paper crown (been rewritten better under the name "Wonderwall - mclennon")

chapter two

  "Thank You! YEAH! You guys ready for the next song? it's off our new album and it's called HELP! ONE TWO THREE FOUR."

  We all jumped into the next song as John announced it. Hearing the crowd around is roar as we did so. The overall hype and energy distracted me from the pain I was experiencing in my stomach from not eating all day. Which I was of course great full for. I hadn't lost anything the previous night so I wasn't going to eat today in hopes it'll go down tonight. If it doesn't then I don't know what to do. It seems like no matter how hard I try I'll always be fat. The wight just clings to it.

  "Paul, you're missing your beat."

  George whispered in my ear. Pulling me out if thought. I immediately shifted my attention to my bass. Hoping none of the screaming teens or reporters had picked up on my lack of skills.
  The band wouldn't really notice. Well care if I missed a beat. I mean, with the concerts going on 3 or more hours (including the breaks) into the early hours of the morning it isn't to unusual that we slip up a few times towards to end. They know how much work we've done today.

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  Great show tonight boys! Brian and George congratulated us as they swung the door of the back stage changing rooms open. Revealing three half dressed boys, me not included.
  I had gotten changed in the toilets. Sparing my three band mates from my fat thighs and chubby stomach. I mean if I wanted to throw up every time I saw it surely they would as well.

  I mean I'm being considerate here.

  "Thanks eppy!"

  John almost yelled as he patted him on the back. The adrenaline from the concert obviously hadn't worn off him yet.

  "It's ok John. Hey guys, early night tonight because we're setting off back to Liverpool again ok? We're staying in another hotel closer to the airport tonight since we're leaving early. There's not many beds though so you all have partner up and share!"

  Eppy explained before him and George swiftly left the room. Probably so they wouldn't be caught up in complaining if any where to arise. We normally didn't mind sharing beds. Well they did. I hated it.

  Sharing beds meant it would be harder to go and wiegh myself. Meaning I will most likely have to wait till we're back in Liverpool to do it. Meaning more anxiety about not knowing how much I wiegh.
  Plus sharing a bed would mean whoever I share with, probably John, will have to see my fat as things since I sleep in boxers and a shirt. Also, if he cuddles up to me, which he sometimes does, he's going to feel all the fucking fat on me.

He'll be sick!

  This is going to be a long fucking night.