“Had I been that dead all this time? When was it that I lost everything, had lost that edge that made everyone love every little thing that I created? When had I even stopped creating music altogether?” I thought as I walked back to my hotel room after the press conference. Most of the questions consisted of those damn journalists
asking about when I planned to finally write another song. I hadn’t realized that it had been nearly a year since I had written something.
“Jesus Christ…” I said out loud as I caught sight of all the girls that loved me for my looks and not my music, crying out for autographs they knew I would never give to the likes of them.
I shook my head in pity for the poor creatures of conformity being held back by policemen. They didn’t love me for my music or my guitar playing, they loved me because Carson Daily told them to. I should never have hired that agent in the beginning. I had long since fired that incompetent ass because I had found out that he had put me on that sellout channel called MTV.
As I opened my room with one of those damned credit card-like keys, I tried to remember what went wrong in my life that had brought me to such meaningless career.
When I got into my suite with the overly elaborate wallpaper and the fucking plush carpet, I heard the sound of someone taking a bath in what was supposed to be my bathtub for the time being.
“Bloody hell…when will these girls learn that they can’t do this every time I leave my fucking room?” The thought briefly flashed through my head about calling security, but I decided that I’d rather confront the poor girl and explain why she can’t do this.
I slowly climbed the stairs to my bathroom and opened the door. My senses were immediately filled with steam the smelled of sugar and spice and everything nice…AKA: girl.
“Get your fucking ass outa my tub.” I said, not actually meaning to sound so scary.
“Aw, but I just got in…” Came a sing-songy, British accented voice.
“Look, lady, I’m not in the mood for your antics, I just want to be alone right now, so just leave.”
“I would, but I’m pretty sure you don’t actually want me to leave.”
As some steam cleared, I caught sight of this wacko. My breath caught in my throat. She was extremely beautiful with shocking, green eyes that were sparkling with apparent mirth. Her hair was brown with bright red and blue highlights that made her stand out, not that she needed the extra attention.
‘Ugh’ I thought. ‘Another one of these cocky, beautiful chicks.’
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said as if she actually did know what I was thinking. “’Oh, great, another groupie trying to get laid by some famous guy…’”
“Although you have great intuition, you still have to go.”
“Listen to yourself! You used to be all about having fun and living life to it’s fullest! Now you’re telling an obviously hot girl who you think wants to have sex with you to leave your tub where she’s sitting naked taking a bath!” She yelled suddenly. “This is why you haven’t written anything in almost a year. You’re too fucking melancholy. You used to be in it for the music, now you’re all about the industry.”
I gasped as I took in everything she had just said to me. I remembered being happy and having a great time playing at small, packed barns and coffee houses with all of my loyal, friends/fans cheering for me not caring whether I played a wrong note or if I messed up with the words. They loved me because I was fun and I could write songs that came from my own head and not songs that were messed around with by producers and people who thought the lyrics were ‘too crude for the public’s ears’.
I realized that I had been standing there, staring at this girl who had just saved my life for a long time. I walked up to her, bent down and kissed her.
“Thank you.” I whispered in her ear.
When I pulled away, she was smiling at me.
“I look forward to some original music from you.” She said and stood up and got dressed and walked out of my life forever.
I looked around me and just smiled. I didn’t need any of this anymore.
I grabbed my guitar and some of the clothes my agent didn’t allow me to wear in public and walked out and got into an elevator, not bothering to remember the key.
“Where have you been?!” My agent asked me. “There are hundreds of girls out there that want your autograph!”
“Please, do me a favor and go fuck yourself.” I said with a hint of amusement in my voice.
I walked out of the hotel leaving him dumbstruck. Too bad I couldn’t see his face since all the girls were blocking my view. Luckily they didn’t recognize me without my preppy clothes on.
I got into a cab and started on my journey home. I couldn’t help but wonder who that girl was. I knew I would never see her again and that thought saddened me, but I was still grateful. I couldn’t wait to see my friends again.