XXPLOSIVE

No Apologies?

28th October,2000, Michigan

A week had passed after me and Marshall’s interaction. And? Well, it was weird. As me and Lindsay were now in charge of sound and lights, we found ourselves interacting way more with the artists than before. In the beginning, he'd throw occasional glares at me which I returned by flipping him off, exactly like how he did in his songs.

I knew that me being questioning as a bisexual was not well received; everyone treated me as if I was a big whore, who got over anyone by smashing the next chick or dude I find, but I really thought Marshall was different. I thought that the guy rapping about killing homosexuals was really just Slim Shady, the imaginary psycho who says cause he thought it was funny. Well, turns out it’s not funny, I’m wrong and he's a motherfuckin jerk. The audacity of that lil prick, I just want to slap his stupid freckled face.

However, the past couple days, whenever we accidentally did glance over each other, he looked at me as if he wanted to say something. But I made up my mind that I was in no mood to listen. I’ve been stripped down my self-confidence way too many times to give in again. I couldn’t stop thinking about him randomly though; must be the resentment building up.
I ruminated about if I should fire some final shots at him, mhmm how bout stabbing him? Goddamn, I was angry.

But eventually decided to drop it for good and forget anything happened between us. I was supposed to be working with the set director but I just felt very angry. I sat in my chair, twiddling my thumbs, when the door opened wide.

“The fuck you doing? They’re hollering your name down there for like five good minutes.” He said agitated, not exactly facing me.

“Fine, I’ll pay attention.’’ I replied flatly.

“So, you think this all is a joke huh? Everyone’s trying to practice out there and you just wanna sit on your ass?”

“Fuck you, you don’t know the amount of work we have to do backstage every day! Easy for you to say when you just gotta remember your lyrics and sing them in some shitty tune.” I said angrily, as I stood in front of him, trying to almost size him up.

“Man, what is your problem? Is this about the other day? You’re ruining the rehearsal for everyone else over that!”

I scoff. THIS MAN STILL DOESN’T UNDERSTAND WHAT WENT WRONG. I opened my mouth to blast this little bitch.

“ OH HELL NO, YOU’RE GONNA PRETEND LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED? THIS IS EXACTLY WHY YOUR TAPE FAILED; YOU’RE INFINITE-LY TRASH!”

Okay, this isn’t making sense. This is such a childish insult. Who the fuck cares I'm on a roll and I’m fucking angry!

“That’s the best you can do?” he scoffs.
I push his chest as he firmly grips my arms to stop me.

“Leave my fucking hands alone!”

“Yo, you gotta calm down. We gotta be adults about this.” he says, in a abruptly soft voice, signaling to the stage below us. He left me and I shot a dirty look at him, and slightly nodded my head. 

He took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said that day.” He said as he looked at me dead in my eyes with his eyes wide and a tiny bit sorrowful.

He’s apologizing?

“Shit, you expect me to go back to being just nice to you after you apologize? Oh my god, Eminem apologized to me, let that justify the fact that he completely shat over my sexuality and self-respect! I said, sardonically, standing up from my chair with my hands crossed.