The Jesus of Suburbia

Boulevard of Broken Dreams

It didn't matter where I go, people judge me. I may not look like I care but when a girl across the airport stares at you with a look of unfiltered disgust, it would bother anyone.

I looked down at my Blink 182 shirt for a moment and then back up at the girl, meeting her eyes.

She flinched and looked down.

I roll my eyes and sit down in my terminal where I'm supposed to wait. It's shocking that I got through security, honestly.

It wasn't that I got through without a few looks of suspicion. Luck is the only reason I'm not in juvenile prison right now. As long as they don't go through my criminal record, I can probably travel anywhere.

The problem was getting a skateboard, electric guitar, amp, an eyebrow piercing, snakebite and earrings through.

I'm hell for a metal detector.

Today I'm headed for California for the first time in my life to meet an adopted father that I've idolized since I was twelve.

I'd been rethinking everything over the past four days since I'd agreed to go.

Part of me is excited and the other half just wants a cigarette. I tap my foot impatiently against the sterilized carpet and look up at the lady who will eventually ask us to board.

She does after a few torturously long minutes and I stand up to hand her my ticket. After a weird look she scans it. "Your seat will be 14B."

I don't respond and walk onto the plane with my hands stuffed in my pockets. I didn't bring a carry on.

It's impossible to sleep on a plane, I learned. To my left was a women with a baby and on the left was some retro hipster who was apparently too anti-social to meet my eyes.

He just kept looking at his book on something boring like philosophy while the women on my left was trying to quiet down that idiotic baby.

Eventually I pulled out my phone and earbuds, plugging both of them out.

I put my playlist on shuffle, the first song being "Boulevard of Broken Dreams."

I'd always envied his voice, his ability to play guitar that easily.

I leaned back in my seat and closed my black-lined eyes, trying to get some sleep. Unfortunately, it didn't come.