[AustinCarlile] Live Forever

[AustinCarlile] Live Forever [ChapterThree]

Author's Note:
I hate writing these things and I'm sure no one really wants to read them, but I know that it isn't the best. Stay with me, I promise you it will get better. They have to become friends first before she opens up to him. And if you hadn't noticed, it's still day one of Warped.

“We debated for a really long time about this, about whether or not we’re going to slow things down for Warped Tour. It took a while to make a decision; we fought a lot about this actually, about what it means to us to play it, what we think it means to fans for us to play it, what it would mean at Warped Tour if we play it. But, then, then we sort of realized that this is our set, and this is our music, and that it’s one of our most popular songs, and that the lyrics mean a lot more to us than some people are able to understand.

“We don’t write lyrics simply to write them, to make up a story and pretend that’s the type of life we live. I didn’t choose to live the life that this song is telling, I was given this life, the guys were given a life like this, and I know some of you – the people standing next to you, the people in the mosh pit, the ones singing along to every song – were given this life, too. And you’re strong, you're strong enough to take back control, because you made it to today, and I want you to make it, I want you to wake up every single day and know that you're not alone. So, with that being said, I want the people who know the words to sing along, and I want everyone in the crowd to join my family, because you’re wanted, you will be missed, and don’t ever second guess your chance at happiness.”

Inhaling slowly, I run a hand through my hair, the sun shining brightly, harshly, the temperature rising, the clouds disappearing, and all I can see is the sea of people standing in front of the stage, everyone cheering, loudly, their hands up in the air, like they know what song we’re about to perform, which I suppose they do, it makes sense. We met a lot of them, spent at least two hours sitting in plastic, uncomfortable chairs, talking, taking pictures, sharing stories, laughing, crying, even when the infuriated staff attempted to move the line along quickly, that’s not us, that’s never been us, we like to talk, we like to learn, we like to make memories.

Sitting down on the stool placed in front of the piano – a simple keyboard because no one wanted to lug around a true piano, not to every venue, not on and off the stage – I smile softly, loving this feeling, loving the connection, loving how every single person in the crowd is now a family, a family based off of music, something that brings people together and provides an escape, provides a friend that knows every emotion.

“There must be something I could say. And if I never wake again, remember me just as I’m breathing before you, the same as all along. I’ll hold you from sorrow; it’s better off this way. And if I die tomorrow, what of me follows you forever? Unforgiven sins and all that lies beneath my skin, and all these things I never told you. There must be something I could say. And if I never wake again, remember me just as I'm breathing before you, the same as all along. Here I am, in color, no lust or glamor or gold. I hope you’d remember me dressed in shadows, in black and white to flatter the faulted soul. You never witnessed me unfold. All these things I never told you. There must be something I could say. And if I never wake again, remember me just as I'm breathing before you, the same as all along. There must be something I could say. And if I never wake again, remember me just as I'm breathing before you, the same as all along. The same as all along. The same as all along. The same as all along.”

My fingers stop brushing across the keyboard, the song ending, my ears filling with screams, my vision blurry as the tears cloud my eyes, every single time, every venue, I cannot play this song without wanting to cry, so my emotions, so many memories attached to it. Laughing softly, I wipe a finger under my eye, brushing away the sole tear that managed to escape, biting down on my lower lip as I stand up, running a hand through my hair, sauntering over to the microphone stand that still rests in the front, center, of the stage, waiting for me.