ᴏᴀᴋʟᴇʏ ᴄᴀʀʀɪʟʟᴏ was discovered at fourteen years old, being praised as a musical prodigy by the media ever since. His fame had only increased until now. At nineteen old, he's the most remarkable musician of his age, and he's only getting started. At...
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ᴏᴀᴋʟᴇʏ ᴄᴀʀʀɪʟʟᴏ
'The best tour ever', Danny said after our first show. I knew he was wrong, but I hadn't realized to what extent yet. The gravity of the situation was only really showing now.
The second show went about as well as the first one did. I forgot just one lyric, I managed to sneak in some interaction with this audience, things went fine otherwise, so I was almost starting to trust Danny's oracle. However, things started getting jumbled by the third show.
Due to some accident, we were late at the venue. Because of that, we had to skip over some of the sound check. During the show, I broke a string on my guitar, which took some time to be fixed too, and the string kept going out of tune. Then immediately after the show, we had to leave.
It was like a row of dominoes, as everything kept going wrong after. The fourth show got some short circuit issue, the fifth one had some mass fraud issues with the tickets, and so on and so forth.
By the eighth show, my energy was drained. The concert was sloppy, my vocal cords were tired, my mind wanted stability, but I couldn't get any of it, so it shut off. It felt like that, at least. My brain had shut off and things moved in a haze. The days dragged by slowly and I barely had the energy to take a shower anymore.
By the two-week mark, I finally stopped caring. It was the first shower I'd actually skipped, and it was like a gateway drug to the problem. Not so long after, I started skipping brushing my teeth too. I went straight from bed to the venue, and back to bed.
I had stopped leaving my bed by day seventeen (not that I was keeping track anymore). Mason and my tour manager had agreed to cancel a few shows due to sickness, but neither bothered to care why I felt sick. 'Just a scratchy throat', they said. All I needed was a few cough drops and some vocal rest.
I didn't know what day it was anymore. I hadn't left my little bedroom area on the bus for anything but food or water in three days.
I thought I could do it today, but I only realized my mistake when I already left the bus after half a shower and some mouthwash.
I had somehow chosen the worst day to perform again. We arrived late at the venue again. This time it was so bad we had to skip the sound check completely, especially at my pace, and we went straight into meet and greets. I'd forgotten this show had them in the first place, as New York was going to be the only city to do these.
I was stuck in a tiny room filled with teenagers who were all staring at me, some of them even crying. And they all paid like two hundred dollars to get like half a minute each because I was late. At least if I kept my sick act up, they would've been refunded. Now I felt like a ripoff.
"Hi, I love you," this one girl said the moment she got the chance. She must've been about my sister's age, and she appeared to be alone. "Shoot, I'm sorry," she said, her face a bright red. "I'm nervous."
