Chasing Butterflies- Ryden

❀ 11 ✿

--Brendon--

There's a certain feeling you get whenever you hear your favourite song on the radio by your favourite band. Well, I get this feeling. I know that you can listen to the song on YouTube through your headphones, but when its on the radio, its like everyone listening to that same station will listen to it with you.

When you listen to music through your headphones by yourself, you're the only person listening to that same exact song at that same exact time. You're the only one who got the sudden urge to listen to it. You didn't ask someone to listen to it with you. You just listen to the song, trapped in your own little world.

When you hear the song on the radio, its surprising. You're sitting in the car, flipping through the stations, and you hear the song. You'll probably say, "Holy shit! That's my favourite song on the radio!" And you'll probably drive, tapping your fingers against the steering wheel, singing along to the song. There's some type of significance when you know people are listening to your favourite song with you, at the same exact time on the same exact station. But you're not anywhere near them. The song is chosen to be played by someone you don't even know, and thats what has me thinking.

There's times where you can have a good time with people you don't even know, and that's probably when you're at a party. Champagne, cocaine, and gasoline is what has everyone in a good mood. You'll probably dance away to your favourite song, but you most likely won't remember that night if you're not sober.

And then there's times where you're sitting with your friends or family, and you start playing your favourite song out loud. Your family will probably say, "What the hell is this junk that you listen to?" But your friends will probably say its a good song or that its a weird song.

Music has been around since forever. And thats why I want to make music myself. I want people to remember me when I'm dead and they'll say, "Hey, wasn't that the guy who was in Panic! At The Disco? They wrote good songs." or "Remember Brendon Urie? Man, that dude had some of the best vocals I've ever heard."

I want to be remembered. I don't want to live my life to the best it can be and then be forgotten.

I scribble down lyrics onto my notebook. I'm writing a song I'd like to call 'The Only Difference Between Matyrdom and Suicide Is Press Coverage.'

--Ryan--

My mom doesn't like the chocolate coloured beans. She says they look old and gross, and that we should only put the beige coloured beans in the bowl. So here I am, spending my Saturday night with my mom, sorting beans on how they look.

I scoop up a handful of smooth beige beans and dump them in the blue bowl as my mom fills the metal pot with water. Easter Sunday is the only day of the whole entire year that we go to church. My mom always volunteers to make the beans, and I always ask her why doesn't she just give them canned beans. She gets those weird hard beans in the plastic bags.

She always says that she wants to brag to the other moms that she can cook better than them, and its true. Last Easter, a lady named Grace had made mashed potatoes, and we all got food poisoning. Like, how do you get food poisoning from mashed potatoes?

"Take those chocolate coloured beans out, would you?" She says, pointing to two dark beans in the bowl.

"Mom, stop being so bean-racist." I say, taking the beans out and putting them off to the side.

She laughs, "I don't want anyone getting poisoned by the beans. You saw how everyone was sick after Grace Urie made those disgusting mashed potatoes."

"Urie?" I ask, "Mom, Grace is Brendon's mom. You're insulting my future mother-in-law."

She turns and looks at me with a puzzling look on her face. I realized that I just let the words slip.