Mr. Misty-Eyed | Josh Dun

reality | one

"Something you won't forget, it's all about my forehead,
And how it is a door that holds back contents,
that make Pandora's Box's contents look nonviolent."

. . . . .

Every morning it felt as though I was coming out of a year long coma. My body was tense and my head ached from all the strain of the night before. But it had only been a few hours, maybe four at most. I never got a full night's sleep, I couldn't. I wouldn't let myself endure eight hours of the hell that was my mind.

I sat up in bed and ran a hand through my matted hair, the wavy mess matted from tossing and turning all night. My breath came out in short gasps as I drank in as much air as my lungs could take like it might be stolen away from me at any moment. There was always that fleeting thought that I could actually still be dreaming.

My bare feet hit the cool wood floor as I finally hoisted myself out of bed, the sounds of clanking pans in the kitchen grabbing my attention. I stood and headed toward the bathroom, pulling on a pair of sweats over my boxers and leaving my chest uncovered.

I scowled at the mirror as my reflection stared back at me. My hair stuck up everywhere, the cherry red I had dyed it months ago had faded to an almost cotton candy pink, my natural dark roots trying to take over once again. My face was pale as scruff continued to grow along my jaw line. I shut my eyes for a brief second, but as soon as I did I forced them open too scared that if I kept them closed for too long that cold hand would tighten its hold on me.

It was a feeling I could never put into words, my roommate always having trouble coming to grips with the fact that his best friend might truly go insane at any moment. My feet padded down the single flight of steps before I turned right and headed straight into the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" I spoke to the back of my friend's head as he stood in front of the stove.

"Cooking, obviously," His voice was low as he concentrated on what he was doing, the black geometric tattoos on his arms moving along with him as he continued to prepare breakfast.

I tried to smile at him in response as I took a seat on one of the bar stools tucked underneath the counter. Tyler Joseph was an extraordinary human being and I was lucky enough to call him my roommate and best friend. I didn't know how he put up with all of my shit, but he did it with a smile on his face and I was grateful for that.

"You do remember that I'm leaving tomorrow, right?" Tyler questioned as he set a plate of eggs and bacon in front of me, his dark brown eyes watching me carefully.

My nose scrunched in frustration as his question rattled around in my head. I hadn't forgotten. I had honestly been worried about it since he told me last week. But he needed a little break, some alone time with his girlfriend, and away from me. I was not going to be the road block in Tyler's way of finding happiness. If anyone deserved it the most, it was Tyler.

"Yeah, I remember," I said, just barely glancing up at him, before I took a bite of the surprisingly well seasoned eggs.

He smiled from ear to ear and I knew exactly why. He was going to ask his long time girlfriend to marry him on this trip. And even though I adored his girlfriend, Jenna, I dreaded the day when Tyler would eventually move on and leave me on my own.

I really needed to learn how to make friends. But it was hard for me whenever I went out in public, which was rare to begin with. It felt as though I was drowning, while everyone else around me kept on breathing. I wondered everyday if there were other people in the world who felt the way I did, but I had yet to find someone who really understood the looming shadow that had been cast over my mind.

Tyler watched me from across the counter with a concerned look on his face as I quietly ate my breakfast. Sometimes he felt more like my mother rather than my best friend and like most kids did with their parents, I withheld information about what was really going on inside my brain. I didn't need him to worry any more than he already was. He must see me as a bomb just waiting to explode.

"You going to be okay here on your own for a couple days?" He asked, after having enough of only hearing the sound of metal as it scrapped against ceramic.

I glanced up at him momentarily before I reverted my eyes back to my food. "I'll busy myself."

Tyler sighed loudly at my words. "That wasn't exactly the answer I was looking for."

"Well..." I shrugged and stood from my seat, placing my empty plate in the sink. "I'll figure it out."

Tyler hummed in thought as we stood there and stared at one another. Then suddenly a grin appeared on his face, but that was just who Tyler was, he tried not to dwell on things for too long. That was yet another difference between the two of us, I over thought absolutely everything. So much so that in the end I could never remember what fault I found in the situation to begin with.

"What?" I broke the silence.

"I have a new demo for you to work on."

A real smile finally graced my lips as I thought about what lyrical genius could have flowed from his mind this time. Unlike me, it had taken Tyler years to really find his love for music and writing. I had music carved into my soul and it was the one thing that kept my problems at bay.

I was a drummer. Down to my very bones I knew I could never give it up. Tyler however liked to dabble with a little bit of everything, but if you sat him down in front of a piano and gave him a pen, pure magic would ensue. So that's what he did.

He would write and track a melody and then give the demo to me in hopes I would bring in the backbeat that it needed. It was his way of keeping me distracted and it worked, even if it was only for a little while. That was why we had copious amounts of semi-finished songs recorded, but never had any intentions of ever using them as anything but being therapeutic for me.

"Actually, I have a few." Tyler scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. He was obviously taking precautions so I would always have something to do while he was gone. As grateful as I was it still made me feel like a child.

I trailed after him as we made our way upstairs and into his room all the way at the end of the hallway. I peered over his shoulder as he collected the new tracks he had come up with, each one on a separate tape. We didn't really have any other way of tracking, so we used his father's old tape recorder. It was shit quality, but it did its job.

Tyler smiled at me reassuringly as he handed me the three tapes. I took them from his outstretched hands and headed back down the hallway and into my own room, setting them on top of my bedside table. My eyes scanned over my room and I grimaced at my still unmade bed, relishing the fact that it was only just the start of the day.

I was never ready when night fell, because I always knew that it meant sleep was on its way.

.