I've Got A Feeling

Freaking Out

I still cannot believe to this day what happened in those events. What words were said, what actions were laid down on the table, and what relationships were killed that day. Within the blink of an eye, everything I had known and built for my life just fragmented and pulverized before me, as biscuits do in scorching Earl Grey. It still hurts like a punch to the face since the day music died. People keep telling me to make amends, but what's the point? I'm living my life, albeit very happily and how it's supposed to, and he's living his with the blonde of his dreams making so-called "art" with all of these "classy" people. I don't need him anyway. I can make music my own way, and I don't give a damn what he thinks. But what if I told you, that isn't the John you're looking at?

July 2, 1961

"You never even thought about, I dunno, TELLING ME FIRST?!" I feel so furious right now, me head feels like it could pop off. "John, I was meaning to tell you for a long time but it never came up." "How long, Stu? How long?!" "E-eight months." This was one of the only times I've ever seen Stu cower like this in my life. His head is down, eyes at the floor, shaking like bloody train tracks. "Well, that just makes it so much better! Doesn't it?!" Stuart came by when I wasn't around and had dropped off his bass guitar, when I came home I almost snapped. He's moving in with Astrid and all his stuff is already there. He's moving in with her and he didn't even have the decency to tell me before he moved his shit?! I could have convinced him not to, but I guess I don't matter to him! I couldn't live with myself if I ever took my frustration out on Paul, so I have to be forward with the person who lit my anger like a match to a candle. That's the difference between Stuart and Paul though. Paul takes it and warns me to never do it again, but Stu throws it right back in me face. It reminds me of home, even if I am living at home. We've been arguing this way our entire lives, it makes me hate him. But despite the fact, it's what made me attracted to him. It feels as if we're two pieces from the same fabric, just sewn differently. I see his cheeks heat up, his body stance change and the fire in his eyes.

"You never liked my playing anyway, so what does it matter?!" "ITS MY FUCKING BAND! I SAY WHO STAYS AND WHO GOES WHEN! YOU'RE NOT LEAVING ME LIKE THIS!" "Well, think of this, John! ITS MY FUCKING LIFE! I DON'T NEED ANY OF THIS BULLSHIT IN MY LIFE AND I MOST CERTAINLY DON'T NEED YOU!" That stung. We joked over the years, all mates do. Granted, it could hurt one person or the other. But we always got through it. When I look towards his face, his eyebrow twitches. I leer into his eyes, and see truth. He never wants to see me again. He means it. No, he doesn't fucking mean it. He needs you, and you need him. He would never mean it, ever. "CONSIDER IT DONE! I don't even know why I wanted to be with you ever."

"Well, I guess that's the difference between love and a fling. Acting out love is what a fling is." I could feel the tears stinging my eyes as it got harder to see the figure of my bassist. Or should I say ex-bassist? My lip starts to quiver, cursing myself mentally for fumbling over my words. "Y-You, no. You said that y-you, y-you l-loved me." "See, that's the thing, John. Sometimes I say things, that I don't really mean." He began to walk away but I grabbed onto his wrist, squeezing it tightly trying to get him to stop lying. Then he shot at me once more with the fire of an inferno. "Let's get one thing straight, Johnny-" "Don't- EVER, call me that." "Let's get one thing straight. I am, and yer not. I never loved you like that and I never will, fucking tart." I could feel the temperature of my blood skyrocket to boiling as I forced my fist into his jaw. I could see plasma eject from ripped back skin, which is now caught on my ring.

"SODDING LIAR, YER AN ARSE AND ALWAYS HAVE BEEN ONE! HERE'S YOUR JACKET BACK BECAUSE APPARENTLY I MEAN NOTHING TO YOU! I HOPE YOU HAVE A HAPPY LIFE WITH ASTRID WHILE IT LASTS BECAUSE SHE WON'T PUT UP WITH YER BULLSHIT!"

Even after his face took a beating, he still had the tenacity to rise up in my face and utter a melody. "Be careful what you tell people, the friend you have today could become yer enemy tomorrow." I've had enough. Of his bullshit, his wit, his face. He sickens me with every single fiber of my being. I grab him by the shirt and ram his body up against the wall, our faces nearly millimeters apart. I can feel his breath on my skin, as he stares at me with fright. I don't even have to say anything. The look in my eyes says it all and he knows it well. I wanted to slug his face one more time for punching and threatening my other mates over the years, for hurting me.