Give Me A Reason | ✔️

ii. Give me a reason for disaster

"What?" Neil whispers, all his anger gone.

"You heard me." I tell him, not able to meet his eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me, or any of us about this sooner?" Neil asks.

I shrug. "You all seemed so excited about the new album. I didn't want to put a damper on everyone's spirits."

"Adam-" he says, but I cut him off.

"Save it, Neil." He looks hurt. "I don't need your pity."

"Adam," he tries again. "We're your friends, man. You should have told us this."

"How?" I say, incredulous. "How could I have told you that Naomi gave me a divorce? Or that I feel like someone fake?" Or about how much I wish I'd never written Transit of Venus? I add silently.

"Somehow!" Neil says forcefully. I recoil a bit. "We're here to help you out, Adam. Don't be a stubborn mule!"

"Maybe I am one!" Wonderful anger fills my veins, boiling my blood and making me feel alive. "Maybe I just wanted to think about you all and keep my problems aside for a while!"

"Isn't that what led to you ODing in the first place?" Neil shoots back. I flinch. He did not just say that.

Neil seems to have realized his mistake and opens his mouth to make an apology. I blink away unshed tears. "You're right, Neil. I am stubborn, and my stubbornness has led us to a lot of problems. Maybe I should quit the band!"

"Adam-"

"You were right, Sanderson. You always were." I storm off, leaving Neil alone in the room.

~*~

Since I'd put it out in the open, the idea of leaving the band is becoming more and more appealing.

Yes, I've been with them for over twenty years; yes, I've made five albums with them; but this pressure is too much too take.

I did not like our newest album at all. If I didn't like it, how would I connect with the crowd who did? And my health isn't helping matters; all the stress from the divorce and now our intense touring schedule is making me lose so much weight, it's a wonder I can even hold a guitar without my arms snapping off and making me lose the will to write any music.

I never thought the day would come. Music is one of my two loves, and hating it is a scary thought.

"Give me a reason to turn and run," I sing softly, trying to console myself with only song keeping me optimistic by a tiny smidge, "Give me a reason to burn this house down. Give me a reason I wish you would, I wish you would, wish you would."

"Why're you singing that song, dude?" My best friend asks.

I hesitate. Should I tell him?

Maybe I should. I'm done with all this unhelpful drama going on in my life.

I drop the bomb. "I'm leaving."

"Leaving what?" Brad says, looking almost encouraging.

He won't be soon. "I'm leaving the band, Brad. For good."

He sighs, looking almost resigned. "Honestly, I was expecting this." What? "You seem really sick, Adam. Not just regarding health, but sick of everything. It's good for you to take some time off from music."

How did he-? Never mind, this is Brad Walst. Case closed.

"But I'm leaving the band we've been in for twenty years." I say, surprised. "How are you so supporting?"