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This is like torture.
I let out a half laugh, finding my boyfriend's exaggeration to be more comical than sorrowful.
I know, babe. Just a few more months and you'll be home.
I knew he had been having a rough time on tour, all of the cameras and attention was never what he wanted; it's never really wanted any of them wanted. They just loved to play music. In the beginning they didn't realize everything that fame would take from them, only what it could give them. They thought it would exciting, fun even, but in reality it wasn't either of those things when you didn't have a chance to stop and enjoy the ride.
They were all getting tired and warn out from all of the attention. They were getting tired of all the hate they were receiving for being a 'boy band'. It was heartbreaking to see those 4 friends who used to live and breath music go to dreading it just because of the media. They would repeatedly ask me, 'why don't people just try and listen to us with an open mind? Why can't they just put our image and the screaming girls behind us and just try?'
I didn't know what to say to them. When your four best friends start to crumble in front of you, what do you do? What do you say? Since day one they've always had my love and support, but back in those days there wasn't a lot of hate. I would remind them why they started the band, give them a tiny pep talk and they'd keep on working with a fiery passion.
But they aren't that small band from Australia anymore, and my pep talks no longer block out all of the negativity; there's just too much and it comes at them from all angles.
Only for a month.
The boys hardly ever got any time off, and when they did it was usually only for one or two weeks. I think their management could see the toll it was taking on the boys, and decided a longer break was needed this time. As much as I loved that they were all going to be back for awhile, the reason wasn't a good one. It sucked that it took such drastic measures to get them home.
We will spend everyday together. I promise.
My digital clock flashed 2:35 p.m. and I began to move in hyper-speed around my room. My bag was already packed, but I was a compulsive worrier. I kept checking and rechecking to make sure that I had packed everythng that I needed everything. It would be just like me to forget something important, like by bag or shoes.
My plane didn't leave until 4, but the Sydney Airport was notorious for being incredibly slow. While the airport was large, it wasn't nearly large enough. Even during late night flights there always seemed to be a crowd bustling through the terminals.
I rushed down the stairs, struggling a bit while carrying the weight of my bag. The strap was heavy on my shoulder, but I ignored the pain. My mum was sitting at the kitchen table, drumming her fingers lightly on the table. When she realized I had entered the room she turned to look up at me with a gentle smile.
"You ready?"
I nodded, my stomach beginning to churn in anticipation at what was about to happen. I was about to get on a plane, fly who knows how many miles for nearly 23 hours so that I could cheer up my homesick boyfriend.
I've been wanting to fly out and see him for awhile, but when he's on tour he's never in one place for long so it's difficult to find the right time. However this week they'll be doing several shows in the UK, meaning they'll be at their house in London for a week. When I arrived they'd still be in Dublin, meaning I'd have to meet Michael at their hotel, which sucked but I would rather see him sooner than later.
