My head remains a spinning mess and somehow makes me both numb and anxious at the same time, but I'm used to lying about my condition and pretend I've simply remained tired from our arrival when we all gather at the venue the next morning after a group breakfast at the hotel I missed because 'I slept late'.
Today's schedule is being discussed, everything important talked through, everyone is aware of their tasks and I just sit there with my lips attached to my cup of black coffee until they've finished and we get to work.
While everyone from the merch team is setting up the booth at the entrance and the technicians take care of everything regarding the sound, lightning, wires and everything else we'll need on stage, our tour manager Jon speaks to the photographer, my band mates spend their time with their instruments and I'm supposed to prepare for the sound check, but smoke one cigarette after another instead and get refills from the coffee machine in the staff room.
The club is spacious, clean, stocked with modern equipment and the small backstage area is comfortable and offers everything one needs, but the owners haven't bothered to turn on the radiators since no normal person would consider that necessary because people always sweat like pigs when the shows take place, but January is freezing in the state of New York and my several thick layers of clothing can't protect me from causing my teeth to chatter if I stop pacing around like a zoo animal.
Desperate to warm up, I even think about asking for a blanket, but that would be too weird, so I just keep inspecting the variety of tour posters from different bands, music genres and years that they've plastered all the walls with and look for people on the pictures that I've seen live or met with before.
It's brutally boring, but still better than spending my time with social media or, even worse, other human beings in front of me, and when someone yells my name for the long awaited sound check on the almost completely set up stage shortly before noon, I'm filled with an unsettling combination of relief and sickness.
As always, a couple of fanatic kids with too much money on their hands bought overpriced VIP packages, so after sunset with a line outside filling the entire sidewalk down the street, the security guards pick up the ones with the especially expensive tickets, guide them inside first and we take pictures with them and sign the valueless posters and other merch stuff they've been given and will be required to pick up at the exit after the show if they don't want to watch us play with a bunch of junk in their hands.
Ashley flirts with the girls because his genitals never take a break and don't notice the clearly visible black X marks on the hands that prove he's getting it on with underage kids and I join the rest of my band mates who have taken on the duty of small talking to shy teens whose hormones have somehow twisted them to a point where their brains have begun to believe we're the right people to idolize and look up to.
Once those kids have received their exclusive time with us and the rest is allowed to get inside, we return to the backstage area and the others are thrilled to hear we're sold out, but it's irrelevant to me and after pretending I'm happy to finally play again, I lock myself in the dressing room I'm glad to have all to myself and work out instead of applying makeup because there is no way for me to hide my pale and sunken features that resemble a drug addict anyway.
Dressed in my usual skinny jeans that look rather baggy and a large band shirt because even I will sweat during the performance, I leave the room after a look into the mirror to reassure me that my appearance is horrible and make my way to the small space right behind the stage where the others are already waiting for me with the anticipation lighting up their eyes while mine must look dull and vacant again.
The crowd is already chanting our names and sounds excited and heated outside, but while that seems to fill the musicians in front of me with joy and energy, I'm nauseous, trembling and dizzy.
But that's nothing new or surprising, so I swallow my fear and speak the usual lies when asked if I'm alright.
"Are you sure?" Ashley reassures himself and I nod hastily, but as enchanted as they all look, I spot the annoying worry too.
"We can get a few more minutes if you need them," CC suggests and I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes and give him a cheap smile with my chapped pale lips instead.
"Thanks, but I'm just still really exhausted and the awful weather has given me a cold. That's all. It's nothing serious, I swear," I promise as dishonest as possible.
"Okay, but we'll get you something from a pharmacy tomorrow, alright?" Jinxx proclaims more motherly than most mothers and even though that's absolutely unnecessary and wouldn't be able to fix any of the issues I'm really struggling with, I agree to shut him up and they all seem pleased with that.
"Can you still do a shot?" Jake wants to know while pouring liquor into small glasses because that's been our pre show ritual ever since our first headlining tour in 2009, but doctor Jinxx shakes his head for me.
"He really shouldn't drink," he speaks for me and I wrinkle my forehead because he's acting like he has the right to make this decision for me, but don't say anything because I can't consume the calories and don't want any fights, so Jake shrugs and simply claims two of the tiny glasses for himself after carefully handing out the rest to Jinxx, Ashley and CC and giving the bottle to the guy securing this area with the typical intimidating attitude, stern mimics, frozen movements and a body that could beat someone into a coma with a single punch.
They do the traditional toast, spit on the floor because CC is superstitious and believes that's necessary for good luck and before I can add something, someone from the sound engineering already hands out the activated headsets, gives us a thumbs up and we get the confirmation from everyone from the team who is already in their spots and speaking through the devices in our ears.
Taking the last deep breath while fixing hair and clothes, we all reassuringly look at each other, smile, do high fives like middle school students because it's what we do, I try to wordlessly convince myself I can do this without fainting and with my stomach tied in knots, someone tears back the curtain and I'm the last of the band to step outside and face the screaming crowd that greets us with more ecstasy and euphoria than I ever remember sensing.
Letting my eyes trail through the rows of countless faceless silhouettes of screaming teenagers while taking my spot and starting the usual introduction I'm required to give about how glad and happy we are to be here tonight with so many fans of ours, I can only pray to the nonexistent gods that I'll make it through this set.
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Killing Joke - Eighties
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These Demons
FanficWhile motivating his fans with inspirational quotes and meaningful lyrics, Andy has secretly been battling mental disorders and managed to successfully hide them from the world to not destroy the image of the great idol. But then he meets a girl who...
