Misprinted Lies (Alice in Chains/Bruno Mars)

Walk Alone

During the summer of 2008, Alice in Chains started working with their producer and sound engineer, Nick. They all collaborated on tracks already laid down before meeting with him. I looked at the mixing board and computer stuff and was completely amazed, a geek's paradise.

"Pretty cool, huh?" Nick said.

"Really cool," I said in amazement.

For several weeks, I watched Nick work magic on the boards and began to prefer watching him than actually playing on guitar. He showed me a lot of cool effects and equalizers; I think my interest intrigued him.

"You know," he said. "A lot of people find this stuff really boring, but you really seem to be enjoying it."

"Yeah," I agreed. "It's really, really awesome."

"Tell you what," Nick said. "Why don't I introduce you to some people? Maybe you should get out there and really get your feet wet and see if this is something you'd really like to do?"

"Yeah sure, Nick. That would be great! Thank you!"

Nick took me to a studio in northern Los Angeles. He had someone he wanted me to meet but refused to tell me who before we got there. When we did get there, I knew exactly who it was.

"Ryan, this is Lily. Lily, this is Ryan Tedder," Nick said.

We greeted each other. Ryan Tedder was a huge name in the industry. Sure, he was the singer for One Republic, but mostly he was a very well-known songwriter and producer. I was so nervous and terrified to meet him.

"You have what it takes, kid?" Ryan asked. I could barely hear his voice because I was freaking out internally.

Nick interrupted me when I was just about to open my mouth. "She's got a lot of potential for a sixteen year old."

I have to give Nick a lot of credit. He taught me so much about the technical end of music. I always had loved it; that was bound to happen given my environment, but I never knew I would fall in love with it on this level. Mixing and engineering was another puzzle for me to put together.  I couldn't be happier.

Early the next year, I was barely seeing Jerry, Nick, or any of the Alice in Chains guys. It's not that I didn't want to, but they were planning promotional stuff and a tour. I was working beside Ryan a lot, putting together little snippets of songs. He was teaching me so much.

"You're really getting good at this," he kept saying.

There were rarely days I took off and stayed home, which was so different from what I used to be doing. It was the complete opposite. However, during a week in March of 2009, things got a bit tough. My stomach hurt so, so bad. I was getting so paranoid. I kept seeing Dad, knowing he was gone. 

Jerry and I finished putting our dinner plates in the dishwasher.

"Alright," I sighed. "I'm going to bed."

"Really?" he asked. 

It was only seven o'clock. Why didn't he follow me? Why didn't he notice there was something wrong? He should have figured it out.

I went upstairs and took a long shower. I closed my eyes and hoped the water would soothe the pain. I needed Dad so, so bad. Jerry was so distant from me. Between his music life and his dating life, I didn't fit in anymore. My pleas to go back to the hospital for a different medicine went unheard. There had to have been something better.

Looking at the pills in my hand, I cried to myself. My hand started shaking as I got them down. Dad's face appeared in the mirror. His smile turned into a pout as I dumped the rest of the bottle into my hand and swallowed the rest of the pills. I began to hallucinate; the room was spinning and the mirror cracked. The next thing I knew, I blacked out.

I woke up the next morning, squinting and rubbing my eyes, unsure about where I was. I massaged my stomach slowly. It was like I had a 50 pound bowling ball trying to break out of prison. I was in prison; I was the hospital, again. Jerry and the rest of the Alice guys were there.

"Morning," Jerry said, smiling.

"What happened?" I asked.

Jerry took my hand. "You took too many pills."

A tear ran down my face. Jerry, Mike, and Sean were all staring at me. I looked down at my fingers, interlocking them. I was so uncomfortable.

"You're not in trouble kiddo," Sean said. "We're just worried. We thought we were going to lose you."

I didn't want to be found. I wanted everything to be over; EVERYTHING.

Jerry was still holding my hand, and squeezing it. "Lily, you've been taking these pills for a long time. Why did you take so many?"

"I uh..." I said nervously. "I..."

Jerry rubbed my back slowly. "It's okay."

"My stomach hurt so much... and I-I-I thought that if I took a lot of pills it would help a lot. I...I don't know...I'm sorry."

Days after the overdose, Jerry made me go to a Crohn's support group. He assured me I'd make friends, like he did when I went to school. It was mostly other kids my age, some a little older. The last thing I wanted to do was to see a reflection of my illness in other people.

It was a small group, held by the Crohn's and Colitis Foundation. There was a chapter right in Los Angeles. I sat down in the circle of chairs waiting for me. It was so scary and it felt like I was at some kind of addiction therapy. Jerry sat with the other parents in a separate room. We went around and shared our names and when we were diagnosed. Most of them had just been diagnosed. The director looked at me. It was my turn.

"I'm Lily. I've had Crohn's since I was two years old."

I listened to all of them describe their stories. I had it way worse. It was all such a joke. I didn't want to share my personal details but they forced it out of me. They asked me specific questions.

"I take pills when I wake up, eat lunch, and go to bed. Umm ... I was in the hospital 10 times in the last year."

"And what is that like? How do you feel?"

I shrugged my shoulders. I looked around at the stares. The defeat in the air almost suffocated me; I had to escape.

"Lily, you're safe here. You're allowed to let people in and try to help you. That's how you get better."

I stood up, very angry. "I'm not safe here. None of you people know me. How am I supposed to trust any of you? The last thing I'd ever want to see happen for me is to wimp out like all of you have. It's like you've all given up. This fuckin' pity party is RIDICULOUS. Talking about it is not gonna help at all."

This girl named Hope wasn't even paying attention. She was in her own little world. From that point on, I closed myself in, even more. I put up my walls.