The Illusion Of Progress

All Lit Up Again

I knew was I being unreasonable but I couldn't stop myself. I wanted to hurt her. I honestly didn't even know why. It annoyed me that she wouldn't return my calls or texts. I was Demi fucking Lovato, you didn't just blow me off. I shoved my hands in my pockets as I walked away from the club and felt a rather large object in the left one. I pulled it out and frowned. It was a disposable camera.

I continued walking until I came across a CVS. I went inside and took the camera over to the one hour photo center. I was curious what I would find on the film. I had a pretty good idea, Selena and our impromptu photo shoot in the dressing room. I wandered around until the film was developed. The store was pretty much empty so no one bothered me.

The pictures made me smile. She was so incredibly fucking hot. It was effortless. As I went through the photos I noticed something else. The pictures with me in them were complete and utter happiness. We both looked happy. We looked like we belonged together. There was one in particular that really stood out. She was laughing and our forheads were touching. It was right after I'd kissed her up against the wall. My eyes were closed and her arms were folded around my neck.

I felt a tightness in my chest as a continued to look at the photos. I left the CVS with the pictures tucked in my pocket. As I walked my mind kept drifting to them. When I finally couldn't take it anymore, I pulled them out and found the one with her smiling at me, held it up and snapped a picture of it with my phone. I sent it to her and captioned it.

11:35pm: Still think you don't need me?

After I sent the text I put the phone up to my ear and waited for an answer on the other end.

"Hello."

"Gas up the jet. I'm going to Vegas." I said before hanging up.

I needed to blow off a little steam. Vegas seemed like the perfect place.

I arrived at the airport only to have a million cameras shoved in my face. It never seemed to matter how or when I flew, paps were ways tipped off. Here lately the tabloids had been privy to a lot of my shenanigans, more so than usual anyway. True to form, I was uncooperative and aggressive toward them. They were fucking roaches.

It took about about an hour for the rest of my entourage to join me on the tarmac. Once the plane was up in the air, the drugs and alcohol flowed freely. I was completely fucking bombed by the time we landed in Vegas. We deplaned and climbed into a limo. Everyone was already being unruly and loud. I opened the during and stood up so the top part of body was outside the vehicle. I stretched out my arms and howled into the night.

The rest of the night was blur. Strippers, more drugs than my body had room for, and enough alcohol to impair a small army. I ended stumbling out of a club as the sun came up with a cigarette hanging from my lips. I kept trying to light it, but I wasn't having any luck. It took me a minute to figure out I had it turned the wrong way. I turned it around a struck another match.

Once I had it lit, I pulled out my cellphone and checked to see if Selena had responded. She didn't. I found myself becoming aggravated. I stared at the phone screen and fought the urge to throw it against the pavement.

***

I woke up to find a couple a texts from Nick reminding we had studio time booked today. I checked the time on my silver Rolex and breathed a sigh of relief, I still about an hour to kill. I scrolled over Selena's name in my messages and let out a disappointed sigh. She'd seen the text but she didn't respond. It was probably best that she didn't. I wanted to fight with her.

I reluctantly climbed out of bed and took a quick shower. The hot water and steam felt good as it opened up my pores allowing all the shit I'd put in my body the night before to escape. It was all just and endless cycle. I got maybe five hours of sleep. I turned off the water and stepped onto the cold tile. I reached up and wiped the mirror and stared at the reflection.