𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞 | machine gun kelly

32

OCTOBER HAD WHISTLED BY LIKE A NONCHALANT farmer on his way to pull down a scarecrow standing taut in his field.

I hadn't realized it was almost October 31st in a few days. Had I ever really stood back and actually kept track of the months and dates for the entirety of the tour? I had not. I had Sam to tell me which was show night and which was not. I had only my brother's birthdate memorized, and then I had gone and forgotten that my own stood right round the corner. 

But it had happened, and now I was fully 22. It felt strange, this sharp feeling of melancholy that somehow only intensified as my eyes took in the halloween decorations of this small hotel I had checked in. Skeletons clad in bold dresses and others made to look like Michael Myers and Pennywise, stood alongside the staircase from the lobby and up to the room floor.

I had made sure it was far away from the previous hotel, I didn't want to run into anyone, nor did I want to be found. 

My room was small—much smaller than what I had become used to for the tour, but it was quaint. A wreath etched with fake burnt orange colored flowers and green vines hung on the door from the inside, and a delicate handmade pumpkin garland trailed over the headboard of the small bed. The bedding was in striking halloween colors too, stripes of orange and black on the duvet and the throw pillows showcased elaborate pumpkin art and other miscellaneous stuff. 

I managed a smile as I took in everything. Halloween was right around the corner, the only holiday I had every truly loved. For the first time, I felt a sense of normality seep into me. A nostalgic normality that made my eyes sting suddenly, because this was how my room back home would've looked had I been there for halloween. This was how our entire house looked this time around, perhaps even more heavy with the decorations. 

My suitcase rested against a wall and I took my laptop, that I had just retrieved from inside, to the bed. I needed to book a flight home. There was nothing else on my mind but that, and I knew that once I had secured a ticket, the barrage inside my head would break and other intrusive, desperate thoughts would seep in and I would be helpless against them. Still, with shaking hands, I connected to the wifi I had inquired of from the reception, and in minutes I had booked myself a flight. 

The next flight to Seattle was in two days, and though it wasn't as soon as I had wished, I still had the hope of being home for halloween, which was such a relief. For some reason, I had expected the worst. 

Opening up my email, I quickly composed a resignation paragraph—my fingers running over keys like it wasn't anything. To type this out was perhaps the easiest thing I've done so far since I left home. This was a long time coming, and knowing I'll be somewhat free after this goes out to Trippie Redd's management, was all the motivation I needed. The world can associate me with him however much they want, I'll block them all out and I'll keep away. They will move on, the world always moves on when someone more exciting comes along. 

It sounded easy, and I believed it would be. Trying to forget someone you no longer loved was easy, it was the people you still loved that proved a challenge. 

I clicked send, the email box disappeared, a soft sent appeared on the screen in the corner. I closed the screen and kept my laptop to the side. Then, I quickly made my way to the shower. Afterwards, in my nightly attire, I found myself on the bed, air pods connected to my phone via Bluetooth, in my ears, as I scrolled through popular Spotify playlists. Soon enough, my fingers had selected a The Neighbourhood song and it poured in my ears. 

"All I am, is a man.
I want the world in my hands.
I hate the beach but I stand,
in California with my toes in the sand."