* * And everyone you meet And all that you slight And everyone you fight And all that is now And all that is gone And all that's to come And everything under the sun is in tune But the sun is eclipsed by the moon
I sigh to myself for the millionth time as I replay one of my favorite albums of all time. I've been depressed from to time to time but never to this extent.
You think you know someone. You let them into your circle. You allow yourself to be vulnerable. You let them to see a side of you that you keep hidden away from the world because said world has shattered you into a million pieces simply because they could and still do so on a daily basis.
You fall hopelessly in love.
You take a chance.
You lose.
You hurt.
You die a little inside.
I've been in the safe cocoon of my bedroom licking at my wounds since my tour ended. Has it been days? A week? It's hard to tell.
Not that it matters.
Every time I close my eyes I see her face as she says "Bye," and shrugs at me nonchalantly.
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Minutes later I was on stage for my final show. I had to bury this sudden bombshell of pain and betrayal and channel it all into performing my heart out. The positive energy from the crowd was the best painkiller. Unfortunately, all good things come to end. The curtain falls, the adoring fans exit, and I'm left alone.
She told me that she had already met someone. To already be replaced hurt like hell. Did her new boyfriend know that we had sex the day before she dumped me? It was some sad, awful sex. Ha. I should've known something terrible was about to happen.
I turn up the music even louder when I feel tears pricking my eyes. I am not crying over her. She never cared. It wasn't real for her.
I guess she assumed it wasn't real for me, either. I thought that changed when I told her I was in love with her at my mum's house several months ago, but okay.
My fucking bad.
"OKAY, HAROLD! ENOUGH!" My personal assistant, Emma, abruptly opens the door. "GET OUT OF BED!"
"DON'T YELL AT ME!" I bellow from underneath three fluffy blankets.
"TURN DOWN THE MUSIC THEN I WON'T HAVE TO!" Emma tries to pry the many blankets off me. "I HOPE YOUR DECENT!"
