I'm Looking Through You // Mclennon

loneliness

I couldn't sleep.
I stared up at the ceiling of the hotel room with my hands folded across my stomach. It felt like there was heavy weights placed upon my chest, yet I felt completely hollow inside all at the same time. My eyes were stained from the tears I had shed, as well.

Though eventually, the sun was rising upon the horizon of the already booming city. It was only 7 in the morning, yet hundreds of people flooded the streets. As the sun and sky got brighter and brighter, I shut the blinds and crawled back into bed. John's mattress was so much softer and more comfortable. This one felt like harsh stone beneath me in comparison. Like a bed of nails, maybe. The covers were thin and without him resting up on me, the loneliness shrouded the room pretty thickly.
I don't even want to imagine what the Hell those two are up to right about now. Probably burning all the shit I left there and dancing on the ashes, huh?

What honestly hurts me the most, is the fact that John did nothing to stop me from heading out that door. He just stood beside that witch, meanwhile, there I was: nearly sobbing. I didn't even leave with a disguise on or anything, I just went. Now that I'm thinking about it, that was pretty dumb of me. I'm surprised no one got me on film leaving that dreadful place. Maybe they did. Who knows? Like I fucking care, after all.

I risked so much for an ex. An ex who also has a wife, just as I do. Not to mention the fact that I've got kids at home! He has a family too, you know? He put so much on the line and for what? To leave us back at square one? I should've just stayed at home and let those stupid thoughts and dreams about John eat me alive! I'd be less hurt, atleast! I mean, the point of me coming here in the first place was to finally make peace with my past, but that has proved to be impossible.

     There is no happy ending to this story. I'm sorry. Not everyone gets a happy ending.

Ah, here we are again with the crying. The tears flooded down my cheeks and no matter how hard I tried to wipe them away, more would begin raining down from my tired eye sockets.

What the fuck happened to the John I knew years ago? The kid I used to skip classes and write music with? The man who had a real good head on his shoulders with confidence you could see. He's a shell of what he used to be, that's what! Yoko's bloody drained him of his sense of... everything! In some ways, his personality has done a 180°.

But I know better. John's inside there and I can tell.

There's no hope of resurfacing that beautiful boy, though, I know it. He's deeply in love with Yoko and she knows it, too.
Unfortunately, I know it. I've got to keep him off my mind if I want to feel any better. I've got to realize that he's beyond saving at this rate. Beyond hope. I've tried so many times to keep this all together, but it's useless. I know that.

I turned over towards the old lamp next to my bed and tugged on the little string to turn it off. I stared for a bit at the wall next to me before shutting my eyes, in hope of getting some type of sleep. Honestly, I wish I could just sleep forever after all of this shit.

But alas, hours upon hours passed before I woke up again. My eyes were glued shut due to the crying I had done, but I managed to get up. I headed for the washroom and ran cold water over my pale face and wiped off with a towel. The same thoughts from before began to infiltrate my head already, but I can't let it get to me.

If I wanna get over this, i've gotta distract myself, or atleast try to at the very least. So... i'll go on a walk. It's nearly 4 o' clock in the afternoon, now, so I'd be daft if I don't wear a disguise.

Oh, well!

I left the hotel and began to walk down the crowded streets. With just a few steps in, it didn't take too long before someone recognized me.

  A nice, young lady gasped and her mouth opened widely upon seeing me on the same pavement as her. Her face brightened up more and more as she approached me.

"Are you? ...Are you Paul McCartney?!" She asked quite loudly.

I put my index finger against my own lip as to politely tell her to shut the fuck up, "In the flesh!" I whispered.

"Gosh, I had so many pictures of you on my wall when I was a teenager, and to meet you?! It's an honor! Can you... Can you sign something for me?" She asked in a shakey, excited tone.

I know exactly what John would say right about now: "Nope. I'm just the same as you, you don't need my bloody autograph." Or some other type of thinly veiled, hippy-esque bullshite.

Jeez, so much for distracting myself from thinking of him.

But I smiled and took a pen that she oh-so conveniently had on her before writing out my name across a sheet of paper.

"Th- Thank you!" She said before walking passed me. I smiled as she walked off, swaying her beautiful blonde hair.

Blonde hair. Just like Linda's. Shit!

Not only am I upset about John kicking me to the curb, but now i'm guilty as all hell by what I did to Linda. My wife. I cheated on her.

"Dontthinkaboutit. Dontthinkaboutit. Dontthinkaboutit." I muttered to myself as I shuffled quickly down the sidewalk.

I eventually was back at the park John and I visited together a bit ago. Music was being played by locals and I sat there enjoying it by myself, secluded from the large crowd infront of me. I sat down on the grass and stared up at the sunny sky. There was a couple of clouds, but it was still relatively gorgeous out. After a bit of being there, I decided I might as well get something to eat while i'm out.

I ain't no local either, though, so the only place I know of is that restaurant John took me to. I can't bare to step in that place ever again. It's pretty much tainted forever, now.

It always comes full circle back to John around here, huh?! I can't escape it. I can't win. This whole situation is like tug of war or something. If I truly want to heal, i'd ring Linda and take the next plane out of this city. Maybe I will!

This walk pretty much just turned into me getting upset yet again and then going back to my hotel. A waste of time. That's what this whole trip has been.

So... I walked back and flopped upon my bed. This endless, repeating cycle is eating me alive! This ain't healthy!

Then, my phone started ringing. I didn't tell anyone I was staying here at Arthouse, so who can it be?

I answered reluctantly, "...Ello?"

John's voice was heard from the phone, striking me in the chest like a knife, "Ey, ye left yer stuff 'ere... Want me to bring it ova'?"

My eyes teared up just from hearing his raspy, yet soothing voice. "How did ye know I was here, Lennon?"

"Ye told me ye'd be stayin' at Arthouse if not wi' me, ye git. Now, do ye want this shit or not?"

I was hesitant in replying. I don't really think I can handle seeing his face again.

"Don't worry abou' it." I hung up the call and the line went dead.