loss

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circa 1976

I should be happy, shouldn't I? Such an ungrateful bastard.

I mean, ...I've got it all! ...The success of Wings, a family, an absolutely breathtaking piece of land, even kids...
I don't need anything more, right?
It would be rather selfish of me to feel dissatisfied with my life, really. It's nothing short of perfect. I should have nothing at all to complain about.

So, why the Hell do I still feel this same lump in my throat? All I want to do is pull the bloody thing out with my teeth and move on, but it's just so difficult for some reason.

The world is practically bowing at my feet, "Give it up for the man himself, Paul McCartney!", and yet here I am... sulking in bed, thinking about no one else but him. Feeling sorry for myself and all, only because of him.

The man who retired from his craft, secluded himself halfway across the entire globe!
While I'm still here, hoping to meet with him again, one of these days. The man I grew up with.

Just to think if I met with the mysterious Beatle once again! The troubled Beatle. With John. The thought alone excited me.

Who am I kidding, though? Seriously? How delusional can I be to think that there's still any hope for us? For our relationship? It's been years since we've even spoken, let alone seen eachother.

It's easy to keep living in the past, though. It's much easier than living in the present, sometimes. Things were just so much more simpler back then. Back in the "good ol' days", when all four of us were making music like clockwork! Together!
John really was the best partner I've ever had, musically-speaking. I truly do mean that.

It was magic, what John and I had... What the whole entire band had! When we came together and performed on that stage, we were like no one else!
Ah... But with John... It was a bit different... What I had felt for him...

So, why did he go and ruin it, huh? Why did he leave us? Why did he leave me? It still boggles my mind! He took his lucky break and just... Well, he broke it.

I'll never understand anything that he does. Even after all these years, you'd think that I would've learned something!

I really do want to understand him, though. His side of the story. I'm not blatantly trying to misinterpret these things.

My dismal thoughts were soon interrupted by a soft knock on the bedroom door, causing me to jump a little in surprise.

"Er... Come in."

Linda, my wife, opened the bedroom door with a creak and peered inside to see me wrapped up in the sheets of our bed, staring intently at the ceiling.

"Paul. You haven't moved from this bed all day. You've gotta face the world at some point, you know that, right?" She sighed humorously as she spoke.

I threw my body forward and rubbed the sleepiness off of my face, "Easy for ye to say."

Linda rolled her eyes and sat down on the unmade bed, "Oh, quit being so dramatic, Paulie, what's the matter?"

"Nothin' much, really. Honest." I lied.

She gave me a knowing look, practically asking me to spit out the truth without having to say a single word. She was always able to do that with me, you know?

"...I've jus... been having... such odd dreams, lately." I explained reluctantly, "Been happenin' nearly every bleedin' night, now!"

She gave me a puzzled look, "Well, ...what happens in 'em?"

I'm Looking Through You // MclennonWhere stories live. Discover now