Is It Worth It?

April 27, 2016

"I'm worried about Louis." I say as I throw myself in the chair in her office. I stressed over here and I'm five minutes late.

"How come?"

"It doesn't seem like he wants to be on stage again, have a solo career." I explain.

"Would it bother you if he chose not to?"

"Yes!" I say a little too loud.

"Why?"

"Because I know how much he loves it. He's just scared. If our label and management mentally abused me they did a real number on Louis because he always defended me." I try to explain.

"Have you suggested therapy?"

"Of course. He's considering it." I answer.

"Would you resent him if he chose another career path?"

"Of course not! I will support him no matter what. I just want him to be happy. I worry about what we talked about before, equality." I tell her and let out a deep sigh.

"You wouldn't be equals if he worked in a cafe' or what's considered a normal job?"

"You make me sound like an elitist. I'm not! I don't look down on people who have a regular job. Every occupation is needed in a society and one is not better than the other. Louis doesn't even have to work if he doesn't want to. He's rich. If you wanna discuss jobs, being an artist isn't exactly a real job, is it?
No, I worry about how it would affect our relationship in the long run. When you're on tour performing it's time-consuming. It's one thing if we both do it. Then we would have a greater understanding about not being able to call as often as we would like to. You're just busy and we both would be busy. If he had a regular job he would have more time on his hands and I'm afraid that he would resent me after a while. Or if he wouldn't work he might travel with me to my shows and then he would resent me after a while." I take a deep breath after I finish that rant.

"There's so much to unpack here. Why isn't being an artist a real job?"

I shrug my shoulders.
"I just sing."

"From what I understand you work harder than a lot of people. Day and night. You don't clock an eight-hour workday. You spend hour after hour writing your own songs, recording them, rehearsing them, then it's soundcheck, at least three hours of getting up in front of thousands of people who came just to hear you sing. That's a lot of pressure. Then it's the constant traveling."

I stare at her dumbfounded.
"When you put it like that..."

"Louis knows all of this. You were in a band together. Why would he resent you?"

"I don't know..." I mumble. I feel a little stupid.

'Have you discussed your worries with him?"

"Not exactly." I sigh.

"How will you know how he thinks, how he feels about it if you don't ask him?"

She has a point. It bugs me.