TW// strong language
And this time, I mean it.
She fucked me once, fucked me twice, and now all she has left me with is her stupid heart-shaped box filled with all the lighters she stole from music producers, guitarists, groupies, junkies, models, and just people that we encountered in the avalanche of our existence. If I see a guy or a chick smelling of weed and giving me advice on how I am being controlled by my ego I will scream so hard that I will no longer have a voice, and a career along with it. Maybe that is for the best, after all, I lost the other band member. I’m jealous of Madeline sometimes because deep down I know fans love her more. The letters she gets are far superior to the ones I get, I mean, she has stalkers for God’s sake. All I get is used condoms that made me puke so hard once that I didn’t touch molly for a week.
Utopia Beats—how I curse your existence. If it wasn’t for you, I would’ve never met cursed little Maddy who fucked my future so hard that now all I wish for is to throw all her precious lighter collection in the fire, and myself with it. Her tiny fingers that managed to produce hit riffs on the guitar were browsing through records, and as you can guess, slacking off instead of working, because let’s face it, when are artists actually working? All they do is dream and create, actually create things that are more meaningful than this stupid society will ever be able to produce. I say they because I never considered myself an artist. Yes, I have a decent voice and my lyrics are not that bad, I mean a girl tattooed my signature on her butt once, so that must count for something. Look, mom, I’m doing art! Dumbass.
Back to Maddy though; how dare she come with her perfect green eyes and absolute talent into my life? How dare she say I am the most intelligent and deep person she has ever met? How dare she set the bar so high that now any other interaction leaves me empty and dreading my existence until she is around again? I became a fucking addict because of her soft hair that somehow never smells bad. You don’t believe me? She smells like bananas. Don’t laugh, you idiot! Maddy is a goddess! No, God, how can I say that… She is the most horrible person anyone can ever encounter because one day she steps in and decides, Hey, Angie, we don’t vibe anymore. I see that you are unhappy because we have always been connected and I know that for sure because I am too. And I know we talked about this several times, remember? How we said to never make shallow art, to only make things that count, that shake our cores, but this? This is pure apathy. I hate myself for being like this and I… Angie, I hate you too. I… and she started crying like a pathetic fuck and I crawled to her ankles and kissed her knees like an even bigger pathetic fuck, because I love her so much and I was also high out of my mind. But that’s beside the point because she wanted to break the band up; and me, without the band, without her I am the biggest nothing this planet has ever seen.
I want to crawl back into my mother’s womb when I was close to God. Because that, and being with Maddy were the only things that made me feel that way. And now she is gone. Except for this heart-shaped box that she probably forgot in the corner of the dresser.
What is this?
Oh, the lid is fucking cracked.
Just like Maddy is, just like I am, because she could never take care of anything. God… what am I talking about? She was the most caring person in the world. And I lost her… because sometimes we lose things and they never come back and all we have left is just an empty space that will never be filled again because nothing else fits into that space where they fitted like a perfect puzzle piece.
I just took a bath, I calmed down a bit.
We were making out on a Persian carpet once, one that was worth a fortune but ended up with cigarette wholes and dried puke. We just wrote ‘The unperfect paradise’ and a dirty guitar was beaming out of the speakers; we weren’t paying attention because our connection was at its deepest. I heard some people never experience this in a lifetime and I pity them, but I think I actually envy them on second thought. Because when that person is gone, you can bet you will feel like human garbage. But when that person is… you can bet you will understand why people believe in higher powers. Because what greater gift than feeling connected with someone, and I mean, truly feeling like you sink into another person on such a metaphysical level that Buddha himself shakes in his boots. As if Buddha is wearing boots, but that’s a talk for another day… like a day when I’m drunk, or high, or NOT FUCKING HEARTBROKEN.
Sorry for screaming.
God, I miss her so much.
‘The unperfect paradise’ was an album we wrote together after we almost had a car crash. At that point, we realized how easily we can no longer exist. And life is so frail yet so precious that makes the moments of wishing for death seem a parody. Wait… you might be confused if you don’t have depression. Well, yes, as short as this life is, some people still wish to die before their life officially ends. But not Maddy, though. She always loved life, even when she didn’t. I speak of her as if she is dead because in a way, in my heart she is. The story of our band breaking up didn’t get into the public yet, but I know it will because she told Rupert, our manager, and she vanished, just fucking vanished, and left me behind.
I would leave myself behind too.
God… have I told you that I miss her? I think I did.
Are you waiting for a happy ending? Of her returning and confessing how much she loves me, and we kiss, fulfilling the perfect lesbian fantasy? Well, fuck off, because it won’t happen. I’ll go grab a bottle of vodka.