We Only Breathe For So Long

I don’t recall ever returning home, most likely because I passed out somewhere along my drunken path and a kind soul called Jared to fetch me. Thanks to his brilliant idea and my more than often drinks overdose, I always had his business card in one of my pockets.

I was in my bed, back in our smelling bus, with the covers tangled all over my body. I looked up, squinting my eyes to try and see the clock that stood in the far corner of the bad-lit room. It was around lunchtime, a little past noon. I sighed and dropped my head heavily against the cold side of the pillow.

The tour so far has been great. We had a show in a different venue almost everyday, and the best thing was that the venues were close from one another, so we didn’t really need to make many road trips around the country. Whenever we got days off, we would sit and joke around, attempting to write lyrics and to create chords.

It has been a week since I’ve last written anything. The messy notebook where I kept all of my written songs was unfinished, untouched, filled with dust particles –the last page being a song about Kylie. As much as I longed to write a song about her, I couldn’t put my feelings into words this time. And that scared me. I’m a musician; I’m good with putting my feelings into words because it’s something that comes naturally. But this time I couldn’t. I would jot words down, but it wouldn’t make much sense.

“She’ll have to choose one of us.” His words haunted me.

I wanted her to choose me. Who wouldn’t? But no matter how much I desired so, I had to face reality –I was in a band, we were on the road for six months a year, she wouldn’t want to follow me around and watch me pursue my dream because she would want to follow her own. Not to mention the fact that Eric was the better guy. I hated to admit any good from that prick, but my mind wouldn’t allow me not to be honest with myself. He had all the attributes I did, which were few, with a ‘er’ in the end –funnier, cooler, nicer.

It all seemed too good at first, for a girl like Kylie to love me. Me, out of all people. I was a stick, could be classified as slender man if I weren’t famous. I drank more than I texted and sang for a living. What could I offer her besides my love?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

It would be no surprise if she chooses the better guy over me and leaves me for him, but it would sure hurt like hell. Twenty drinks wouldn’t be sufficient to make me numb to that kind of pain. I couldn’t afford to lose her, she was the only thing I had of value in my life. Just knowing she was with him made me feel sick. The feelings of being sick, but you’re not really sick. You’re just sad, upset, and unhappy. You just feel like lying in bed all day. And that was exactly what I had planned for today.

I was always running away from someone or something. But I’ve never gotten anywhere. Except when I met her, I didn’t feel like I was running away. It was the exact opposite, I was running towards her, wanting her to be my finishing line.

I haven’t slept very well since the last time that we spoke. Perhaps because I was overthinking things and it was making me a little paranoid the more I thought about it. I desired to accept that excuse, because deep inside I knew that I’ve been avoiding saying the truth out loud.

We were fools to think that nothing could go wrong. I was the biggest fool of them all. I should have known from the start that it wouldn’t work out in the end. But I was stubborn, and she was even more.

Cowards should go to hell, including me.

She deserved to be happy. I knew she did. That’s why I also knew that I had to do the right thing. I had to be the stronger guy.

“When she does, I don’t mind if it isn’t me. As long as she’s happy.”

I knew exactly what I had to do. It wouldn’t be as easy as a stroll around the park. It would probably be the fucking hardest thing I’d ever have to do in my life.

I’d have to make her choose him.