Until the Sky Falls

In a perfect world

"I wish that I could bring you back; I wish that I could turn back time..."

Montreal

Tuesday December 25th, 2007

1 PM

Pierre

They say Christmas Day is supposed to be a joyous occasion.  And I guess it would be except for the fact that I'm spending this day alone.  Rochelle went home to her family...without inviting me.  She says that we need a longer break than the one we originally intended.  I believe though that the real reason is that she's having second thoughts about being with me...about marrying me...and who could blame her. 

Who would want to marry a guy who killed the girl who loved him with all her heart and soul...and everything?  I know I wouldn't.  Not that I'd marry a guy...but you know what I mean.  So, anyways, I'm sitting here sucking on a cigarette, drinking a Jack Daniels, depressed as all get out and watching an interview on Much Music.  No, it's not Simple Plan.  We're still going...if only for the sake of touring our third album. 

The way things are going between us though; I don't think we'll last for much longer as a band. I think this'll be our last gasp.   I've promised myself I'll enjoy it while it lasts, and at least David has said that he'll keep all the personal shit out of it.  Pat and Chuck still have a go at me every now and again...but it's only been three months...since...well, just since.  Jeff and Seb find it uncomfortable to be near me and so unless we're performing they avoid me like the plague. 

I really don't get that saying... 'Avoid one like the plague'.  Wouldn't that be saying that the plague avoids shit?  Because it sure as hell didn't in the Bible...or some such.  I guess the saying should be 'avoid me like I have the plague..." That's more what they're doing.  But same as I can't blame Chelle for deserting me this Christmas, I can't blame them for acting that way.

I mean they burst into the Guild that night and found me curled up into Marly's body, shaking.  Apparently, I was a fucking wreck.  That was after they'd prodded me to wake me up.  I think I must've been in shock or something. I'd blacked out, that's all I really remembered. Anyway, they hadn't particularly cared about me.  Pat had dragged me away from her; David had found the syringe where it had dropped onto the floor and put it back into the container, holding it away from him as if it had the plague.  The others had all crowded around her body obviously trying to find a pulse. 

Eventually they gave up and turned on me.  You should've heard David; he was screaming and crying and he actually hit me a few times.  Strangely enough, I'd just slumped to the floor and let him.  I deserved it.  And I really didn't have it in me to fight back.  My head had been aching; I guess the strain had finally caught up with me.  And my heart...it felt like a lump of lead bearing down in my chest.  It still does even now, the alcohol only just numbing the senses. 

You know something surprising?  Damien was there.  He told me why afterwards on the way back to the hotel.  His confession was something I hadn't expected.  He'd cared...as well.  So...I told him the truth about my own feelings.  None of the others know how close I came to not going through with it.  And none of them know that I paid for her funeral either.  In fact, her having one was completely my doing.  I didn't show up though, kept up the facade of the callous, uncaring bastard they all thought I'd become.  Don't want to disabuse them of that notion now, do I. 

Hah, who am I kidding...I wish they'd forgive me for what I'd done.  In the end, it hadn't been easy...it had hurt me...and well I definitely don't feel any happier because of it.  Y'know how they say you don't know you had a good thing until it's gone?  Well, that's how I feel, and I'm not talking about Rochelle.  Sighing, I changed channels aimlessly, then after a second switched the TV off and flung the remote onto the floor.