I - Reintroduction

Clausterphobia set in, as it does every morning, and I questioned if I woke up dead or something. I sat up and hit my head on the ceiling. There was no getting used to this. The second show of the tour was tonight. I felt the sweat of last night dry on my skin. I opened the curtain and climbed out onto the ground.

I wanted to get a clean shirt. I walked into the backlounge and Paul was sitting at his labtop with his headphones on smiling a little typing busily to Rain. I went into the "closet" and got a t-shirt out of my stack of shirts. I stripped and put it on turning back and catching Rain on Paul's computer screen smiling and writing back busily.

There was a leg poking out of Jonah's bunk and Aaron's bunk was flashing as he watched some action movie. I walked out into the front lounge and saw the coffee brewing. I poured myself a mug seeing Johnny pouring over his bent folded copy of Charles Bukowski' "Ham on Rye." We were parked and looking out at a brick wall and a sidewalk. The scenery of where-ever we were was astonishing.

Brick to the right and an empty gas station to the left. What a beautiful city. They've outdone themselves when it comes to the upkeep of it. But the kids were all the same. They all came out every date and show and sang along and asked for hugs and pictures and autographs. "I loved this record." and "You saved my life." I didn't feel like talking much to people anymore. I didn't feel like having the same conversation day in and day out.

Johnny looked up. "You depressed?" He asked.

I looked at him. "Nope," I said.

He looked at me and waited. I didn't say anything. "Write it out, dude," He said. That's all everyone said. They all were secretly planning and intervention. I didn't have anything to write. I didn't need to write anything. I just needed to write ten songs for a record we needed badly.

I don't think the guys knew it but they were all pushing me to write. I haven't written anything good since the last B-side of our record which is probably the emo-ist song ever to be recorded and put out. It was about giving up on your dreams.

This was my dream. Sleeping in a bunk and playing music every day, that used to be a dream. It's my life now. But I figured out I had a better dream that was easier to reach but just slipped away. That's what the song is about. The hundred kids for every fifty shows we have, they all tell me that song helped them move on from something- be it a death, a break-up, a friend, anything- but I just smile and try not to say I wish it did the same for me.

* * *

I step off of the bus and all of a sudden I see a kid stop dead in his tracks. He stares at me. Another day in my shoes is starting up. I look over at him and force a smile. "Hi?" I say.

"Ohshit,fuckfuckfuck," Comes out in a mumble from his mouth he walks up to me. "I... oh my god."

I smile a little, or try to. "Nice to meet you too," I say holding my hand out for him to shake.

"I'm so sorry dude," He said. "I just..." He looks at me like I'm something else. I'm just a guy. I can't even write a decent song to save my life. "You're my hero. I listen to your records every day. I fucking love you guys."

"Thank you," He shakes my hand too long but they usually do. "I have to get into the venue, but it was nice meeting you."

He stares at me. "No, thank you," He said.

"What's your name?" I asked looking at him. He reminded me a lot of myself in high school.

"Brad," He says.

"Well, Brad," I said. "I guess I'll see you later tonight."

"I wouldn't miss this show for anything." He said. Then he pauses. "Why aren't you guys headlining?"

I let out a sigh. "Owen's ego," I said.

He pauses and looks over at Owen's band's bus. "Those guys are complete shit, I don't know anyone whose going to see them." He says.

I raise my eyebrows up and down. "They're even worse when you get to know them," I said. I probably shouldn't have said that because that'd jump up on a message board but Owen doesn't know his ass from his elbow. He'd think it was some Red Letter Day-hater saying that to get us kicked off of the tour.

Brad laughs a little. "Thank you so much for talking to me," He says.

I smile a little. "You're welcome," I say. "See you around."

"Bye," He says.

I walk into the venue and feel bad. Kids like Brad always remind me of myself in high school. I try to block it out sometimes- high school and shit- but it never stays away too long. I walk into the venue and am late for soundcheck. I don't get yelled at because Paul already tested my mic and everything.

We make eye contact and we do a quick song to check out the sound and everything. But Owen and his band will do five or three songs. I just go sit in the dressing room and drink a little while answering a few interviews over e-mail.

This is my life now. And I regret every minute that led me to be this unhappy.