2 kids

Five more minutes

Alex. 

Five more minutes and I'll be standing on the stage again.

This night won't differ in any way, and neither will the feeling. Yet it will be different, in so many ways.

The fundamental principles remain unaltered – the screams, songs, our performances and essentially some parts of the atmosphere. But the magic that blooms with the unique atmosphere of each venue, will determine the differences. No night, no show, and no city is the same.

That's how our lives have changed in almost a year – school at daytime, concerts at night-time. Different cities, countries, almost every night.

There are moments when it feels surreal, like a hazy dream. Moments when I have to blink twice to assure myself it's a real feeling spreading through my chest, not just wishes made upon the darkest night skies. Moments when my old life seems like a distant, faded memory.

After all these years we made it. After all these years of dreaming, suppressing the childhood dream, we finally made it. Euphoria should be capturing my life, yet no matter how close to exploding from pure joy I am, the closer I am to feeling miserable. At the end of the day, a strong feeling of sadness creeps upon me – a silent reminder that no matter how far I run, I'll never escape.

I've lost more than I've gained.

The reflection staring back at me reminds me of the stolen dream I've made mine. The sacrifices I've made are an everyday reminder that living in a fantasy world doesn't do one good. The attraction was stronger than those consequences of the sacrifices lurking somewhere in the deepest and darkest bottom of my mind. Something, despite the excruciating guilt, was calling for me to hold onto this last piece of hope.

"Gasping for air." I repeat Ace's words. He may have been right, though his eyes don't share his thoughts. The reflection in them tells me enough – he doesn't believe his own words. One thing's obvious - drowning, choking and dying has never felt this good before.

My eyes wander to the back of the dressing room, finding my guitar on the couch. It's begging me to pick it up and play. I can hear it whispering. The soothing words and promises.

The only thing that hasn't made me hate my life entirely.

Turning my eyes away from it, and shaking my head slightly, I reach for the last unopened bottle of water, as someone opens the door and pops their head inside. "Five minutes, Alex."

I automatically nod and think about the whereabouts of my bandmates. Sometimes we still suck at this whole 'band thing', even though we're used to always being together.

Just as I'm about to get up and get my guitar, the door swings open, and a breathless Ace enters. He rests against the door, whispering silent profanities under his breath. It seems a great amount of hair spray was used on his hair today, and judging by the lack of air in his lungs it's impressive work.

I lift my brows. "Where were you?"

Panting, he spits the words out. "On the other side of the arena." He stretches his hand out for the bottled water in my hand. "I stalked our fans. Like you suggested."

"I didn't mean it like that," I hand him the bottle. Hopefully the last few drops will serve him well. "And I certainly didn't mean to have a cardio workout."

When I got lost four days ago, my intentions were simple – I wanted to find a way back. I was running out of time, the rehearsal schedules at a precise hour and minute. It's safe to say, no one was pleased when they noticed I was missing. Over the years I've come to realise it seems to be possible to inherit the ability to get in trouble as often as I do.