no fucking reason while some hot party goes on down below.”
I gave a hollow laugh, still unsure as to what I should say.
“I’m sorry.” She flicked the hair out of her eyes, staring out across the lonely road.
“What for?” I asked, trying to hide my surprise. Girls were so fucking confusing sometimes…
She shook her head. “It’s really stupid, and frankly, I can’t be fucked explaining.” She sniffed again, sounding as though she was trying to stop a fresh flow of tears from surfacing.
“What is wrong?” I asked honestly, wondering if I should earnestly take her gentle, feminine hand and hold it in mine just like they did in those shit movies.
She stood up and wandered over to the curb of the road. I heard her sigh in frustration.
“This world.” I could hear her swear under her breath. She spun around, her fists clenched at her side. “Seriously, Jesus, what the fuck am I doing with my life? I have no job, no education, no sense of being or purpose. I’m sick of worrying over this…”
She gets so sick of crying…
“When I look in the mirror, I seriously wonder what I am – “
She sees the mirror of herself…
“-and what am I doing with it? Why don’t I commit myself to something? Sell myself off to lead a boring life like everyone else?”
An image she wants to sell
To anyone willing to buy…
“I’m sick of not being taken seriously. Because I’m a girl. Because I’m young. Because I can’t be fucked to go to fucking school, because I didn’t want to feed off my parents and live with their fucking insecurities.”
She paused, aimlessly scraping the toe of her shoe along the concrete. She began to kick the ground angrily and fresh tears welled up in her eyes.
“I don’t know who I am, Jesus,” she whispered. “I’m sick of guys checking me out. I’m sick of the club manager trying to assault me every time I go in there. I’m sick of authority, and I’m sick of this shithole.”
I sat there, speechless after what she had just said. I had been wondering the same thing my whole life; what did I want? Why did society make me feel like shit?
Because society was shit.
I followed Jimmy and Ariel down the short set of stairs and through the door of the club. The club was much more crowded than the last time I had been there; some partygoers sat by the bar, while the majority of the rest eagerly crowded around the mini stage.
“I’ll see you guys later,” Jimmy said, his gaze directed towards the bar where a pretty brunette was seated.
Ariel rolled her eyes. “Come on.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me into the heart of the mini mosh pit, the excitement in her eyes infectious. I smiled to myself at the thought of having Ariel all to myself, away from the prying eyes of Jimmy while he attempted another shot with yet another girl.
Tunny, I presumed, was the mowhawked, jean-clad lead singer. His voice was much like that of Johnny Rotten of the Sex Pistols – hard and angry. The band weren’t too talented; but their music was bitter and strong. And it perfectly seemed to match my feelings of the world.
I could feel Ariel’s eyes upon me almost the entire time. But for some reason, I felt uncomfortable. Why didn’t I act upon my feelings, too? Why couldn’t I act like a fearless sex god just like Jimmy?
He lacks the courage in his mind
Like a child left behind
Like a pet left in the rain…
Yet as the band took a quick break in the middle of their set, I turned to casually ask Ariel for a drink only to find no one standing beside me. My eyes peered across the top of the heads of everyone in the room until I found Ariel heading out the door.
I roughly pushed past the tangle of bodies in the direction of the door. My feet pounded up the steps and out onto the street; Ariel was out of sight.
There was a muffled sound from beside me – and there, on the front step of the closed Chinese restaurant, sat Ariel, huddled up with her face in her hands.
She’s all alone again
Wiping the tears from her eyes…
My heart skipped a beat. Why in hell was she crying?
“Ariel?”
She didn’t reply; instead, she remained hunched over. Not only was I surprised, but almost scared at the thought that someone who appeared so incredibly strong and hard-shelled was sitting outside a dingy restaurant crying.
I sighed, slowly walking over to where she sat and taking my place beside her. We remained awkwardly silent for what seemed like hours. My thoughts remained annoyingly present; was I supposed to console her for whatever goddamn reason she was crying? Hug her or something?
Before I could act on my thoughts, Ariel finally spoke up. “I must look like a fucking tool,” she sniffed, “sitting here crying for no fucking reason while some hot party goes on down below.”
I gave a hollow laugh, still unsure as to what I should say.
“I’m sorry.” She flicked the hair out of her eyes, staring out across the lonely road.
“What for?” I asked, trying to hide my surprise. Girls were so fucking confusing sometimes…
She shook her head. “It’s really stupid, and frankly, I can’t be fucked explaining.” She sniffed again, sounding as though she was trying to stop a fresh flow of tears from surfacing.
“What is wrong?” I asked honestly, wondering if I should earnestly take her gentle, feminine hand and hold it in mine just like they did in those shit movies.
She stood up and wandered over to the curb of the road. I heard her sigh in frustration.
“This world.” I could hear her swear under her breath. She spun around, her fists clenched at her side. “Seriously, Jesus, what the fuck am I doing with my life? I have no job, no education, no sense of being or purpose. I’m sick of worrying over this…”
She gets so sick of crying…
“When I look in the mirror, I seriously wonder what I am – “
She sees the mirror of herself…
“-and what am I doing with it? Why don’t I commit myself to something? Sell myself off to lead a boring life like everyone else?”
An image she wants to sell
To anyone willing to buy…
“I’m sick of not being taken seriously. Because I’m a girl. Because I’m young. Because I can’t be fucked to go to fucking school, because I didn’t want to feed off my parents and live with their fucking insecurities.”
She paused, aimlessly scraping the toe of her shoe along the concrete. She began to kick the ground angrily and fresh tears welled up in her eyes.
“I don’t know who I am, Jesus,” she whispered. “I’m sick of guys checking me out. I’m sick of the club manager trying to assault me every time I go in there. I’m sick of authority, and I’m sick of this shithole.”
I sat there, speechless after what she had just said. I had been wondering the same thing my whole life; what did I want? Why did society make me feel like shit?
Because society was shit.