The Ocean

I didn’t mean to hurt him, I really truly didn’t. I guess I knew I would and I could have stopped but if I kept going, if I stayed I would have wound up dead which seems worse than just packing up and leaving. The band, the fame, and the go go go fast pace of it all was tearing me apart. I was so wrapped up in it all and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to ask for help, I didn’t know how to tell anyone that I wanted to disappear. How are you supposed to tell someone that you’re thinking of killing yourself when you are in the most successful band in the world? They would laugh, they would call you a diva, and they would say you’re being ungrateful. There was no point in telling anyone. They would ship me away and tell some lie about me being sick with the flu and that’s more lying, more pain. I didn’t want that so I stayed quiet. I pretended to be myself, I pretended to be okay, I pretended that I wasn’t tired. Yes I was ready to sign a football contract, yes I will go on another tour, yes I will do that interview, yes I will film my life for a movie, yes I will do that signing, yes I will love to be made into a wax figure.

I couldn’t say no. I couldn’t say no to anything or to anyone so they pushed me and the rest of the boys to do more tours, do more interviews, stay up later, tweet the fans more, wave more and for godsakes put on a smile and pretend like you’re having the time of your life. But I was in pain, I was hurting so deeply. The ache in my chest spread to my head down to my fingertips and then my toes. I was finding it harder and harder to wake up in the morning. Yes I am in a successful band and yes I have a wonderful boyfriend but no I’m not okay and I haven’t been okay for a long time. My role in the band has always been the jokester with hints of protectiveness. I’m the oldest so of course it’s my job to look after everyone. Of course it’s my job to promote that club and those drinks and be seen at the other club. When really all I wanted was to stop joking, stop pretending and stop partying and go home with my boyfriend and watch a romantic film.

I used to love all that stuff, the band the signings the appearances but it slowly became a job, it became a chore and I hate that. They took something I loved and twisted and turned it into a product and all I could do was sit back and watch it happen. I tried to fight it at first but they wouldn’t listen to me, I was just some boy in a boy band that would disappear in a few years so what’s the point? I can’t believe I didn’t fight harder, I should have. I should have done a lot of things. But instead I sat back and let this dream of mine crush me down to nothing. I stopped having fun, I stopped knowing how to have fun, I stopped loving and I know I stopped being able to be loved. He always said he loved me no matter what but I could see the pain in his eyes. I knew I was making everything worse.

So I just left. I trashed most of my things and made sure I left the flat spotless except for his things and I left. I left the country and stayed in a rural town in Australia for a couple of months hoping the sun and sea would help me feel better, I hoped it would remind me of home. Instead it caused the ocean inside of me to crash and roar until I couldn’t do it anymore and I left.