Forbidden (Punk Luke Hemmings)

thirty eight

// luke

“Mum? Dad?”

-

I stared blankly at the two painfully familiar figures only inches away from me. Never, in a million years did I think that I would see them again. Yet here they were. It wasn’t just by chance either; I hadn’t just awkwardly stumbled across the two of them at the shops. They were here by choice, they were here to see me!

A weight I hadn’t even realised was on my shoulders in the first place, had been lifted. All this time I had completely pushed the thought of them away, including any kind of emotions I had felt towards them. All this time I hadn’t even realised how much I had fucking missed the two of them. How much I needed them both in my life. I had always taken for granted how much they had done for me — back when things were good, especially mum. She had always believed in me, she was always encouraging me to follow my dreams (which was being in a band). She was such an amazing, hard-working mum. I took advantage of that too much. And my dad, God, he was the most amazing dad I could ever ask for. He was my best friend, and I looked up to him so much. 

Even when everything was falling apart; in the beginning of it all, they both stood by me as long as they could. But with everything; there was a time when it became to much. Too much of anything is too much. I couldn’t blame them for finally having enough of my shit, and drawing the line — turning their backs on me. I was a fucking horrible son, and just a horrible person in general for the things I did, and I will never, ever blame my parents for turning their backs on me when it all happened. But ever since they had turned their backs on me, when they left me all in the dark, I had been so caught up and distracted in everything else around me — the drugs, the alcohol, the girls, that not once had I even considered paying attention to the feelings I was feeling deep down. And when I say deep down, I mean deep, deep mother fucking down. 

When I had finally come to see that my family had actually given the fuck up on me, it was as if I became an emotionless robot. 

I didn’t even laugh anymore, unless you count a heartless, dry chuckle as a laugh. I didn’t cry. I guess everything had happened so fucking fast that it was too hard for me to accept, to come to terms with all at once — so I took the easy way out. I decided not to. I pushed it all fucking miles away and decided not to deal with it. I refused to feel any kind of emotion apart from lust. That’s all that mattered to me. Sex. 

Oh and of course, let’s not forget my mighty fucking temper that I developed! Anyone in their right mind knows that bottling up your feelings usually leads to anger, and since I had done that for so fucking long, of course I was going to get angry. And easily at that.

I got into so many fucking fights, broke so many fucking bones. 

I hadn’t even realised at that time the pain I was putting the few people that still cared about me through. I was constantly getting angry at the boys and arguing with them, I guess you take out shit on the people who you care about most. That’s one of the most fucked up things ever, right? But it still happens. I mean put it this way, if you had a shitty day at school, you’re genuinely going to go home and take it out on a family member. Why? Because they’re going to easily forgive you, and deep down you know that. You’d rather have a minor argument with your mum then lose a friend because you snapped at them. And I guess that’s why I was taking majority of my issues out on the boys, even Alex at times. But that still didn’t stop me from throwing multiple punches at a drunken stranger at the pub because they had pissed me off.

I had so much fucking anger boiling inside me and there was no way around it, anyone that came near me was sure to cop some of it on the chin.

I was like a ticking time bomb.