The way your bunk is too tight and you feel like you can’t breathe. The way it’s too dark, but too light at the same time and everything’s too loud.
The way you think of the fans who yell out ‘I love you,’ and the rest scream out ‘go fuck yourself’. The way you couldn’t care less.
The way you yell back words meant for them, but they just think you’re angry at some unimportant person. The way they think that unimportant person was an ex.
The way they think that ex was a fuck buddy. The way they think that a fuck buddy was your goddamn bassist. The way you laugh ‘cause the bitter words you hiss out on stage is for them.
The way it’s all a ruse. The way that some are true. The way you yell out the words ‘you always thought you were everything, holy fuck you thought so wrong’.
The way they think you don’t give a shit. The way you do, and don’t. The way your reputation is something you give into, but individuals can kiss your ass.
The way you always drink too much whiskey, but who cares. The way your breathe constantly reeks of cigarettes, and the fans, they romanticize it. They write into their stories, untrue.
The way you always end up kissing someone, despite what you are. The way you dream of being who they think you are. The way you don’t let them know who you really are.
The way you love faking a smile, saving someone.
The way you love how much it hurts.