J o s h u a D u n [size=17pt]♘[/size]
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[justify][font=arial][size=8][color=black]I knew I broke my wrist, otherwise it wouldn't hurt so fudging bad. Even if I had sprained it, I wouldn't be able to do anything with my left hand. But broken? That took way longer to heal than a sprain. Great. Just great. If I was luckier, I wouldn't have landed so awkwardly, and Tyler and I would have just laughed about it. He probably would have called me an idiot, and we'd act like little kids. That's who we were, on the inside; just little kids. We would always joke around, even if I was just that calm dude whose laugh was even mellow. You could barely ever hear my laugh. It was just a small huff, with a shake of my shoulders. I almost always smiled, and it felt weird not to. It just made me feel like all the happiness in me faded away, and all the other emotions walked right out, and into the open. Swearing just made it worse, but knowing that I couldn't use my hand, when I really needed it? That just made it impossibly worse, and sometimes I just wanted to beat someone up. Everyone had those moments, though, which kind of made me feel a bit better about myself. I was kind of like a sheep in wolf's clothing, yet a wolf in sheep's clothing. I was just half and half; and no, not like the hulk. I wasn't bipolar, I just kept all the feelings and emotions besides happiness and calmness inside. I kept them locked up, but if something bad just had to happen, the cage would fall apart, and those feelings and emotions would be set free. They were deadly, just like a murderer who was locked up in some prison who just happened to escape. When they were set free, it wasn't a matter of life and death, no. It was deadly, in a different way. I'd rather it be a life and death situation.
The thing that was deadly about it, was that I wouldn't think so optimistically. I wouldn't be as happy, and would rarely even fake the tiniest of smiles. My facial expression would either be angry, sad, or a mix of both. Sometimes, it'd even be an expression showing pain. It never happened when I was around Tyler, and I was always around Tyler. That was because he was funny, he smiled and actually laughed, and he was my best friend. Who didn't admire their best friend for their quirks and personality? I just wondered what really went on in that head of his. I knew lots of things about him, obviously, but I didn't know that much. I knew there was much more to him than what I knew; what I saw. I knew he was very unique, he was probably the best song writer/singer ever, and how he could play the piano without any sheet music was amazing. I knew how tall he was, how old he was, what his favorite color was, and what his favorite place to be was. I knew he thought that bus was the worst place to get any rest, that's for sure. Yeah, I knew many, many things about him. I just always wondered what was really going on. Was he hiding something? I mean, everyone had their secrets that they never told, and never will tell, anybody. But he was just... different.
Sometimes I worried about what he thought. Some people thought he was depressed, and some thought he was schizophrenic. I knew for damn sure he was not schizophrenic. I wasn't sure about the whole 'being depressed' thing. We've all been depressed, at one point in our lives, if not more. What if he was depressed now? It really didn't seem like it, with him being so upbeat, happy, and full of life. But, you never knew until you knew. For all I knew, he could be suicidal. That would just break me in two, and I'd go insane. If your best friend had those thoughts, you should already know because you knew them so well. I'm just now thinking about it, though, and if I found out five million years later than I was supposed to, I wouldn't know what I would do. I'd beat myself up some more, but on the inside. I never showed it, unless, you know, I couldn't control any of my thoughts, feelings, or emotions; or expressions. He probably wasn't thinking about it, though. It just didn't seem like it; at all. Maybe he was hiding his real feelings/emotions inside, like me. A lot of people did that, right? They kept it all bottled inside, hiding it from anyone and everyone, trying to keep themselves safe. Safe from what? Safe from torment, even more pain, and help that didn't even help at all, but only made it worse. That's what made me keep everything inside, anyway.
I stared down at the ground, almost like I was shameful. I was just a bit embarrassed, and I wished I had a time machine. I could go back in time and keep myself from ever falling. Maybe if I slowed myself down even more, or just didn't get off the bus at the time I did, I wouldn't have fallen. Or, maybe, if I had stepped outside just before or after Tyler did, everything would have been fine. I didn't believe in destiny, or fate, for that matter. It was stupid, as was karma. Luck was just as stupid, but I counted myself as lucky and unlucky, all the time. If you really knew me, you wouldn't even notice I didn't believe in all of those things. Tyler might take notice in it, but anyone else most likely wouldn't. Too many people judge someone for their cover, and not for their story. That has been said and used too many times, but it is very true, so I couldn't care any less.
Oh god... What would our management do? What would they say? I didn't even know why I was worried about that, with my wrist being broken. I could tell it wasn't my whole hand, which I was grateful for. I just couldn't help but wonder, though, because I was kind of sensitive on the inside. Classic, right? A muscular, tough-looking guy on the cover, a calm, mellow guy for the blob - the back of a book, most of the time - but sensitive on the very inside. I was just a sad, angry story with no luck, even though he didn't believe in it. That sounded stupid, and I didn't think it really fit me. I was supposed to be the cool, calm guy who let Tyler do most of the talking; whose voice was just soft and quiet, but deep and strong at the same time. That's what some other people said, anyway. I wouldn't say that about myself, because it'd just be really weird.
I lifted my head to see the door open, Tyler stepping inside. I trailed behind him, not saying a single word. I didn't feel like doing anything; I didn't even want to sleep. I felt sick to my stomach, and I just needed to sit down and take a break from everything. I rubbed my thumb on the palm of my hand, eyebrows furrowed just a bit. I just stared at it; my hand. I took a deep, silent breath, and let go of the hand after hearing a woman's voice. I looked up at her then over to Tyler, then down at the ground. I kept that hand up to my chest, and ruffled my wet hair. This was one of the worst days of my entire life.
I didn't listen to their little conversation, only taking my left hand back in my right, and continued to rub my thumb on my palm. I gulped silently, not even caring that I was drenched from the piercing rain. I took the ice, almost subconsciously, and just held it. After a few moments, I finally placed it on my wrist, frowning a little. My hand was still numb from wrist to fingertips, but the ice made it feel a bit better; like it was slowly washing away the needles that poked at my skin. My bag's straps fell down to my elbow, making me tilt over a bit. I caught my balance, though, thank the heavens. If I fell again, heaven forbid i'd break my other wrist, and worsen my left. What would be after that? A broken collarbone, or maybe a few shattered ribs? Why not my skull? It's not like I needed any of those things, anyway! I'd rather have a few shattered ribs than a broken wrist. At least I could still drum with only those few ribs shattered. I heard Andy, from Black Veil Brides, shattered a few ribs while performing, but got right back up and continued on with the show. Sure, drumming was way different then singing and walking around, but still. It wouldn't even hurt that bad, anyway.
I followed slowly behind Tyler, not even caring we hadn't taken an elevator. There was obviously a couple in here, but he probably wasn't thinking about it. What was he thinking about? Probably what management would say about all this. I really couldn't care less about what they had to say, at the moment. I just wanted this wrists to heal in a matter of just a few hours, at the most, and I could get back to being me. We wouldn't have to cancel anything, if they did, and everything would be normal.
When I heard his question, I only glanced at him with my eyebrows furrowed. I didn't look up for long, though, looking right back down at my hands. I tried balling my hand into a fist again, but all I could do without it hurting too much was curl my fingers just barely. I just followed Tyler inside the room, knowing where to go because of the glorious thing you called peripheral vision. I instantly dropped my bag next to the bed Tyler wasn't on, shoulders now coming to a rest. I wanted to plop down, too, but I knew it'd hurt my hand even more. Dammit, why?! why did this have to happen? Life just hates me, at times, doesn't it? Mother Nature hates me, too, I guess, and for no good reason. They're just assholes.
I didn't bother taking in the comfortable beds, the bigger bathroom, the t.v., or anything else. I was just... mad. I was too angry at myself and the weather, and at the moment, life. Out of all the times that something bad could have happened, life had to choose now. I couldn't believe it. The thought of food made me want to throw up, and it made me nervous to see such a comfortable bed, and look back at my fudging broken wrist. Even with how comfortable the bed really was, I would definitely not get comfortable, no matter how hard I tried. I'd more than likely get no sleep, and be just plain miserable in the morning. How wonderful. I wondered what else life had in store, this very fine day.
I finally lifted my gaze over to Tyler, expression tired, eyebrows raised. I only shrugged, sitting down on the edge of "my" bed. "Sure," I muttered, just loud enough for him to hear. I put the ice pack to my side, chewing on my cheek. I held the broken wrist, making sure it wouldn't move. I took another deep breath, closing my eyes and tilting my head just a bit to the side. I was tired, but restless, and I was actually really thirsty. But I didn't feel like doing anything, I was so tired. Not only was I just tired; I was tired to rain, wind, slippery grounds, broken bones, bad days, wanting to throw up at just the thought of food, and knowing that I wouldn't be able to sleep. Most of all, though, I was just tired of being tired. It sucked, and I wanted to start the day all over again.
[it. was. PERFECTION. So stop. <3
Oh, I definitely did. But it's kinda hard not to when you haven't met them in person, and kept a good conversation with them. cx And that's okay; it would have been kind of hard if you didn't powerplay a little. everyone's gotta powerplay, sometimes. c:
sorry for this post... *^*]
