Three Reasons To Die || A.W.G

|| Job Hunting Blues and Five Minute Friends ||

Tonight, I need you to stay - The Run and Go - twenty one pilots

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There always has been something so psychotically and deplorably addicting about cutting perfected slits into the discoloured tone of my skin. And no part of it proved to be a facile chore to deal with; a mind to tame with broken string that's been thrown at me by everyone who claimed to help me, and when I ask I get more broken string thrown at me. And as if the entrails of my brain's psychotic interior weren't enough, I deal with actions that cannot handle their own consequences and instead lug them onto my own frail shoulders.

"Holy shit, Liz" The overly-ecstatic tone gave away the fact that it was Jet yelling for me; whom I dreadfully hoped to lose in the crowd, not as an action of hatred but rather, annoyance. I strode twice the speed of his foot-dragging pace along the dry grounds that vibrated with the sound of whatever band took the stage. The sun seared through the material of my thinnest long sleeve; which was clumsily frayed at the cuffs which were stained in permanent marker in the form of my initials, the thick fabric of the shirt proved to be the purpose for the sweat slicking my arms and neck."Liz! That was As It Is, we basically brushed shoulders with them, Liz!" I pretend to be oblivious to his too-loudly whispered exclamation that even over-powered the rumble of guitars and drums, I didn't take much of a fancy to attending the wretched tour, especially while being on a mission- set by Jet of course- to find a job in the industry of music.

Not that I didn't hold a strong desire or passion for it, but the noise and the heat and the sharp gravel on the ground squeezing into the pin-sized holes in my navy vans and causing dents into my feet wasn't exactly great."For God's sake, Liz would you slow down" Jet then jogged up beside me, clawing back his stereotypically Irish red hair with cadaverous, tanned fingers. He grins maliciously and bumps his shoulder into my cheekbone, seeing as I was almost an entire foot shorter than him."Quit it asshole" With a mildly harsh tone, I reflected his smile, mine being far less enthusiastic and my eyes focusing instead on the wad of paper in my hands, my own scrawled script filled in details of a scrappy CV on paper which I stained with black coffee two mornings ago. Jet's hazel eyes followed my anxious stare and his brows dipped in a frown at the faded brown stains, but the grimace slid off his face as easily as it settled as the front man of Pierce The Veil strode past us with a grin, a load of sweat on his forehead and a snapback wedged on backwards on his head. Jet gasped and stumbled his way muttering something along the lines of a selfie and Instagram.Automatically I was left alone, and the idea scared me to my wits 'till my ankles shook in my too-big socks which I may have borrowed last minute since my own Christmas special's were nowhere to be found.

In the plight of being ultimately lonely and alone and incapable of not-awkward social interactions I stood suddenly still, shuffling instead of taking long strides because being noticed now was something that terrified me. Instead I silently appreciate a girl that zooms past with bright blue hair and about five piercings in her face which also was slicked in glimmering sweat; her look was absolutely pulled off with a flick of winged liner at each corner of her eyes. My eyes hunted for managers or people which seemed professional enough to take forms from a mildly professional photographer like myself, and maybe I wouldn't land the job as a bands photographer but maybe I could earn something to fund my rent and taxes. Working down at the local bookstore didn't exactly earn me enough for a living and neither did my night shifts at the fast food place five blocks away from Jet and I's crappy apartment.

"Um, hey, are you lost?" I wouldn't have known that I was being addressed if this girl with dirty blonde hair scraped in sloppy bun atop her head and the tattoos that came with last weeks Kerrang staining her neck and shoulder blades, didn't look me straight in my eyes which underneath them, held the consequences of lonely and insomniac, bloody nights.I adjusted the strap of the camera that hung around my neck and hit just above my belly button. I cleared my throat too, in case my voice didn't sound.