Attendance Time!!!
(PS: ^Can listen to the song above once you get to the part for effect 😊^)
Your POV
"Fuck!" I shout as I throw papers off the desk, slapping my hand down and standing up to walk around but I just get more frustrated as the shitty lyrics I threw on the floor stare right up at me.
"AHH!" My voice strains as I scream, kicking one of my acoustic guitars, smashing a hole through it as it flies into the wall.
The door bursts open and Scarlett shouts, "What the hell are you doing?! Our daughter is trying to sleep Y/N!"
I lean my head against the wall and breathe out heavily, a long, painfully exhausted string of air, tapping my fist against the wall while I try to calm down.
"Sorry."
Out of the corner of my eye I can see Scarlett looking down at the broken guitar and reaching for it, along with the papers scattered, sighing while she kneels down.
"I guess asking how the final track's coming along would be a dumb question."
My body turns to her and I fold my arms across my chest with a stressful huff, "I just don't know what else to write. There's ballads, faster paced songs...I know the album is telling a story. My downfall to my rising. But it's not like I'm perfectly better, you know? The Oscars I had a bad moment, I still struggle with my addiction everyday even though I only go to AA once a month now, I slowed down my therapy. But I'm not just better, it's not like this is some hero's tale.
The overdose was shit. Going to rehab was shit. I'm so fucking angry that my life turned out like that. You are the one good thing I have done in my life and you gave me a family, but I almost ruined it. I almost died. People shit on me all the time, I see the comments, the articles, calling me dramatic, saying that me talking about my struggles with addiction is just for publicity, that if I really wanted to stop then I could've just stopped.
A lot of people still just don't fucking get it and now there's just all this pressure to make a kickass album and seem like a role model but I just...God I just want to fucking be done with this crap! I want to say that it gets easier but it hasn't really. It's a disease that I have to deal with all the goddamn time and people expect me to stop talking about it? It's a huge part of my life."
I suck in a huge breath of air and groan, pacing around the floor and kicking more lyrics.
"Sweetheart if you pace any more you're going to dig a moat. Come on, let's watch a movie or something. You're not going to get any work done freaking out like this."
With another groan, my stubbornness taking me over as she tries to tug me towards the door I shake my head, "I can't. I have to get this done."
Scarlett looks at me and her eyes go solemn, eyebrows pulling together in distress as she cups my cheeks and forces me to meet her gaze.
"Please come upstairs. You need a break. You're getting a little too close to the edge, okay?"
I start to frown and go to argue but she raises a finger and tuts, "Nope. No arguing. You're running yourself too thin. Upstairs. We still have leftover ice cream cake from Rose's soccer victory party. Chocolate, your favorite."
We stand there, having a little stare down before she raises her eyebrows daringly at me, waiting to see if I try and pick a fight. Lord knows that picking a fight with Scarlett however, is close enough to a death wish.
Given that I can see the clear worry on her face, eyes observing me, trying to read into my soul and gauge the state of mentality I am currently in.
She's right though, I'm getting too close to a break.
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YOU ARE READING
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