Just a Mirror for the Sun

I sat on a rock, looking out at the bay, for God knows how long. I had quite a few things I needed to think through and what better place to do so than here, watching the waves carelessly caress the rocks and the beach...teasing it with its swift and perpetual touch. It was captivating to watch and allowed my troubled head to drift away into a world where my problems seemed obsolete. Perhaps here, in my temporary heaven, I would be unbothered...left to somehow sort out these tribulations.

You see...I'm not much of a serious kind of guy. In fact, in fear of becoming too serious, I will often times blurt out random fragments of speech and possibly even incoherent babbles just to avoid the situation. I'm the shining light in a world of darkness, I suppose. I live to make people smile, laugh out loud, or even stare, appalled at my rambunctious actions. I also live to make music, with my two best friends...but lately, there's been no talking to Billie. He's becoming a completely different person...one that was once loved and admired by millions. Now, not only is he still loved and admired, he is also hated and reviled by ones who had once grown to adore him. He gets death threats on a daily basis.

I've tried to ignore it. I've tried to act as if nothing different was happening, but Mike and I finally realized an awful certainty: We've lost him. No longer is he the sarcastic, lovable punk who would kick your ass if you looked at him the wrong way. Oh, no. He's become something comparable to a monster, growing more and more unstoppable by the minute. I wish it would stop...I would love nothing more than to see him as the man he used to be. As much as I would like to see that become a reality, it's too late. He's too far gone into the game of politics and environmentalism...a game one cannot easily escape...a game one can become easily addicted to. Mike and I went along with it at first, but we simply don't believe it's the best route for the music anymore. We have to speak up before the three of our asses end up six feet underground.

The sun was now dropping rapidly, its destination being below the horizon. I watched it in awe, wondering why more people don't appreciate this simple natural beauty. The sun cast its rays across the sky, deep orange and pinkish in color. Then, as if this wasn't beautiful enough, it's mirrored across the water, stretching as far as the eye can see and causing ripples in the light. The way it did so made the light look as if it was dancing in celebration of the sun's way of continually brightening our days.

I'd once been able to do that. My actions brought happiness to those who loved me...who loved us...but now it's as if all they see is Billie and what he stands for today. They automatically assume it's what I also stand for, so now I am no longer that light. I am viewed as a minion of Billie Joe Armstrong.

As much as this sickens me, it's a natural thing for people to do. He's the front man of our band, so everyone believes what he says is something we all are thinking. It used to be true...we used to be so happy.

I began to think that maybe my problem was my inability to face reality. Maybe, if I'd been serious, I would still be married. Maybe, if I'd been a little more conscious of the repercussions, my son and daughter would respect me more. Perhaps...I could have stopped this before it even began. I could have saved him...

It's too late now. What's done is done; I've been set in my ways for years and Mike and I have announced our displeasure to Billie. He was floored...then he didn't even want to talk to us. He kept going on about how we could really be making a difference to people, but at what cost will he finally realize we're becoming clones? Will an embarrassing downfall for the three of us be worth selling out our true beliefs by...conforming?! Hadn't we been against that to begin with? Down with the morale majority, 'cuz I wanna be the minority. Those words...written for what seems like so long ago...prove hypocrisy for our band. It's a shame there are some who are still too awed by our "brilliance" to see it.

There's another matter to prove hypocrisy in Billie's actions. He will say one thing...then contradict himself by his own feats. We promised the fans no more side-projects until the follow-up of American Idiot...yet there was Billie, scheduling secret Pinhead Gunpowder tours and creating this band, Foxboro Hot Tubs, to experiment with a new sound. Hadn't he realized that this wouldn't work? Sure, some fans were ecstatic, but others want nothing more than Green Day.

The sun was now completely hidden beneath the horizon, it's rays of light diminished, giving a chance for the moon and stars to illuminate the night. Off in the distance, I thought I saw something dark sail into the bay, and wondered if it was me.

Why I possibly could have thought that I had jumped from a bridge into the cool depth below is beyond me. Somehow, I felt as if I wasn't myself at all as I sat on this rock. I felt...ghost-like and surreal. I had to pinch myself in the arm just to convince myself that it was not I that had plunged into the water.

It's not something I would do. I feel helpless, but I'm not that weak. No, I have responsibilities and I can't back down on Mike now. He needs me to help Billie find himself once more. We need to bring him back.

Mere minutes later, pandemonium seemed to have struck that bridge I'd seen the dark object fall off of. Cop cars, ambulances, and some strange device that appeared foreign to me circled around the area as hysterical people swarmed the scene. I bet that dark object was a suicidal jumper...pity that these people hadn't been able to save the poor soul in time.

I heard a sudden noise behind me and saw a frantic Mike running at me, his car parked haphazardly off in the distance. I panicked. Could that dark object have been Billie? Did he crack under the pressure, unable to save himself from the horror he'd become?

"Tre! Man, I've been looking all over for you! It's Billie...he wants us at the studio right now.He says he has an idea for Green Day that will blow our minds!" he exclaimed, the buoyancy in his voice contagious. I grinned ear to ear. We'd done it. We'd gotten through to him.

"Alright, let's do this bitch!" I squealed, jumping up and taking one last look at the bay. The chaos was still going on over on the bridge, but it seemed to slowly be dying down. They had pulled this dark object out of the water and were unable to resuscitate it. It had died.

Billie's sudden revival was proof that there's more to me than my spastic randomocity. I too am able to voice my opinions and make them known to the ones who matter most. Thankfully, with the help of Mike, we'd done it before it was too late.

The monster, thought to be impossible to overcome, has been defeated. Perhaps it had been the dark object that was asphyxiated by the bay...or my overactive imagination trying to create a story out of something as simple as Billie's insistence upon heading over to the studio. Who knows...but I would like to believe that the only way to have saved Billie from that monster was to have it destroy itself.