~ Missed Person ~

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Pov Beca

I've been locked up in the recording studio for hours, the one I have at home. It's a small booth, it's nothing, there's not all the equipment as the record company, but it allows me to arrange something with great acoustics. It took awhile to make it, for the whole issue of sound insulation, electrical connections between inside and outside the booth, and other things I don't understand at all.  But it was worth it. I wanted it because at least on bad days, when I don't want to hear or see anyone, I isolate myself in here and let the outside world continue to go on, without interfering with me. It's better that way, because in days like these I could be really intractable and crabby, more than I already am.

Since Chloe left last night, I've been taking refuge here. Now I think it's 5:00 a.m., or something more.  I didn't eat anything, I didn't sleep. I stayed here to be able to put on paper what is bouncing off my head and prevent all these thoughts from driving me crazy. I read somewhere that writing is therapeutic, and actually after sketching something, I felt better. Probably because you focus on what you are writing, diverting attention from what you were thinking. Maybe. But it works, so that's what matters.

Blake wrote to me several times during the evening last night, but I haven't answered her yet. When I received her first message, it was as if a dam had broken in my mind and a cascade of words had flooded my brain, I tried to channel all the anger felt into something more productive. Or at least I hope, because otherwise all the work done this night would have been worthless. I managed to compose two verses and the chorus of my first real song, with lyrics and melody. There will be the bridge to add, surely something will be to improve, I will have to make it heard and record it in the studio, and I will be helped by the producers, if all goes well and they like the lyrics. I've translated into words everything I've heard over the years, everything that Chloe and her damn words have caused in me. Both in the past and yesterday. It turned out to be a ransom song, if you can call it that. Because that's what I want for me.

I want to redeem myself from all this time spent in pain, destroying myself for someone I thought knew me better than anyone else. I am disappointed, bitter, wounded, once again. But I'm tired of all this.  The pain remains, I can't sweep it away as if nothing were wrong, but I can start working on it, and maybe try to get inspired. At the moment I couldn't have written better, it's still the first time I've taken down barriers and let my most vulnerable part speak. I just hope it's enough as a start. May they appreciate it. John had given me the deadline in a couple of weeks, let's say I got carried away and shortened the time.

Blake 6.15 am
Good morning. Know that if you don't answer this message either, I'll start calling anyone I know on the face of the earth to find out where you are.

How can she be so morning? If it were for me, I would sleep almost all day long. Especially today after spending an awake night. Maybe I could say I don't feel well and don't go to the studio, stay home in bed and make up for all the lost sleep. That sounds like a good idea. But I’d like to make them listen immediately what I have composed tonight.  Damn workaholic. I take my headphones out of my ears and drop them on my neck while I rest my forehead on my hands. I have a hallucinating headache and I don't know if I'll be able to cope with the day. Not at least without a double coffee and maybe something to eat. My stomach is still closed but maybe I can get a yogurt down. I should answer Blake, she's really capable of calling anyone, and I sincerely don't want them to ask me unnecessary questions or worry about anything.

Me 6.20 am
Morning. I'm alive and well, no need to call anyone.

After typing the message I decide it's time to leave the studio and go and throw myself on the couch, maybe I can rest for half an hour before getting ready for work. With every step I take, I feel pain at the level of my temples, damn it. I've been reduced really badly. I'll have to take something strong to calm it. Before going to the living room I pass by the bathroom to be able to retrieve a painkiller from the shelf behind the mirror of the sink. Sooner or later I'm going to have to make a bit of order, for sure there will be medicines that have expired for an eternity. I fill my glass near the tap with running water and swallow the pill all in one breath. I can't help but notice my reflection in the mirror. The dark circles are impressive, I'll have to work miracles later with the concealer.

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