Disenchanted

A love that's so demeaning, I can't speak.

Nothing you can say can stop me going home

Cause I'm out here, on the other side of a jet black hotel mirror.

I listened to that song on repeat the entire next day. As always, I woke too early and stayed up too late. And now I laid in my bed, staring thoughtfully up at the ceiling while the song Famous Last Words played again and again. This was the song that always reminded me the most of him... I played it a lot when he was away on tours and trips with his band. The lyrics constantly reminding me I wasn't alone. I was okay and was going to survive. But playing the song that always gave me hope he would return again and again was bound to do something to my health. But I didn't feel any different. Not noticeably at least. Just the same old familiar safe, numbness I'd become so accustomed to. My walls weren't entirely rid of his presence though. Posters of his band, band shirts on the floor and heaven knows how many of his band sweatshirts I have in my closet that he'd left behind. But I was always the most fond of his Operation Ivy sweatshirt he had gotten at a Gilman concert some punch of years ago. I have a lot of things of value to him here. And it surprises me that he would just leave it all behind without a second word. Maybe it was because he didn't want to shatter my assumed peace with his presence. If he thinks I'm in any kind of peace, he is out of his mind.

I closed my eyes for a bit, but I didn't sleep. I kind of day dreamt of another place and time...

******

“So do you think you'll have to go on tour again soon?” I asked him, snuggled up under the same blanket I am now, in the living room on the love seat watching MTV.

I felt him shrug “No, not for a few months.”

“A few months!?” I bursted, sitting up to look at his face “Why so soon?” I murmured.

He sighed and patted my hair “Because we just released a new album, of course we have to tour.”

“And I have to stay here...” I pouted.

“Essentially.” he smirked. He knew as well as anyone that I hate being on the road. Being away from home. No matter how painful home is. So he already knew I wouldn't be going with him no matter what I wanted to do, because he wouldn't want to have to turn around and drive all the way back to Rodeo because I was homesick. But then when I was home, I was what I call ‘Himsick’ and I wish I could be right in the middle.

“True.” I sighed. Fiddling with our fingers while he pretended to be watching the screen. Though I'd caught him peeking down at me with a worried expression. And I sensed a change.

They had just released Warning, their sixth album since starting the band. I was proud for them, no wait, beyond proud, beaming is more of a word to use. 

******

The house without his constant presence was now disenchanted. Empty like a hollow hole in a tree, hidden away within the confines of the woods. I needed to get out of the house for a bit. There was no one I wanted to visit. Because most everyone I knew when I was here last had either moved or died or wanted nothing to do with me.

His mom and I were pretty tight. Shopping trips and lunch dates and stuff like that whenever he was busy in the studio with his band. Recording what he promised every time was his finest work. And whenever I'd hear it, I'd believe it because it would get better and better every time. But I guy I'd met in Pinole Valley high school was changing. Fading into a shining star that was becoming a household name. His band had hit it big time by the time their second album was released. Maybe it was fame that made us grow apart. Whatever it was, it sickened me.

I was on my feet in half a second, pulling on some boots and changing my shirt. Then turning off the CD player. The Black Parade spinning to a halt inside. And I grabbed the first jacket I touched in the closet and yanked it down over my head without looking at it. I went outside into the fading sunlight. I walked south, away from my house up the sidewalk. Until it thinned into a trail that disappeared into the woods. I followed it into the pitch black confines of branches and leafs that hadn't yet turned orange. I broke out breathless into a wild flower covered hill that hovered above the train tracks at Christie Road. I gasped at the familiarity of the scene before me. The sunset, the tracks, this hill. 

I looked down at myself, the sweatshirt I'd grabbed from the closet was the Operation Ivy sweater I'd worn the night he broke up with me. He had glanced briefly at it, wondering if he should ask for it back. But changed his mind and decided he wouldn't let me freeze. 

His stare bored into my eyes “I want you to understand something.” he said seriously.

“What?” I asked. The wind was cold and it tossed my dyed black hair behind me.

“I want you to think about this. Two very different concepts, there's the fame. And then there's you.”

“Wait... What are y—”

“Please just let me finish.” he interrupted rudely.

I nodded once 

“You and I. And I and fame can't live in the same world. I leave you alone too much and it's either fame is intruding in our relationship too much or that you are intruding too much in fame. My lyrics are getting sloppy and poising their meaning. I'm going to have to decide between the two. Which do you think will be more beneficial for me?” he asked sarcastically, and already he was breaking my heart by even considering fame over me.

“Uh, I don't know. Don't you want to be happy anymore?” I whispered. Trying to give him a equally emotional guilt trip.

“No. Because playing live music makes me happy and you... You...” he couldn't say it.

“Don't.” I finished in a whisper. My one word had two meanings. One of which was that I don't make him happy anymore.  I am a burden. And two was that don't meant don't continue, it's killing me.

“I'm sorry.” he whispered. Tears in his eyes “But I don't love you.”

I broke the silence with a wild sob. Crumbling to my knees, cringing at his harsh words. Bitter and sorrowful, I'd met the end of the line. The end of our relationship. I dabbed the tears on my cheeks with the cuffs of the sweatshirt. The bitter pain ripping my heart to pieces angrily. It wanted me to have noting left to salvage. If I could have died right there I would have.

I knew I was embarrassing him by making a scene, even though there was no one around to see it.

“No, please... Please don't leave me.” I whispered hoarsely. But it didn't matter. Because when I looked up, he was gone. And every trace of his existence here was gone. Like he never existed. Tell that to my broken heart, every moment was a waste. A huge waste of my life. I looked up. The sun had set and the wild flowers were tossing in the wind. Beaconing me to go home. And to cry myself out there instead. But instead I curled up in a ball on the cold hard ground and wrapped my arms around my legs and sobbed into my knees. I was a broken piece of shit. No wonder he left. Hell, I'd hate myself too. Maybe I deserved all of this.

I remembered a little song him and his bassist had sung to me one night when I was being a crabby bitch. I ended up laughing by the end of it. But now I was sniffling while the tears kept coming and singing it in a low voice, it cracked many times, reminding me with each how weak I was.

“Nobody likes you. Everyone left you. They're all out without you. Having fun.”