I caught myself
I’m forcing myself to write. It’s like this fear in me to start again. My mind has been such a blurry haze ever since last Thursday. It was like this 360 that shook up everything. I finally got a mac, and I finally got in the band.
Not that I was dying to. It was more of a confidence thing. I’d walk in the studio and hang out with the boys anyways cause their studio was colder than the one of the younger girls. They were just loud and… girly. I was never the girly girl. Most of my friends are boys, and I fit in easier with them. Maybe it’s the easy attention I get, maybe cause they’re just more real and easy to get along with. That’s beside the point though.
Last Thursday, rehearsals went by so quickly. It felt like we’ve known each other for more than the past brief three introductions we had. I know that as I entered the studio the girls in the other room were eyeing me and listening as I sang along, like I was supposed to, with your riffs and drum patterns. You were all nice, that even when I’d make a mistake you’d just smile and say it’s ok. Maybe I came off a bit strong with my standoffish attitude, but I think that’s what makes you guys not treat me like how you make fun of the other girls too. You all had a smile and you guys talked like normal guy stuff, I’d laugh along.
There’s just something about musicians. I think I’ve always had a thing for them. All the other ones had to play something, or at least be very well inclined in music. Guitarists in particular. Yeah, I know, I’m a sucker for hopeless romantics. Not as much as rockers. I think it’s my dad’s fault. They say every man ends up marrying his own mother. I guess it’s the same thing.
So it was unexpected. I caught myself following your riffs to find myself better in the music, because you were lead and I was just the singer. I was amazed by your fingers and smile. You acted much older than everyone else. I’ve never quite had many friends my age either. The next day, rehearsal dragged on for an hour, you were still not there, I caught myself, to my disgust, waiting for you and growing upset as minutes flew by. You showed up, drenched in rain. And so, it went on, and another one was scheduled the next day.
Of course, I could’ve found my way there, just as much as I could’ve found a way to the gig. I had to play the game, get you to get my number, pick me up. That’s not the problem.
So you picked me up, we talked on the way there and back, despite everyone else’s presence. Everytime I moved, I just know it, you were keeping an eye on me. Maybe because I’m new, and that everyone else is just way too annoying to entertain any of you guys and hold a proper conversation. Maybe I just amuse you… Most probably.
I hope it stayed there. At that level. I really hope it did.
Why did you have to look at me everytime you made a mistake? Even when you’re on stage and I’m waiting for my cue? Why do you have to crack private band jokes and tell me that it’s my job to tell you when your solo is when you’re playing for another group?
I try to kill these butterflies; I seriously apologize for you Facebook profile’s rape. I’ve been there more than my own these past five days.
The thing is, I’m in love. With someone else. And you’re not looking for anything serious, you even told us backstage as a conversation starter. You kissed a girl the other night. Yet I find myself upset and selfishly wanting her to climb in a hole and wait until her braces come off and she learns to put makeup properly. Till she grows up, that little girl. I feel like a cougar, you’re two years younger than me, and God only knows how old that child is.
I’m insane. I know it. I’ve got to have lost it.
For the first time, when he asked me if I still loved him as a joke, I looked him in the eye and said yes, although a small part of me didn’t want to say it.
I know this is going way out of hand, because I’ve only spent the past four days with you more than my own boyfriend. I know I’m putting way more meaning into everything. Like I always do.
It just sucks that I know nothing can happen, because I’m comfortable where I am, in my other world. Because I know it’s just two worlds I can’t bring together. And because you’re not what I want. Not what I want want.
You’re just a phase.
You’re just a phase.
You’re just a face…
I’m secretly excited for next Thursday’s rehearsals.
