Symphony of Melancholy

It was only a few months more before I met my next girl.

I had known her since high school, but only reconnected with her when we were home for about a month in early 2011.

Her name was Hanna Warnes.

I’ll be honest at this point, it was mainly just a physical attraction. She had a great body, and she knew how to please me and didn’t complain when I had to leave for months on end.

Yet, I found myself loving her in more than a friendly way, and I couldn’t even explain why. Max, Dan, Matt, and Chris all hated her. The same went for anyone else who met her. She came on tour with us a few times, and it just made the tension on the bus skyrocket.

She was great to me, and at the time I didn’t understand what about her everyone disliked. Of course, I soon understood, but at the time I was just blinded.

It lasted with her for about a year. A hard year, I’ll admit. When I left her at home, she’d basically ignore me the entire time I was gone and then get mad about me not talking to her when I got back. I tried to argue, saying I called her every day (which I did) but it only made things worse.

I got into the habit of just apologizing and getting over it, like it was my fault.

When she went with us, she complained the whole time. About being bored, the guys being mean to her, about it being hard to get off the bus in heels, about the way my fans looked, about me hugging female fans.

I got sick of it, but if I were to say anything about it or suggest she get a flight home, she just pulled the “You could be cheating on me when I’m not here, I have a right to be here and care about it..”

It got to the point where I would try to make concerts last longer to be away from her, hide in the tiny bathroom on the bus, and take Max to go sit alone somewhere just so I could give her the excuse that we were “Working on new music”. If she were smarter, she would have seen right through that lie. We had just put out a new album, why would we be writing new music?

I still dealt through it, hoping that I could get her to trust me more and it would get better. Now I realized, it never would.

It was one tour across Europe that things started to change. She wasn’t with us, and once again, she ignored my every attempt to talk to her. At this point, I had actually gotten used to it. A few times, I was tempted to sleep with another woman, wanting to feel the affection that I longed for and was deprived of when I was away. But I stayed strong and didn’t do anything stupid.

Then, right after the third to the last show on the tour, Chris got sick. The rest of the shows were canceled and rescheduled, promising to be back and to reimburse the tickets already bought. Our manager was afraid that, with him being sick, it would get the rest of us sick and that would waste more time than him just getting better.

So we all got a flight back home the next day. A week and a half early.

Knowing this would be a surprise, and full ready to apologize for not talking to her (since I had just accepted my fate) I went and bought roses for her on the way home.

It was late in the afternoon, but I knew she would be home. She always is. Plus, her car was outside our flat.

I paused to check myself in the mirror, making sure I looked perfectly presentable to surprise her with roses and a night out for the both of us.

I unlocked the door and went in as quietly as I could manage. Then I heard the tell-tale sound of moaning. Her moaning.

Immediately brushing it off, I told myself “I’ve been gone for a while. She’s probably pleasing herself.” And with that, I waited. I figured sooner or later, she’d be done and I could make it seem like I just came home and everything would go according to plan, and then I could show her what she was missing later tonight.

Then I heard something else. A groan of sorts. This didn’t match up with my theory of “Pleasing herself”.

Now suspicious and thinking the worst, I headed to our bedroom and pushed the cracked door all the way open.

Low and behold, there was Hanna and some bloke fucking on our bed.

At first, she didn’t notice me, but after a few seconds, the guy noticed me standing there and jumped away from her.

It was a heartbreaking sight for me. I had dropped the roses and was just staring blankly at her.

She tried to beg and say she was sorry, and then when that didn’t work she tried to tell me it was my fault. At that, I just left. I went to Max’s place, explained it to him, and stayed there.

I only went back to her flat when she wasn’t there and collected my things quickly, not wanting a confrontation.

In the end, I was back the way I started. Alone and falling into the depths of my depression.

Four failed relationships and I couldn’t stand my life. I threw my feelings and depression into writing our third album.

I couldn’t stand girls in general anymore.

And my bad luck still hasn't changed.