Fire And Water
A bit traumatized by what happened with Gaspard, I took a bus back home from Austin after spending about a week there. When I returned, my parents didn’t ask too many questions. They said they were worried about me, but atmosphere quickly reverted back to one of disconnectedness.
There were only a few months left of high school, and I had a lot of trouble focusing on schoolwork. I was in a state of constant depression and couldn’t seem to pull myself out of it. I didn’t have any close friends at school, whereas everyone else had been through so much together by the time senior year came around. I had no lasting bonds to show for my past up to that point, and the future was beckoning me to experience a lot more pain and sadness. The world was a foreign place that I couldn’t begin to understand, and I was completely aware of my ignorance.
Grades weren’t even a blip on the radar of my mind, which was clouded and filled with the only person that mattered — Nell. Occasionally, I’d feel suicidal again for a few seconds before again realizing that wouldn’t bring me any closer to her. As a result, I stopped caring about classes, only showing up because I had nowhere better to be. Often I’d wake up after 11 AM after being kept up at night by thoughts of Nell.
Before I could decide whether trying to graduate was worth it or not, I had to get past “battle of the bands.” A few different bands would play on stage for an audience, and a winner would be decided by judges. Before this, I had some experience playing on stage in various ways. I played a Zeppelin song on an acoustic guitar at a summer music program with another singer; an Elton John tune on the piano with a saxophone player for an assembly; “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” on an electric guitar with a keyboardist at an assembly; AC/DC songs with a bass player and drummer; and most recently the blues in Austin with a various players and bands. I had a lot of pride in my abilities.
I quickly found a bassist and drummer to back me up. However, the songs weren’t the easiest to play — Jimi Hendrix and Stevie Ray Vaughan songs — and we had maybe one or two short rehearsals to try to get it down.
When the time came for the actual show, most of the set we played was good. Other times though, we couldn’t stay together or got lost in the song. Nell was watching me. This was my time to shine and be a boss. She could finally see me in my element. I tried to channel all the nervous energy in my body to my playing. All I wanted to do was show off, but it was clear to everyone that there wasn’t much chemistry between me and my band. An established high school punk band played last. A group of their teen fans scampered up to dance to the music, and soon a small crowd was bobbing up and down in front of the stage.
My old crush Jane got up to present the winner. She opened an envelope and pulled out a slip of paper. Like on an award show on television, she announced that the winner was “obviously” the punk band. When that news broke, everyone cheered. I clapped too, but I wasn’t even present in my own body. I was devastated by the decisions of a few judges and how they seemed to declare that I wasn’t as good as I thought I was.
Having Nell there to bear witness to my lowest moment seemed to make it that much worse. I couldn’t even face her to see her reaction. I lost the last shred of anything valuable in my life. I went straight home. The entire drive I was clutching my chest, which was dull from beating so hard and made breathing difficult. I was overcome with sadness and adrenaline. It took everything I had not to veer off of a bridge or just close my eyes on the highway. “With one stray thought, I could very easily drive through the railings and off of this bridge,” I brooded.
However, every time I did close my eyes, I saw Nell. I couldn’t face her even in my own thoughts, yet I couldn’t face the real world either. I was trying to run away from both of those things with nowhere to run to, and I ended up only going in circles.
April 7, 2008
I’m back home. I’ve been here for a week, and already I remember why I left in the first place. I started talking to mother. Only a while longer and I’ll be done with it.
Last week was battle of the bands, after no less than 3 days for us to learn the songs. My playing was primitive and sloppy, but I played with more feeling than I ever had before. It was almost like a movie. Nell was in the audience, and after I finished I felt a terrible feeling of empty sadness and loneliness. The news that the winner was “obviously” not me was the catalyst for me to go on a suicidal teeter-totter while driving home.
That day Dr. Barnes informed me of my erratic attendance and threatened to kick me out. So I left a shit-hole to come to a hellhole.
My feelings for Nell have resurfaced with more fire than ever. It’s like as soon as I drag them under the water, they pop back up like a balloon, and all the hopelessness and insatiable desires that I’ve tried to suffocate burst back out. The physical disappointments of the world of Austin can’t even begin to compare to the endless emotional torture that she puts me through. How easy it would have been to just drive off that bridge!
So is it God who constantly denies me a shred of happiness? He seems to be having a good laugh nearly killing me. But I can’t help but think that I asked for this. I want to be the best blues player, and now I have shit to sing about. I just hope it doesn’t go as far as death. Not too soon anyway…
Actually, the thing I need most right now is for someone to hold me. Preferably someone who doesn’t have testicles.