Hey, Cruel World - (Marilyn Manson)

I Recall A Time Of Purity, Though I Can't See You Today

  I pulled the zipper of my last suitcase around the top edge and sealed off the last of its opening. I got to my feet and pulled it up after me, placing it in sitting position beside me, and pulled out the extendable handle on the top of it. I took a deep breath, letting my chest and shoulders both rise and fall, and dropped my hand from the handle. I slowly walked over to the wall beside the bedroom door, and stared at the picture that hung there. It was of the five of us, Marilyn, Twiggy, Ginger, Zim, and me in the studio, recording the last album. Underneath it hung another picture in the same parted frame of us again, but this time, it was from the actual album artwork. I stared at Zim's face, and wondered...I wondered, as I looked into his eyes, frozen in the moment, as we both smiled ahead at the camera, if he had known at the very time that he wouldn't even be around before the tour started. And there I was, sitting there beside him, happy as ever to be where I was, and with who I was with.

  On the same wall, but other side of the bedroom and closet doors to my left, was the large, glass frame that held my original CD inside it. We'd each received one, and Marilyn, Twiggy, and Ginger had taken each of their own to their houses. I'd left mine in the apartment because it'd become more of a home over the many last months than Marilyn's home had been, and I thought it'd look better in the apartment than in my bedroom at Marilyn's. Zim's, of course, was no where to be found, so he'd obviously taken it with him.

  I walked over to our side of the bed and stood in front of the radio. I looked back over my shoulder at the open closet doors, revealing not very much stuff inside it, other than the clothes we wouldn't take, and Zim's guitar. I still had not touched it, and neither had any of the guys. No one had mentioned that it was still in the closet, that Zim hadn't taken it, and we'd all silently agreed to leave it where it sat, the last position that Zim had placed it in. I looked back down at the radio and slowly turned it up to hear, 'I Don't Want to Miss a Thing' by Aerosmith, about halfway through the song. It was the song Zim and I had danced to late that night on my birthday, and I couldn't stand to listen to it, so reluctantly, I switched the radio off. I looked down at where we'd laid together, so many nights, and brushed my hand over the length of the edge of the bed all the way down as I walked back over to my suitcase. I took the handle and pulled it beside me and out of the bedroom door, looking back one last time before shutting the door after me.

  From the bathroom next to our bedroom on the left, to the hallways, to the kitchen and the living room through the door on my right, I drug my suitcase behind me. Every bit of it, I was beginning to miss already. Sure, I was looking forward to the tour with both excitement and nerves, but I knew how homesick I would become as soon as we left. I loved it here, everything about it, and most of the memories it held. It was such a plain apartment, of which no one one would guess a rockstar and his band lived in, and I supposed that was why I loved it so much. That, or the fact that it was the only true home I'd ever had, with my only real family.

  I opened the front door and pulled my suitcase out onto the always deserted balcony, the looked back for one last glance of the apartment living room. I saw myself a million different times in that second: Twiggy hugging me after I was confronted by "him," lying on the couch and having Zim come to announce the two of us were going out, watching Jawbreaker while laying with Zim on the couch, dancing to Aerosmith, getting drunk and playing drinking games when Laney came over...but I knew I would be back soon enough, and I snapped the door shut, leaving the images in my mind.

  I pulled my suitcase across the balcony and down the tall flight of stairs, then over to Twiggy's car where I loaded it in with the rest of the suitcases. Mine filled the last space left in his little trunk, all of our suitcases being split between Marilyn, Twiggy, Ginger, and Laney's cars. She was over by the back of Ginger's car, talking with Ginger and Twiggy about the way we were all getting to where the band's private jet resided.