Whittle Myself Into Something

The scenery was next to nothing, flashing by too quickly to understand what it was as we sped down the empty highway. Most people were asleep with their families, couples happily cuddling together and children holding their stuffed animals like their lives depended on it. There were kids partying like I did, and there were probably kids dying. Things never changed on this dumb planet that I lived on, and things never changed in my own life. It was a constant cycle of cigarettes, shows, and waves of emotion crashing into me and wrecking me, leading to the alcohol I held so closely to my shaking body.

My best friend, my gorgeous and perfect best friend, Erin Reynolds, brought me out of my thoughts. “Jesus, Becks, you look like you're at a funeral,” Erin joked, brushing her red hair beneath her beanie again and leaning against the leather couches of our rental bus for Warped. Our band, Dressed To Kill, was spending our summer playing the ever famous Warped Tour, home of cigarettes, pot and booze, all in endless quantities. Erin and I had been working at this since we were freshman, and now, five years later, we were getting our wishes. The bus, small, was almost silent. Our band had passed out already, and only Erin and I remained, laying out on the couches and watching MTV.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, wanting nothing more than a cigarette to swing between my lips and calm me down, but there was a strict no smoking on the bus rule, which I had already gotten in trouble for. I knew that smoking would kill me and my voice, but I didn't really care. It gave me an absence of feeling, and an absence of thought. Most people would call me crazy.

I'd just say I was sick of the same old crap.

“Look at them, Becks,” Erin said, leaning her head on my bony shoulder, breathing out dreamily. “Everyone knows their name, everyone is wishing to be them. And we're going to be them someday. We're going to be the names on their lips,” Erin said, suddenly standing and throwing her hands in the air and laughing. “And now, here at the Staples Center, is the one, the only, DRESSED TO KILL!” Erin yelled, jumping up on the couch next to me. I laughed, tapping against my jeans. Erin always put me in a better mood. Always. I stood as well, my Converse digging into the couch as I yelled.

“Becks! Becks! Becks!” I yelled, the nickname quietly breaking my heart. I didn't like it, but it was what my dad called me, and 'Rebecca' sounded too formal for what I was doing here, and the past the name held hurt far too much. “Erin! Erin! Erin!” I yelled even louder, giggling as Erin fell onto the ground, the MTV music videos long since forgotten. I kept a firm grip on my chest, my heart heaving from all the screaming. I fixed the strings of my hoodie and leaned back on the couch, breathing heavily.

Erin and I had met our freshman year of high school, after I spent the summer choosing between my mother and father. I wasn't a bad kid, but I sure as hell wasn't a good kid either. But me and Erin were like peanut butter and jelly, meant to survive as two rather than as just one. We were good together, and we were one hell of a band. Erin had a voice of an angel, and well, I could write melodies like nobody's business. I began to sing quietly, laughing. “Against a bitter sky, we wait for those who promised our futures,” I sang, trying to work with the melody I had been attempting to write for months. I gave up after a few tries, and Erin smiled, shaking her head and crossing her arms over her chest.

“How are you so good at making up stuff like that off the top of your head? Honestly, love,” Erin said, standing against and grabbing my arms and pulling me up, keeping the smile on her lips. “It's weird,” She finished lamely, and I laughed, filling up my glass with a shot of vodka and turning my laptop on, surfing the web and ignoring the ignorant sounds of Erin criticizing the dancing of the people on MTV, and finally nearly crying once “Sixteen and Pregnant” came on. “Are you kidding!? THAT'S NOT AN ACCOMPLISHMENT!” She screamed, and I winced.

I was watching the videos, with no volume, of me and Erin on stage from our last show, quietly taking note of every thing I messed up. My biggest flaw, my biggest enemy, all of it was me, and that was that.