I fall apart' ~ Post Malone

04.

With my borrowed bicycle, I cycled through Los Angeles. I was on my way to my meeting with the rest of the crew and, most important of all, the artist. Had I not been full of grief now, I would have been quite curious. But now, I didn't care. The only good thing about this whole thing was that I could sing. Singing as a job, singing to forget my problems. Singing was the only thing where you could express all your feelings, where you could leave reality behind and let yourself go in your song. I managed to put my feelings aside and focus on the meeting. Yet my hard mask was just a poorly built construction. It could collapse at any time. It only needed one punch. Even though I was against makeup, I had a shallow layer on my face. Most of the ramparts were so invisible that they would also avoid the weird looks and questions. Of course, everyone would dismiss me if I said I was Austin's ex because I wouldn't have been in magazines like all the others. Our relationship hadn't been that long. One month. A month he had behaved well; he had told me sweet talk.

I was standing in front of a small cafe. It looked cheerful, and it got colors with bright colors like yellow and red. It stood out among the corporate houses and shops, making it just as fun. A broad-built, brown man stood at the door. He looked straight ahead and didn't seem to see me. I took a few steps towards the door, and when I tried to open it, the man's hand suddenly swung out. He handheld mine, and he looked at me intently. "What do you think you're going to do?" "Uh, I-I should be here... uh." I stammered. The man looked at me from under his sunglasses and judged me.

"Madison Pierce?" he asked then. "The one and only," I said with a false smile on my face. He nodded briefly and made a vague gesture to tell me to go in. I ended up in a small room where a few other girls talked. Nobody was there yet. Their chatter faded when I came in, and they turned one by one to look at me. There was a moment of silent staring until one of the girls walked over to me. Her figure was perfect, and her blonde hair was straight. The other two girls followed at a distance. They were both brunettes and looked at me shyly. They seemed like the followers, while the blonde girl was the "boss." I was already annoyed by the three.

"Tiffany." The girl said, bars in a Barbie-like tone. "Madison," I said, shaking her hand. She pointed behind her and said, "That's Jessica and Heather." I smiled briefly at them and turned my attention back to Tiffany. "And what are you doing here?" she asked in a bossy tone. "I've come to sing." It was my blunt answer before I walked to a chair and plopped down on it. She shouldn't think I was going to listen to her. I was here to work, not to make friends. And certainly not to become a follower of some tut.

"When will he come now!" The trio, which I had renamed the bitches club, had been whining about some famous young singer for fifteen minutes straight. I couldn't hear them because they were sighing and bawling more than neatly worded sentences. I was still sitting on my chair, looking around, bored. I quickly glanced at my watch and rolled my eyes. Whoever that guy was, I already started to dislike him. He was already half an hour late. I stared at the other girls and analyzed their behavior for a while to conclude that I would never be friends with them. They were almost the opposite of me. Everything about them radiated Barbie. I chuckled softly at that reasoning, and the three girls turned around. They gave me a weird look, and Tiffany wanted to say something, but before she could do it, the door opened.

***

With my legs drawn up, I was in the toilet room. My arms cramped around my body, which was frantically shaking. It had been a race, but I could have held up my mask long enough before I collapsed. It was strange how your life can change in 5 minutes, and your most prominent dream becomes your worst nightmare. Now I was sitting here—at least ten minutes in the toilet. Sobbing so hard, it must have been a miracle if no one had heard. I didn't care. As if he was not yet doing enough, he also sabotaged my singing career. It was as if he just wanted to destroy me. Who knows, that was his intention. You never knew with him. I felt the anger that took over my body, and my hands were no longer lifeless against my body. They screwed to fists, and I could swear that if I looked at his face now, my eyes could see spitfire. I got out of the toilet and walked to the sink. I stared intently at my reflection and tried to put everything aside—everything outside of anger. My attempt was only partially successful. I turned on the tap and poured some cold water on my face. It didn't help as all that happened was that the makeup disappeared, and everything I tried to hide was visible. The circles under my eyes looked even worse than before, and my eyes were also red-rimmed by the many tears. It contrasted very much with my pale, unhealthy skin. I sighed and decided it didn't matter much. It wasn't as if they wouldn't see me like that in those three months. It would be a miracle if they didn't see me like that. I walked out of the toilet with a stabbing pain in my heart. 

Ready to hit my face even more.