Cowboy Diaries - a Jon Bon Jovi fan fiction

1: Stranger In This Town

29. April 1991, New York City

Jon's POV

The street I was walking along was dark and empty. I left the busy quarters of New York and now finally had found a silent place where I could think. 

To be honest I didn't really think of something important. I was just in my usual depressive mood, feeling sorry for myself and thinking about everything that had happened. I didn't care about searching for solutions. I didn't want to be happy, I didn't need any sympathy. In fact I had no idea what I wanted.

Sometimes I just thought about standing on the platform of the World Trade Center. I could just have jumped from there and everything would have been over. But I was too afraid of hitting the ground and of the pain that I would have felt to actually do that. Maybe I would've made big news, but in the end nobody would've cared. I would just be another crazy rock star that commited suicide.

Maybe that was the actual reason why I had moved to New York: knowing that nobody cared about me. I was just another face in the crowd. And if something happened to me, it wouldn't matter. I thought the loud night life could distract me from all my problems. But they never got away. They were in my mind, wherever I decided to go.

But I just couldn't stand to live in Jersey anymore. The memories of my past life would've taken over me. I know I said that it's my home and that I would never move because I love it so much here. But what is a home without people that care for you?

And nobody cared for me these days. Even the press got tired of writing shit about me. But I knew that it somewhat was my own fault because I didn't let anybody in, I just tried to hide from everything. Even my parents hadn't seen me for over four months. Of course I had called them sometimes, or more often they'd called me. But I didn't have the courage to look them into their eyes, after all that had happened. And when I talked with them on the phone I could hear their disappointment in their voices. Even though they tried to hide it.

The cold wind blew through my long hair, covering my face and the big Elvis painting on the back of my long coat. I still wore that coat, I had it especially made for me on the New Jersey tour. I didn't have the heart to throw it away like all the rest of my old clothing. It gave me comfort. I thought I could hide from the world by covering myself with my clothes and hair. Even though deep down I knew it was of no use, the damage was already done.

And nobody would have recognized me anyway. I had become very skinny, a shadow of the man I had been just some time ago. The muscles that had shown underneath my tattoo were long gone, and I didn' even care to shave anymore. 

That skull tattoo reminded me of my wedding day, exactly two years ago this day. It was a great day. Our record just went to number one, we were all happy and excited like little kids. Alec drank a bit too much that day, like usual. And after our party with the band and the crew I took Snake with me to get him his first tattoo while I got this one. 

I think I was pretty drunk too. Because after that, I proposed to Dorothea. It was a serious decision, don't get me wrong. But I would never had brought up the courage to ask her if I was sober that day.

Dorothea. I thought of her every day. I remember how happy we both were on our wedding day. I thought we were meant to stay together till we die. I made all this cheesy promised to her, telling her I would never let her go. And there I was, two years later, just a lonely, depressive rock star who made bad headlines in the news like so many others. 

I knew the only person that could help me right now was Dorothea. The love of my life. I always loved her to death and that would never end. But I was too proud and too afraid to ask her to forgive me. Probably she wouldn't  even listen to me. And who could blame her? I was an asshole.