SDMN| Stories

• BOY | KSI

I took a pill in Ibiza.

Oh freedom boy, you know you want to.
A hand floated in front of him, flat palmed. The bass of the party thumped through the walls, crowded his head. Dark thoughts came. Loosen up. Loosen up, you can't be yourself. They don't want him. You're better when you're not you.

Alcohol fogged his mind, another way to escape. The hand seemed welcoming. His fingers brushed against the hand, moving on auto-pilot. Soft grasp curling around a small piece of freedom. It felt heavy, unexpectedly so considering it's small size. He supposed it was more the metaphorical value of it, like a weight on his shoulders, but only in his hand.

It met his lips first. Chapped lips, used for talking. That's no good, talking didn't get him anywhere.
He swallowed the freedom.
And smiled.

To show Avicii I was cool.

See, fake boy? Keep up your facade.
Prove to them that you can be who they want. Be the party loving, wreck-less kid they think you are. This is your chance, they can like you if you try. Don't be yourself, boy, they don't know him. You're carefree.
Words washed over him, praises directed to the shell of a boy. He took them with a smile.

See? They like this you. You're cool now.

And when I finally got sober.

You're a broken boy now, what have you become?
The days blurred, headache burning like a fire through his skull. Water was the only thing he needed. Hangover after hangover, he was addicted to escape so much that he was trapped.

It took a lot of strength to stop.

You can't stop, they won't like you anymore. They'll see what a wreck you are. Boy, hide your tears. If they see you're weak, they'll take their aim. But this won't fix you. Don't overdo it. You're becoming suspicious.

The water left a cold trail down his throat, trying to clear the toxicity that lined the boys inside. And so he decided.

He'd rather feel healthy then happy.

Felt ten years older.

Maturity is a rare feeling. Especially for you, silly boy. It's seems silly now, doesn't it? Ruining your body just to fit in.

He liked this, he felt some sense of control. Nobody even noticed the difference at first, they were used to him taking days off partying every now and then.
But it's because they didn't care that they continued to not notice.

Why didn't they praise you on your success? Did they see you were struggling at all?

Tears came to his eyes.

But fuck it, it was something to do.

You're now unseen boy, once again. Your battles, don't speak of them. They don't want to know what happened to you.

Your days aren't as fun as they used to be, are they? Boredom reaches your brain more often then not.
He found himself regretting going sober. As guilty as he was, there was something about the freedom he felt that he missed.

Occupy yourself. Maybe if you can find something new then they might see that you're worth something again.

I'm living out in LA,
Drive a sports car just to prove.
I'm a real big baller, cause I made a million dollars,
And I spend it on girls and shoes.

You've gone viral, empty boy. Fill the space with money and girls. Hide behind your laugh. Everyone's watching you now. You've got all the attention you could ever want. If you show them you have money, then you'll be worth something.

He smiled when he saw the car. It was an expensive model, one he couldn't ever remember wanting. Or needing. But he was famous now.

Famous people spend their money on expensive things. He had to fit in, right?

"But you don't want to be high like me."

You've fucked up, stupid boy.
Confused eyes met his own, hurling unspoken questions into him. This wasn't what he had planned to say. Throat dry, he wanted to rush to correct himself, but was held back.

It was just a simple conversation, but he had managed to blurt out unwanted words.
Feelings spoke through his words, emotions he had to hold back.

Explain yourself, or you're never going to make it out alive.

"Never really knowing why like me.
You don't ever wanna step off that roller coaster and be all alone.
You don't wanna ride the bus like this."

Lonely boy, now they know. They don't understand, but they know. It's alright, they're your friends. No one will know just how much your life has fallen to pieces.

He explained himself to awaiting ears, but managed to mess up his words. It was impossible to tell them how he felt directly.

Be strong, maybe it's not as bad as you think.

Never knowing who to trust like this.

You've been left betrayed, boy. They've gone behind your back. But they were your friends, right? Surely they couldn't have.

Tears were harshly blinked back as he heard the news. His little secret was outed. Disbelief racked his face, pulling his eyebrows up high.

Someone recorded you. You're rich and famous. Of course they'd do anything to cling onto just a slither of attention that they can milk from you.

You don't have friends anymore.

You don't wanna be stuck up on that stage singing,
Stuck up on that stage singing.

You're ready now, nervous boy. This is your moment of fame. The crowd awaits your arrival. Just go out there and sing, make sure to get the words right.
Schedule booked out, he looked to his phone. Of course he didn't have free time. He had to put on a show.

Prove yourself once more, show them you have something worth their attention.

All I know are sad songs, sad songs.
Darling, all I know are sad songs, sad songs.

Your lyrics aren't the same anymore, sad boy. Why can't you do it? You don't enjoy this anymore. It's not the same.

He once again had to scribble out the words, pen ink running low. Writing took time, and now it felt like a chore. None of his words were sounding real anymore.

His words were tainted with sad.

The only emotion he knew.

This is a short story using half of the lyrics from "I took a pill in Ibiza". In this, it follows JJ Olatunji's view of fame as it slowly breaks him down. I feel like the lyrics matched with him best.