I’m Bryan Adams

*Hello. Damien here. My Story below contains some dialogue and imagery that some people may find disturbing or upsetting. I wouldn’t - as a reader. But that’s just me… But I understand if anybody does. Thank you*

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I’m Bryan Adams.

I'm gonna run to you.

I know that when you look at me

There’s so much that you just don’t see.

But wait. Is that my fault? That you don’t see me? Is it my fault that you don’t understand me? Or is that the role I’ve unwittingly cast myself in? Made myself a martyr. Am I secretly wanting to be a slave to your temperament? Your emotional tics and habits? Your caprices? Do I long to be a victim of your vagaries? 

Victim. 

Such an evocative word. A word drenched in submission. Defeat. Of being bested. Being destroyed. 

If I'm Bryan Adams, ready any moment to run to you, will you reciprocate? Will you in return submit to me? Bend to my will? Or, as I predict you will, turn tail and run? Make for the hills? 

Truthfully, I understand - if you run, I do. The fight or flight response, it’s innate and strong. It runs through us all, like letters through sticks of seaside rock. But my choice isn't flight, I promise you that. I'll vow right now to fight. I permit you to run, yes of course I do. I don't forbid it. I'll give you a chance. Please. Please run. I do so love the chase. But I promise you this, an oath I'd make on my life. A fight would definitely ensue. I'd fight for you. I'd do anything for you. Just ask.

I’m Bryan Adams

And Each day, each day I play the role 

Of someone always in control. 

But this role, this play, this charade of mine is only that - a charade. A façade. And I don't wish this to sound like a threat I really don’t, but when the play has ended, and the final curtain draws closed on the show, you will truly, truly see me. You'll see me for who I am. For what I am. And that will be a day that will be remembered. It will live in infamy. INFAMY! INFAMY! THEY'VE ALL GOT IT IN FOR ME!

And they have. I know it. But they don't know I know it. They think me ignorant. Unremarkable. Forgettable. Please be honest with me now because I'm really not sure, do you think me ignorant? You ignore me yes, but do you think I am ignorant? An ignoramus? An ass? Honesty is all I want now.

All I ever want from you is honesty. Honesty about how you think of me. Or even if you think of me. So, I'll ask you now: do you think of me? Do you get me? See me? But, if I'm asking you to be honest with me, I should at least return the favour - be honest with you. I owe you that after all we've been through. All that I've been through. 

I know you don't see me. But I see you. 

I watch you. I'm watching you. This very moment I’m watching you. But you're oblivious to me watching you. Sat. Laughing. Relaxing. Conversing. Friends basking in your balmy warmth and radiance. 

I don't begrudge them that I really don't. I'd be there too, doing the very same if I were them. But I’m not them. And I don’t deserve it. So for now this will satisfy me. This will pacify me. It will quieten the beast so to speak. Such is the power you have over me. 

So please, be flattered. Please be grateful. Appreciate that I'm here for you. But you aren't. Be honest, you aren't are you? Grateful I mean? Well. Are you? 

No. 

No you're not. 

You're not grateful. You're not satisfied. Never ever fucking satisfied… With my actions. Or my devotion, or indeed my notions. Oh yes, I have notions. I have notions alright. 

Inclinations. 

Needs. 

I need you here

I need you here to wipe away my tears. 

I have to cling to the hope that one day you really will wipe away my tears. Tend to me. Pamper me. Pander to me. I make a vow, right here, right now, so help me god I tell you this truthfully: one of these days soon, I will tend to you. And then you’ll see me. You'll see me like I see you now - drinking that over-priced drink. Extra this, steamed that, half-fat, non-dairy, non-scary, fucking NONSENSE! No sense. Absolutely, No. Sense. Whatsoever... That I'm here. 

Watching. 

Judging. 

I'm the judge. I bestow judgement down upon you. Will you pass, or will I mark you up a fail? 

A pass today I think. Benevolence. Congratulations! You've made the grade! Cut the mustard. But who knows? Maybe one day that magical green tick will transform, deform, be replaced by a big fat red cross. And then what? What becomes of the cross? Ooooo, let me think... Give me a moment to ponder that one... Should I ask our lovely audience? No. No need. Let me fill you in (please let me fill you in)... We are crucified. We are crucified on the cross. Tortured. 

Executed.

But, hold up, let's just wait one hot second. Let's not get ahead of ourselves here. There's no telling that this will happen at all. It can all be avoided quite easily. Just, humour me. Please just humour me! Go along with me and placate me. Even shake me or break me. But just don't disregard me. Don't underestimate me, whatever you do.

Oh my, there I go. Big mouth strikes again. Sounding as if I'm issuing a warning. An ultimatum. Moi, an ultimatum? As if. AS. IF! As if I would. Do you THINK I would? Is that what you think? Is that REALLY what you think of me? Is it? 

Well… IS IT? 

How dare you. How fucking DARE you! 

I see you! They don’t. But I do. I. See. You. YOU. The inner you. The you that you're not even aware of. Oblivious to. You seem to all those who know you - you seem so very confident. Assured. Sure of yourself. But I know. I really know you. The doubt. The insecurity. A lack of feeling secure. And that's something we all need isn’t it? Security. To be secure?

I'll secure you. I'll keep you secured. Locked up. Imprisoned. Shackled. Metaphorically speaking of course. Why of course! I'm not a monster! 

Wat, No. Please…

You don’t think? 

You don’t think that…? 

YOU DON’T THINK THAT! 

There you go again! Misreading my intentions. Getting the wrong end of the stick. 

Silly you. 

Silly, silly you. 

Silly stupid you. 

Brainless, witless, silly, simple-fucking-minded moronic you! 

You total, fucking, IDIOT! 

Look what you did!

Oh no, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry! I got carried away there didn’t I? 

Please please pleeeeease let me take it back. It's just that, when I get carried away like that, I can't... I seem to... It all just gets a little... 

Oh no. 

No no no no NOOOO! What have I done? What have I done to you Amie? 

Oh Amie. 

AMIE!

What can I do? I didn’t mean it! I didn’t mean to…

You did it. 

Brought it on yourself. 

You made me do it Aimie. 

How can I take it back? 

I can't. I can't take it back. It’s impossible. 

I've always known it would end like this. That I’d get carried away like that. 

I'm so sorry Amie. For getting so carried away. I'll carry you away. Take you away from all this... 

I KNOW A PLACE! I know the perfect spot. Just humour me a little longer Aimie, please. It will be worth it. I promise.

Here we are Amie.

Now, isn't that better? 

Isn't it beautiful here? I think you'll be happy here. No. We'll be happy here. 

Laying in this way. Both of us forever. 

Together. 

For all time. 

Endlessly together. Then I’ll own you. And you, me. 

So please Amie, won't you hold me in your arms

And keep me safe from harm?

But her love is cold

I Wouldn't hurt her if she didn't know.

'Cause when it gets too much

I need to feel her touch

When I was Bryan Adams. 

I told you I would run to you. 

THE.

END.