Last Fall

I Lost Her

A/N: I challenge anyone to point out the L, R song I reference in the closing of this chapter.

Vans Warped Tour, Summer 2015

"Can you tell us your name and what you do in the band?"

"I'm Lynn and I sing and play guitar." I was on autopilot by now. Interviews with the boys where they'd ask us fun questions had become just me, hours of press and the same recycled shit over and over and over. It's not that I wasn't grateful for the exposure, each different interview might reach someone new who hadn't heard of us before, but it just got a bit repetitive and reminded me too much of the get to know you basics games they'd make us play at the beginning of a brand new school year.

"You have an album out called white noise" no shit "tell me a little bit about it." Well if you insist unenthusiastic sue. Cue vague explanation about the intangible while replacing relationship issues with metaphorical ghosts to avoid invasive questioning about my personal life.

"How's tour going?"

I haven't slept in two days, haven't showered in four, haven't used a real toilet in six, my arms are so sunburnt I look like a damn farmer, I've sweat off three pounds and I'm losing my voice, but hey atleast the food's not subpar. "It's been awesome."

"Best part?"

"Definitely the catering."

"Any plans for after tour is over?" Yes, but I can't tell you. Is this interview over yet?

"Exciting things are lined up for the remainder of this year, but no announcements have been made yet, so my lips are sealed."

"There's a rumor going around that you're working on new music. Can you give us any hints?" No bitch, I can't, you aren't special.

"Obviously the focus right now is still on white noise, but I'm always working, always writing, always scheming, so you never know. Keep an eye out for new visual material."

And just like that, all fake smiles and pathetically forced laughter through awkward silences, it's over and I've charmed someone else. I'm a happy go lucky little human bean aren't I?

My chest heaves as the screams reverberate throughout the amphitheatre. "Who's house is it!?" I grin at the small sea of kids all yelling back at me. It's amazing how they know the question I'm going to ask before I ask it. Oh YouTube.

It was raining, clouds covering the mid afternoon sun and dimming the sky, adding to the dreary atmosphere. I feel the electric pulse and slam forward, then yanking back equally as violently, whipping my mane in time with the boys, but it was an otherwise off day. I fumbled with my words so last to chance to jump, jump, jump sounded something more like "lasta chancta jump jum ju" not on tempo. I fucked up the chord progression of the bridge in fire and threw off the tonality in holy because I just couldn't get in the pocket. The last thing I wanted to do was go to a signing and face fans after they watched me look like an uncoordinated idiot (more so than usual). What I wanted right now I couldn't have.

I wanted to go back to my honeymoon year. When the band was taking off and every trivial setback didn't matter because we were playing bigger venues and hanging out with fans, yes fans!, at our merch table after shows. It was crazy that people wanted to take pictures with us and have us sign stuff and just hang out with us for even a few minutes. It's still crazy, but at some point the vanity wears off and although you feel like an asshole for it, you become desensitized to such an extent that you can't bring yourself to care quite like they do. You can't match that wonder anymore. It's not that I didn't care about the fans, I never stopped caring, I just lost myself in their idea of me. Lynn Gunn, the rockstar with a heart of gold, only that shade of gold faded and over the next two years that fire that fueled me dwindled until the embers burned out.