The Get-Go [Ashton Irwin]

11: Get An Apology

Very Minor Trigger warning for mention of a suicide attempt. It'll be marked with bold asterisks (**). Also, I'm not hating on 1D, they're just one of the biggest groups out right now, and with a fanbase as large as theirs, there is bound to be some hostility.

Talk to me if any of you ever need help or are feeling that way, okay? I swear to God, I'm always here for anyone who needs to talk.

<3 Kx

ps. Photo to the side is Dylan Sprouse with a mohawk, who plays Garrett.

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    There are plenty of books and movies where people who are in love monologue about some particular time of day, usually in the middle of the night, and how romantic it is.

    Similarly, as a teenage girl who voluntarily ripped her (metaphorical) heart out of her chest, I can tell you that five o’clock in the morning is the perfect fucking time to hate yourself with the passion of a thousand lust-driven lovers. Even if you're only barely aware of what the hell five o'clock in the morning is (like me), it's still the absolute prime time of day to be disgusted with everything you’ve ever done, from falling asleep on a pillow soaked with tears, to the way your body never seems perfect enough to match the girl modeling five hundred dollar jeans on TV, and even the fact that the only reason you’re not eating an entire fucking tub of ice cream right now is because you’re too damn lazy to get out of bed to get it.

    It’s also the time Ashton chose to send me one last text message: Couldn’t sleep last night. Call me if you want to talk, ok? And then he attached the link to a YouTube video for a song, like always.

    I fucking hate you, Ashton Irwin, I think as I listen to Jesse McCartney crooning at me to ‘take your sweet, sweet time. I’ll be here for you baby, anytime.’

    And okay, maybe I don’t hate him; can’t hate him because I literally do not have the capacity to do so, but goddamn, it’s so fucking frustrating that he has to keep being a sweetheart. Especially after I’ve basically told him I don’t know if I want to keep dating him anymore. Who the fuck does that?

   Ashton Fucking Irwin does.

    There’s a song by the Summer Set which opens with the verse ‘Life goes on, we’ve got all night. If you’ve got rock and roll, you’re gonna be alright.’

    As much as I love them, this is one time where they’re totally fucking wrong. Sure, my life keeps going on around me, and I keep going on around my life. But no matter how many fucking rock songs I listen to, whether they’re hard rock or punk rock or pop rock or glam rock or anything in between, I’m not alright.

   The days blur together even more than they normally do, a repetitive cycle of school, work, crying, and drinking a meal replacement beverage everyday at lunch because Zoe and Brent don’t trust that I’m eating any other time. They aren't totally wrong, either. I just get completely wrapped up in doing something, anything to forget about Ash, and I forget about eating instead.

   "Wyn, it's nine o'clock in the fucking morning!" Zoë whines into the phone. I've been sitting outside her house with the car running for the entire length of Breaking Benjamin's Anthem of the Angels, and about half of Bad Moon Rising, and I'm starting to get pissed.