Paper Lanterns

Sleep didn't come easy to me anymore; I missed the effortless way that I used to fall into deep slumbers. These days, my mind was keeping me up; refusing to remain silent. At the age of 40, I found myself an insomniac, and alone. Of course I had company in the form of my band mates who doubled as my best friends as well the occasional lay every now and then, but returning to an empty hotel room after a long day of screaming fans had its way of deflating a person.

During the day, I swelled my own head to make performing and participating in interviews on this press tour possible. When I was left to my own devices at night, however, I changed into an entirely different person. To even call me a person without the adoration of the people that came to see me play was probably giving my existence too much credit.

I left a slew of exes in my wake, never fully satisfied or even content with any one person. After a while, I stopped seeing anyone exclusively. I could not bear to depend on anyone for too long, and I most certainly couldn't stand to have anyone rely on me for even a little while. While I was searching for something stable in a mess of people, I couldn't even offer that myself.

I glanced at the clock on the bedside table. The LED numbers flashed 4:23, daunting me into a miserable state of self-pity. I thought back to a time when staying up past 4am was a daily occurrence that wasn't fueled by insomnia, but by friends and good spirits. Now, I just didn't have it in me. It was enough to put on a facade in front of crowds of people I didn't know; I really could fathom keeping it up any longer than I had to, especially in front of Mike and Tre.

Naturally, my friends worried for my sanity. Of course, they kept their fears hidden from me. I could sense that they had run out of avenues to take to reach out to me, and I was thankful that they had stopped wasting energy on trying to cheer me up. It had been nice, at first, to feel that they had recognized the change in me. After a while though, I grew just as tired as they did of their efforts.

It's not that they had stopped caring. In fact, their lack of outward concern was a product of caring too much. I hated feeling like a burden to anyone, especially the people that I loved most. Knowing this, they backed off, hoping I'd sort things out in my own head. Unfortunately, a sudden epiphany was not coming to me. I couldn't even spark a slow climb out of my depressed state; I had no motivation to do anything but wallow.

I had spent nearly 48 hours awake at this point. Finally deciding that I had enough of waking life, I reached over to the table next to the bed for the bottle of Ambien prescribed to me before I had left my home in Berkeley. Having the day off tomorrow, or today rather, I decided to take twice the dosage I usually took of 10 mg.

I sighed as I took the glass of water that was next to the bottle in my hand. I emptied two pills into my hand before slamming them towards the back of my throat, and washing them down with water. I laid back against the headboard, waiting for the effects of the sleeping pills to take me away.

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I found myself in a familiar place, although... the feeling rushing over me was too foreign to pinpoint. Taking in my surroundings, I realized I was in the small bathroom at 924 Gilman. The walls were plastered with flyers from previous shows with upcoming ones stuck over top, and the reflection in the mirror was one that I hadn't seen in a while. I huffed before resting my hands on the small sink below the mirror, putting all of my weight into it.

I heard the roar of live music thumping through the walls, I recognized the song as Operation Ivy's Bombshell. Just then, the door swung open, nearly knocking me over. I recognized the laugh being omitted to be Tre's. I straightened up, giving myself a stern look in the mirror before turning to him. He grinned wildly, slapping me roughly across the back.

"Billie!" Tre tried to usher me through the doorway. I stood there, bewildered at how young he looked. "We gotta go, we play in like... five minutes?" It seemed like more of a question, one I could not answer as I was just recently catapulted into this night and year.

I quickly snapped out of it, "Yeah... right." I said, my tone not enthusiastic. This seemed to worry Tre, his brow furrowed before he turned around, and lead the way out of the cramped quarters. He looked back to see that I was following him, shooting a reassuring smile in my direction. I managed to return a crooked, half-hearted smile back.

As Tre dragged me towards the stage, I tried to keep up with his pace. I was stopped dead in my tracks when I saw her. She looked the same as she did in my memories from when I first met her. In fact, if my mind serves me correctly, she was wearing the same thing she did on the night we met. Tre let his hand fall from my arm, giving up on moving me. He turned in the direction that my gaze seemed to be lost in.

"Dude!" He waved his hands in front of my face, attempting to get my attention. I tried to ignore them, which only propelled Tre to stand in my line of vision. I swatted him out of the way, and he sighed. "What are you even looking at?" He scanned the crowd, searching for what was capturing my attention.

"Do you know her?" I asked, casually pointing in the direction that Laine was standing. Tre looked in the general way of my pointed finger, a devilish smile appearing on his face.

"No, but I'd like to..." Tre teased. "After the show though." He whined, bringing his grip back to my arm, dragging me along. This time, I let him lead me blindly as I stole glances behind me.

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I jolted forward, rushing my eyes over my surroundings only to realize that I had been dreaming in my hotel room in 2012. I sighed as I sat up, brushing my hands through my hair once I was upright. Glancing over to the alarm clock that read 2:30, I reached for my cellphone. 3 Missed Calls. I unlocked the screen, noting that the calls were all from Mike. Ignoring this, I threw my phone on the bed after letting my body fall into it.