faith in You

1.

It had been a few years now, since Robert had started making music with the cure. Four years to be exact; four excruciating long years of mental torture robert had to endure all on his own. Since the recording of three imaginary boys, Robert has guarded himself around people. He keeps up a facade of being perfectly fine when really the images of past traumas flashed inside his brain every time he closed his eyes.

Robert did his best though to ignore the memories, he kept busy with playing shows non-stop, writing new music and most importantly binge drinking. He had become quite the pro at that. 

Working with Chris however was better than having to work with his original record producer barry; who had gone bankrupt and disappeared off the face of the earth. Robert took great pleasure in knowing that Barry would never be able to show his face in the music business ever again; especially after what he had done to robert.

However, the effect Barry had on Robert was rather long lasting, he often had nightmares of the night Barry had assaulted him. Robert had developed a fear of the dark, and he rarely slept well anymore. Robert had become hyper sexual to cope with the trauma, often finding willing birds who were more than happy to fulfill Robert's self indulgent needs. Robert didn’t care anymore.

With the growing success of the cure as well, there were more opportunities to grow Robert's sinful needs of self deprecation. He had access to strong drugs, often turning to lsd, acid or worse. Cocaine.  Each time Robert would rent a hotel; the band knew exactly what was happening. It was a rather sad sight really, Robert had such high walls built around him that he couldn’t even see that he was starting to destroy himself.

Robert started to become aggressive, unsocial and unmotivated. He would often sit in the corner of rooms staring off into space, thinking about god knows what until he stood up and simply walked out of the room. Robert was in his own world; lost inside a maze inside his brain, desperately trying to cope with everything. 

It didn’t take much to set robert off anymore, he had become a miserable bastard; a selfish twat who only thought about his own needs….

*****

Seething anger. Robert felt nothing short of that- he was sure by now it had consumed his mind to the point of no return. Robert felt anger towards everyone and everything- he felt so out of control in his pathetic existence; he was willing to do anything to regain the sense of control he so desperately longed for.

However, that just didn’t seem possible anymore. Robert wanted to claw at his face- he didn’t want to be the ‘robert smith of the cure’ anymore. It was too much for him- everything was too much for him.  Robert grinded his teeth together, dark circles hung under his eyes like the baggage he was carrying inside his mind. 

He hadn’t been able to sleep for days; every hour seemed to drag on for an eternity. It didn’t matter though, because no matter how hard he tried to get decent sleep; memories of the past resurfaced in his dreams, torturing him until he shot awake in a cold sweat, unable to breathe. It was horrible.

Robert wouldn’t lie when he said he wished he didn’t exist anymore. There were times where he longed for the sweet release of death; to plunge head first into eternal darkness where no one could bother him or misuse his tender heart. Robert could see himself becoming a bitter person, he wasn’t very nice to be around anymore. A right miserable bastard.

Once things had started to pick up witht the cure, people suddenly flocked around Robert like flies; filling his mind with utter shit and tearing him apart inside out. People who claimed to be Robert's so called friends ended up being nothing but insects picking at his skin, gnawing at his flesh until he was nothing but bones. Robert could see through them, and despite having this growing success; robert had never felt so utterly useless and alone.