Frequencies [UNDER HEAVY EDITING]

October 10th '1

Exhilaration, I thought to myself, that was what it was. Music was blaring, lights were flashing, and just like every other Friday night, I was right in the centre of it. Adrenaline was flowing through my veins like white hot oil and my feet couldn't quite stand still.

On stage, everything was different, I could be different. Performing gave me such a kick, and time and time again I was grateful for the chance to be there.

Call me an adrenaline junkie but I loved being here, raised high above the crowd and yet everything I did was to please them - my ever moving, ever changing audience. Getting people to love my music was one of the things I lived for, but it was not something I would never tell everyone, even if they would ever be bothered to listen.

When the first notes of the next song bursted out of the expensive speakers of the club, the crowd exploded in cheers and started jumping to the heavy beat. I smiled and let the music wash over me. My fingers played the strings of my old electric guitar almost on automatic pilot and, putting a well practiced stage smile on my face, I set in the first line of the song.

Our setlist for the night mainly contained of old hits, well known songs that nearly everyone was capable of singing along to. Well, except for love songs though. We had deliberately left those out, most of them too mellow for our band anyway.

Starting to jump around on the stage during the instrumental solos, I tried to hype up the crowd even more than they already were, feeling the electricity run over and under my skin. Yes, exhilaration probably was the right word for it.

The last notes vibrated from the speakers, my fingers playing the last strings, and then it was silent.

It wasn't actually silent, I that knew people were clapping - I could see them from the corner of my eye- but I didn't really hear them anymore. During the last moments of the song, my gaze had strayed haywire and was now stuck on a pair of bright blue eyes in the middle of the crowd.

I couldn't fully see him, overshadowed by the lights and squashed between the crowd, but for a strange reason, it felt like I was looking straight into the mirror. Maybe it was because of the fact that the colour of his eyes resembled mine so completely, hues of blue and silver dancing in the flashing lights, but to me it felt like it had more to do with the way he was looking at me.

Like he knew me.

Like he knew about all of my problems and like he could tear down every single wall I had build in the past years to protect myself and it frightened me to the bone. No one knew the whole story and I would never let anyone get close enough to find out. Especially not a stranger in a crowd full of people.

I looked away quickly, careful to make sure that I kept my face steady, smiling and happy. I'd gotten quite good at that over the years, putting on a stage persona, pretending to be happy, even when I wasn't. Knowing that no one, except for perhaps that boy in the crowd, had gotten even a glimpse of my real emotions, I tightened my grip on the microphone and thanked the crowd for their applause. While I started to tell them that we had one last song in store for them, James already fired up the beat, the air vibrating again.

I willed my mind free of the boy. Fuck him and his ability to make me feel like this. I had no clue who he was, and I would try my hardest to make sure I would never know him either.

Around two o'clock, the club was about to close and we started to wrap up our performance. People were turning around, ready to leave and the dancefloor was slowly becoming more and more empty.

"That was insane," Paul claimed as they walked off stage, taking a sip from his abused water bottle. The plastic was cracked and dented from gripping it too hard and by the slight oval form, I could tell it had probably even been accidentally sat on at some point. Why he hadn't replaced it was over my head and I couldn't help but mentally count the days that he had been using it.