Weightless (All Time Low)

V.R.

I hate it.
I really, honestly hate it.
Everything.
I hate how the shower water chips away at my black nailpolish when I try to run my fingers through my hair.
I hate how when I try to do something productive or creative, I end up lying on my bed, fidgiting uncomfortably, tossing and turning, instead.
I hate how my room is far too clean, but when I try to make it look casual, it's always far too messy.
I hate how I feel, most of the time. Uncomfortable in my own skin and lifestyle. My emotions are so confusing I don't know what to believe anymore.
They tell you it's your heart, your heart feels, your heart is the producer of love, and you need to follow your heart, do what your heart tells you. But it's all your brain, really.
But the brain is a dangerous organ, it's the gatekeeper to the hell inside your head, where your thoughts roam behind the electric fences and beat each other to a pulp. Some ideas leave with a broken nail and a cut on their lip, and some dont get the chance to leave, they're killed and drowned in the pools of blood.
I don't have anyone to trust but myself, and even my own self is very untrustworthy.

My name's Vivian Marie Rossi, I tend to go by Viv, however. I like listening to punk music, playing in my band, drawing, reading, and pretty much anything I can use to procrastinate.
I'm 23, I've got several tattoos and piercings, long black hair with streaks of blue towards the front, and I live in an attic in the house I share with my bandmates and two adoptive brothers, Tyler and Nate. One of said brothers is my bandmate, however. Previously mentioned band consists of myself, the bassist, and occasionally backup vocals, Ivy Lux, the lead guitarist, Kent Adams, our drummer, Jace Ryker, second guitarist, and Tyler, on lead vocals. And our manager, Rylee Scott, he lives with us as well.
Our band's called Enslave the Empress, we're kind of a punk band, I guess.
I'm pretty sure everyone in this house except for Nate is in the 20-24 age range-, he's like 15 or something.
Everyone in the house likes the same music, Green Day, My Chemical Romance, Blink-182, Nirvana, The Ramones, Rancid, Fall Out Boy, Panic! At the Disco, Sleeping With Sirens, Pierce the Veil, You Me At Six, etc. which makes living with seven people slightly tolerable.

"Viv," Tyler whispered, pressing the End Call button on his phone, "you'll never believe this." I raised a brow at his statement. "We're touring with Green Day, first of the two opening acts."
My jaw dropped, waves swam up and down my spine as my eyes widened. "You're shitting me."
"Nope," he reassured me. "It's us, Green Day, and some band called All Time Low." He shrugged. "Are you psyched?"
"Hell yeah!" I jumped up and hugged him. "Go tell the rest of the band, I'm going to go up to the attic and scream out of joy." I laughed, trotting towards the pull-out stairs from the ceiling.