It's dark and you can't see anything beside a few lights in the distance. People scream. You try to walk, but something takes you to the ground. You don't feel pain, or anything at all. Something crawls up your body. You can't scream, you can't talk, you can't think straight.
You drank a lot. You smoke. You did cocaine. Ecstasy? Maybe heroin? You are not sure. The past days were full of those.
Your head is bleeding. You hear loud moans from above you. What is that? You can't define it. You try to get up, but it hits you again and you fall back; this time the pain is irradiating from everywhere.
Lana del Rey starts to play in the background, but not as loud as your thoughts that rush to your mind and soon go away. Pause it, play it, pause it, play it... pause it.
''Let's take Jesus off the dashboard
Got enough on his mind
We both know just what we're here for
Saved too many times''
You scream, but nothing comes out. You see a figure approaching you.
''Heaven is a place on earth with you, I tell you all the time.'' It holds your hand and pulls you up. Is that help? No, it's not. It pushes you to the lights and suddenly you are in a stage, with a massive crowd in front of you.
- Sing, Annie! Sing for us! - They scream. They cry for you.
You have to sing, but you can't. You are trying to hum that song that takes the pressure off you, don't you? Well, this won't work this time, sweetheart. Miley does not have it worse than you this time. Come on, sing. Sing or he will leave you. Sing. SING!
ANNA, SING! ANNA, SING UP! ANNA, ANNA, FOR FUCKS SAKE, UP, WAKE UP. SING. WAKE UP.
For a second it all gets dark again.
YOU ARE READING
Weight of Living || The Galaxy Cat Sweater {Bastille || Dan Smith || The 1975}
Fanfictiongave up on editing idgaf *** Anna; depressed, anxious, socially awkward, bullied, talented, shy. Dan; Bastille's lead singer, awkward in general, insecure, talented, shy. Matt; The 1975's lead singer, drug addict, weird, talented, adorable, succes...
