II - Nothing Feels Good

The lights went out and we walked out on stage. I didn't wait to go last, I didn't want to. I never did. I wasn't any better than the rest of them. They were all better musicians than me. The lights came on when Paul started playing the opening riff to a song I've sung a million times. I walked over ot the microphone and picked it up hoisting it up into the air and the crowd suddenly answered. In a flash everything got loud and fast.

The crowd answered me as I sang the last good song I wrote with Paul. It was written almost two years ago. And don't get me wrong, this song means so much to me but it isn't the same. People always telling me about their interpretations of it, I don't go around parading it's about some girl I'm trying to forget, but I begin to second guess every word written to it.

I stopped and there was one voice in my head singing the words for me. It was the crowd all belting out that one bridge that took me ten minutes to write. This was once a thrill to this. An excitement an adrenaline rush but here I was singing the same songs and not remembering why I was. I wrote this line to mean something, but it didn't mean anything anymore. And I started singing again becoming a machine. My heart the push-play and my mouth the speakers filled with static. The noise in the background were four of my closest friends and here I was holding them back.

There is one reason why I never quit the band. They always make me play an acoustic song. Paul knows it's slowly killing me but I couldn't bring myself to pop pain-killers or drugs worth dying for. They give me a guitar and I walk out to the middle of the stage to the crowd screaming and yelling.

"Okay, this is a slow one," I said looking at everyone. "I think you guys all know it, but if you don't... well I guess someone's gotta' be thinking you should... so here goes..." I started playing slowly. I find the dot and watch it carefully as I set up my fingers. I close my eyes and I see her standing there like she used to. I start playing and it all starts to blur. I sing to her, say I'm sorry, write it out and play it with my everything. I feel myself yelling- not at her- at myself. This is my zen. This is my moment where I but my flesh off and stand naked in front of a million faces and Brad of people I don't remember to have met if I have.

This is when I kill cells somewhere... I slowly eat myself alive from the inside. And like any drug it feels fucking good. It feels fucking amazing. The peak of this high is the chorus that comes in last like my favorite Saves the Day song and I sing it until I'm done. I could sing it a million times but I limit myself to when I feel sweat coating my body worse than before and everyone is screaming with me. It feels fucking fantastic.

I break and step away and walk quickly to the side ofd the stage giving off my guitar to someone else and in an instant I pretend it never happened. I never sang those words. I never saw her in my head staring at me or looking at me or studying me. Nobody notices- or they just ignore it- the crowd is still yelling and I go out and play one last song. People scream and go crazy. A sea of hands reach out ready to snatch my up but I stay on stage and sing and surrender and feel my skin tighten and the sweat clinging. My high is over. I have to let the drug wear off into a steady beating pain under my skin somewhere.

The crowd doesn't want us to go. They literally chant in unison for an encore but we have fifty minutes out of forty five to play and the crew even looks dissappointed when we stalk off and leave. We go take showers and we go on our buses and pretend the crowd isn't emptying out of the venue to try and beat us to the bus.

I miss the gaddamn van sometimes. Nobody knew it was our van and we usually could hide in the venue longer and shower and shit or sneak off to a hotel but we have the bus. A house on wheels. And as glamorous as it looks it gets old. I shower in the venue and pull on a change of clothes. My hair is still wet so I press a towel to it. My shoes are ratty and falling apart but I can't chance getting fungus on my feet or disease. I keep them on and walk into the hall with a towel around my neck.

I walk over towards the buses where there's a security guard grunting and hissing. I think I'm just seeing things. Skhizophrenia is finally setting in. I'm seeing fucking mirages like Jonah does when he's high. I stop and look past the guard.

Then in three seconds I hear Owen confirm it. "Lise," He says. This is Lise? This is the fucking Lise he told me about on the summer tour? The girl he says he fucks day-in-and-day-out. I pictured a whore or someone like Sarah but no. Lise. Lise. Lise. "She's with me."

The security guard steps out of the way. And suddenly I see her face drain of any meaning. She stares at me. I am staring at my death. I'm staring at a fucking ghost. I walk past them as Owen clears in and presses his hands all over her hips. "Oh, Ben!" He says. "Fuck, you never met Lise, huh?"

I turn around still walking. "Nope," I say. I look at her still walking backwards."Nice-to-meet-you." I turn and keep walking. I get on the bus and find Paul walking around in basketball shorts with his computer under his arm. He lives on that thing. I swear. Wait until we hit the other coast and he wakes up at certain times to talk to Rainie.

"What's up with you?" He asks.

Paul's the only one I'd tell this to. I'm fucking pissed. I point out towards the building. "Owen's fucking Elisa." I say.

"What?" He asks. I've never said her name outloud. It rolls off of my tongue like the curse of a lord. It's the worst swear possible.

"She's in the fucking building." I said. "He's fucking sleeping with her."

Paul freezes and puts down his computer. "You okay?" He asks.

"No," I say walking over to the fridge. "I'm not fucking okay!" I'm yelling at him. Why the fuck am I so pissed? "She's fucking in there. She fucking saw me. She's going to fucking-"

"Calm down," He said.

"I can't fucking calm down!" I said loudly. Then Johnny comes on the bus.

"What?" He says. "Did they find the bodies or something?" Paul doesn't even look at him. He just studies me as I pace. I get out a bottle of Jack Daniel's and down it.

"When's bus call?" I asked softening my tone a little.

"Two," Johnny says. "Owen fucked around with it."

I put the Jack Daniel's down. "I'm not staying," I say. "I'm going to walk around."

They don't follow me. You should never follow me. I am the worst person to ever go on a walk when I'm pissed. I just remember what buildings I see. I walk quickly. I check my phone. It's nine thirty. I walk two hours and fifteen minutes in one direction and turn around and come back. I keep walking. I want to punch fucking brick walls.

I don't know why. We didn't fight to break up. In fact it's my fault we even did. It just sucks. I feel like a teenager again. I stop eventually in the park and sit down against a tree. I don't care if I'm sitting on piss or shit or disease. I just breath in and out.

That's what it's like when you see that one person. The person that fucked you up and can never forget. For me she was the first girl I ever loved. She was my high school sweetheart and the reason I got through high school period. And somehow I ended up alone. I ended up sitting here under a fucking tree potentially catching disease and more problems, but I'm sitting here because I was stupid.

I'm sitting here because I think about her every day. I picture us meeting up again and she'll be the same. She'll still laugh the same and love Sunday Drive and drink coffee with so much coffee it gives you cavaties with every sip. The same girl who knows all the words to "Lisa's Birthday Tape" and can recite them with a straight face unless you make eye contact with her. I picture myself marrying her and having kids. I don't do that intentionally. When I'm drunk or don't care what I'm thinking I stop myself.

I just cut myself whenever I do. I don't do creepy things like name them and decide what they're be when they grow up- I mean the kids I mean- because I know we'll never even talk again. Owen's going to fuck her over and she'll be gone. I try not to picture him after the show pressing his hands against her and touching her.

I think it's the Jack Daniel's but I want to fucking die.

You don't know what it's like when the person who fucked you up comes back. I realize I wan't really yelling at Paul, I just assume I was. I was just talking and freaking out like a two-year-old. I'll apologize eventually as soon as I forget.

I just wish I got a better look at her to see how things have changed.