Solitude never left

The tour bus would always feel like a home away from home for Mikey. Although he hated making anywhere feel comfortable enough to settle down in, he couldn’t help but turn the rectangular space into a half assed man cave on wheels. It was a bond he cultivated overtime, giving him the comfort to lean in further than he had expected. The space's interior was naturally dark, so his first instinct was to string a series of LED lights across the velveted ceiling. They would light up the whole space giving his eyes something pretty to gloss over. In reality, his vision led him to replace the bus bulbs with colored ones, which ultimately gave the same feel his mind had brought to life in the first place. Anyone he felt was privileged enough to enter, would find the light settings were permanently stuck on lavender and blue. Now Mikey knew that if he’d tried hard enough, the remote would jump out at him and he’d be able to use it again. But abandoning searches for lost items is what he did best. 

It was easy to find CD’s, mostly from the mid 90’s, old backstage passes, and tickets, that made themselves comfortable in dingy boxes stuffed in the overhead bins. Crushed twinkie wrappers left a trail that continued the journey towards the back of the bus. It was evidence of an obsession he took pride in advertising, hence the souvenirs. A poster from his first tour was taped neatly in the section of the ceiling that lay across the area of his pullout bed. With a microphone in hand, guitar flung across his back, and green stage lights that almost seemed to give him a halo, the poster had the power to spring a smile across his face. Quickly scanning the rest of the bus, one would find a stack of sci-fi books, packaged ramen and a singular caddy. The caddy was practically overflowing with cherished personal care items he’d received from fans. It was sometime a few months ago when he mentioned that hygiene was a top priority of his. With that said, in no more than what had seemed like seconds, products quickly poured in from all around the country in hopes of getting a chance to be used. It was the first time he felt like inanimate objects wanted to see him more than people did. Stardom wasn’t at all what he’d thought it’d be, but every time he felt shocked by the continually received kindness, mother’s reminder of his magical presence fluttered through his mind. The second to last concert of the tour had just ended with confetti, screams and flashlights that danced like stars in the night sky. Not that he was surprised by this, but dragging his body up the stairs and toward the pullout bed was nothing short of a marathon. He’d managed to drop baby, his guitar, off in its designated corner and kicked off his staple spiked leather black boots before realizing he had no energy left to do anything. He wanted to post a picture of a Rick and Morty guitar pick that a fan beautifully hand painted, but that mini adventure would have to wait. 

Mikey didn’t need to think in this space. It didn’t require him to speak in turn, pose for pictures or even remember who he was to people. But being outside didn’t cause him to become a different person, it only reminded him that he wasn’t the only one. And once his cheek made contact with the silk pillowcase that lay half off the bed, his eye lids gracefully closed. 

A familiar tune was playing in the distance. He couldn't put his finger on it, but soon he’d realize it was his manager calling. He let it ring. Then the tune started back up again and the peace that sleep finally brought to his soul was now robbed. Instantly, Mikey’s heart felt like it was aching. Slowly sitting up on the bed, throwing his legs off the side and running his course, dry hand through his hair is all his body allowed itself to do. Everything his manager just revealed was ping ponging back and forth, leaving each thought to echo off the walls of his comfort space. Mikey was mad, or maybe even sad. He hadn’t remembered the last time he allowed his body to get furious so maybe that’s what this was. Glancing around felt like being back on stage again. Lights were aiming at his face, people were talking in his ears and he no longer could recognize his home. Looking at his phone sprawled into uneven shards a foot away was the mental image that made him realize he’d thrown it. Pleasantly enough, the window hadn’t broken when he did, and a smile returned to his face. The time Mikey allotted himself to be upset had passed and now was time to play catch up with “my manager’s plan to ruin my life indefinitely”. Like muscle memory though, his hand lifted up to trail the soft velveted ceiling as his feet carried him to the driver's seat of their bus. It wasn’t his anymore, it was theirs. A Jonathan Boodam that would soon evade his space like a pesky virus. So now, he was practicing how to say “their” instead of “my”. Mikey hated the five letter word now. That traitor manager of his couldn’t have known Mikey would have a problem with this though. In fact, as Mikey recalled, he’d never actually told anyone before how much he liked to be alone. It probably wasn’t something a person could even guess seeing as he picked one of the most interpersonal jobs a person could have. 

But Jonathan Boodam wasn’t so bad. In fact, Jonathan Boodam reminded Mikey why he could get on stage and sing comfortably in a venue for thousands of people. Why he could get off of it and hold a conversation with literally anyone. It’s because being outside and being on stage reminded him he was alone. The lights, cheers and chatting voices didn't take that away. On stage he let go and it was the same feeling he got when he let go in their bus. Whether it be one person or five million people around him, Mikey could recognize himself and that’s what gave him comfort. It wasn’t the lack of people that did. The space’s interior wasn’t lavender and blue anymore, it was a warm orange. Jonathan Boodam had a knack for incessantly searching for lost items until they were found. Twinkie wrappers filled a glass jar and Mikey's poster was still taped neatly above his bed. Toy race cars became mini landmines to avoid, mystery books lay on a second pullout bed and some more dingy boxes found their way into the overhead bins. Next to his caddy lay a second one, and that too, was full to the top of personal care items. Mikey was still alone and he loved it.