Catching Feelings | Bwwm

10 | Carsen

My morning consisted of a photoshoot followed by a radio interview. Posing and smiling for the cameras wasn't as fun as it used to be. I remember my very first photoshoot. I just turned fifteen and Basil set up for me to have an entire page in a magazine dedicated to me and my first single. I was a nobody back then, just a young kid salivating for the chance to be somebody. I remember being so full of energy when I got to the set. I've always loved attention and imagining girls all over the world with my pictures on their wall... that's every fifteen year old boy's dream. But now photo shoots just made me feel disgusted with myself. More than once my fans have made it clear that they only care about my appearance. I made the mistake of dying my hair dark brown and everyone flipped their shit. Seriously, back to back I got told if I didn't change it back they would stop supporting me. I never experienced anything like it. From that moment on I had to run every decision about my looks to my label.

Until I turned eighteen and said fuck everyone's opinion.

The radio interview was short. We mostly talked about my upcoming album and the latest single I dropped three weeks ago. They asked about my tour but I was very tight lipped about the whole production. My day was typical, things I do on weekly basis, but since it was the twenty-sixth the day seemed to have dragged by slowly, draining me little by little with every minute that passed until I was able to be alone.

At home I sat out on the balcony of my bedroom. My hands gripping the glass railing tightly as I over looked my view. Besides the seclusion, the view is what sold me on the house. It was almost as if you could see the entire city. Mountaintops and lush and towering trees that stretched up to sky surrounded me. It was beautiful. I tilt my head towards the sun, closing my eyes as I revel in its warmth.

Warmth. Peace. Silence. All things most people take for granted. Like I used to. But when your life is of one of a cage animal you tend to appreciate the little things like looking up at the clouds. It's a nice break from the cameras and phones being shoved in my face.

I open my eyes, staring out for a beat longer before letting out a sigh. No matter how many times I let myself relive the moment, it always broke me to know that I let the world get the best of me until I felt like I had enough. Like I had no one to turn to. No one to understand me. I reach into my pocket and pull out the yellow piece of paper I pulled out from a notepad that day. It's torn and worn showing the number of times I've folded and refolded the piece of paper. I unfold it again and I see my handwriting and hear my voice as I read the words I once wrote. I let it all sink in. The weight of pretending to be okay lifts from my shoulders as I let out the frustration and pain I'd been holding in all day.

By the time I collect myself enough to get something to eat my dad is sitting on the couch watching a football game. The volume is muted which is why I didn't hear him come in or realize that there was someone in my house. I was starting to regret giving my parents keys to my house if they were just going to come whenever they felt like it. It has been an emotionally long day and I know my dad sees it when he takes one look at my face.

"What's up with you?" He asks as he raises from the couch. "I've been trying to reach you all day."

"It's the twenty-six. You know I go off the radar for a few hours to think about what I almost did, everything that I would've lost." I explained to him.

"It's been a year son. You can't keep reliving that day. It's not healthy."

"Why do you think it should be easy for me to act like I didn't try to kill myself? I almost took away my own life dad. I can't just pretend that I didn't attempt suicide. Sorry if that messes up your image of being the best father in the world." My dad didn't understand how I ran every possible solution through my head over and over again about how to handle the stress I was under. I never thought I'd consider taking my own life but at the time it felt like the only solution. I went through a dark phase while I battled with what to do. It would be so easy... a blade to the heart, just a few pills, a leap off my balcony. And every time I had that thought I banished it the only way I thought would help. Drugs. Not just any kind either. The hard stuff. A joint here, three-four bottles of vodka there. Anything to make me numb and take away the pain.

And it made me do dumb things. Like drag racing, getting into fights. The media caught it all and my parents got the short end of the stick as much as I did. Everyone blamed them for not raising me right, for letting me have my way just because I was famous. They were bad parents in the eyes of everyone outside looking in.

"I can't understand it because I didn't raise you to be weak. To take the coward way out. If things were hard you should've sucked your teeth and keep moving. But no, you stomped your feet, stood in place and wailed like a baby until someone gave you the attention you sought." My dad hissed.

"It's called a cry for help. I was hurting and you didn't do a damn thing to help me. You knew what I was going through- hell the whole fucking world knew and you enabled me, drove me deeper into the darkness instead of pushing me towards the light."

"I backed the hell up and let you do you. I tried to get you back on the straight and narrow but you didn't want my help."

"You should've tried harder!" I yell.

"Boys!" My mother voice booms over the room and I turn my head towards the sound, startled that she was even here. "That's enough." She softens her tone. "Your father didn't come here to yell at you or point fingers. We're here because your grandparents invited us to dinner and we thought you'd like to join us. It's been a while since we were all together."

"I don't feel like going out." I tell her.

"It wasn't an option sweetie." She erases the space between us and plants a kiss on my cheek. It didn't matter how old I got I would never disrespect my mother. So even though eating at my grandparent's was the last thing I felt like doing, I found myself nodding my head in agreement. "Wear a tie." She adds before walking off.

I meet my father's gaze and we stare at each other a beat longer before he settles back down into the couch and turns the volume up on the tv.

With nothing left to say, I turn around and march back up to my room. My phone is on the bed where I tossed it once I got home from the radio interview. I pick it up and dial Nixon's number. He picks up after the second ring.

"Hey, what's up bro?"

"Folks are forcing me to do dinner with my grandparents. You want to join?" I ask. There was no way I getting through this dinner without my best-friend.

"Your mom just invited me so yeah, I'll be there."

"Thanks man. I don't know how I was gonna get through all that without you." I admit.

"No problem. You know I'm always there for you when you need me."

"Yeah, I know." I run my a hand over my face.

"So how was it today?"

"Same ole. Same ole." I answer. "I just got into it with my old man. He acts like he's the victim in all of this."

"Sorry man. I know y'all relationship became strained because of all of this."

"It's cool. He'll get over it eventually." I say.

"What about you?" Nixon wonders and I quiet down, thinking about my answer.

"Not there yet."

"You will be though. Just keep your head up until then." Nixon advises. "I'm gonna go get ready. I'll see you in a bit."

"See you." I reply before the both of us hang up. I sit there in bed a little while longer before trudging towards my closet to pick out what I'm gonna wear. I lay out the pants and shirt I decide on and start to make my way towards the bathroom for a quick shower but stop and grab another item of clothing and lay it next to my clothes.

Almost forgot the tie.