GOLDWING (ing version)

chapter 22

After a long time, people started to talk to me about the thing that makes me the happiest: my band. Måneskin.

The band was on a break, because of my health condition. I wasn't even allowed to resume a normal life, so going on stage with thousands of people watching were completely crossing those boundaries. But in the midst of so many bad memories, I still remember the first time I played on my bass again.

It had been months ago when I got out of the hospital. Despiting all the restrictions, Dam helped me to hold the bass on my torso. I remember that I collapsed into tears when I realized that I didn't had enough strength to simply vibrate the strings. The band had been on a break for 6 months. We missed a summer full of festivals, including the fucking Rock in Rio. That one we only missed because Damiano refused to bring a replacement bassist. My situation was already a bit exposed to the media, which is unfortunately very inevitable if you are a famous person. And I needed to get back on stage, even if I wasn't strong enough for the pressure and the work that a tour. And why? Because music saved my life, literally.

I was only 15 years old. When my mother died, I was very ill psychologically. I missed a year of school, and I was unable to leave my house. Locked in my room, I found happiness in filling my room with posters, and in listening to music 24 hours a day. I discovered amazing artists, especially women who were in the rock world. And I identified with them a lot because they were claiming the chance to be themselves, in a world consisting of a patriarchal society being part of a side of music that was led by the opposite sex. And every time I thought about giving up, I would look at the posters. Sometimes I would also talk to the moon as if I were talking to them. And for the first time in my life, I found myself in a hospital bed, not having the ability to do what kept my joy of being alive. So, I took a guitar to the rehab clinic. I created lots of melodies, all telling of my withdrawal process. Some were much deeper than others. And there were some that had such a confusing melody that they were very difficult to play. After these compositions had been stored on the voice recorder of my cell phone for months, I decided to show them to someone. It was a Saturday night at Dami's house. We decided at the last minute to have a sleepover since we hadn't talked in ages and Giorgia was out of the country working. I, with my little black, cropped, and he, with a white one.

After many conversations, I picked up a guitar and started to recreate the missing parts of one of the melodies and tried to accompany it with the lyrics I had written.

"Vic, what are you playing?" he asked, curious.

"I'm not just playing. I am telling a story," I answered.

I tried to play those five songs as I knew how to play them, or as I remembered they used to be. The voice and melody recordings weren't very good, so I guess I made up some of the chords too. The next thing I knew, Damiano was crying, right in front of me.

"Vic, this... this is a work of art," he said, wiping his tears.

"I said you're not allowed to cry!"

"Can I sing?"

"Sure, no problem," I answered.

In one whole night, besides putting some touches on the music, he composed a song. A whole song. That's what I call a creativity peak.I was in his kitchen, filling a glass with water for him and another for me. When I came back into the living room, I saw him, with his guitar around his torso.

"Vitto, I think I have created something," he said, a little excited.

"Show me, then," I answered.

"I already have the lyrics, the melody is still a bit lost," he said, sipping his drink.

The first time I heard the melody, I was hypnotized by that sequence of notes. And the lyrics... the lyrics, they were about me. I noticed that.

"What do you think?"

"It's... it's beautiful. Do you already have a name?"

"I was thinking about the last line of the song..."

"The things would be easier if you were sober."

"If you were sober?"

"Exactly, It is a very powerful phrase, and meaningful... I think we already have a name."

After we wrote two more songs, we started discussing the name of our little project, which could make an album.

"We could release this album as a solo... just the two of us," he said.

We were both lying on the soft carpet in the living room, looking up at the ceiling. When I heard what he said, I couldn't believe it.

"I... I had never thought about it."

"Like, they don't know anything."

"They don't even have to know, right?"

"Sure, Vic."

"I don't know, I'm starting to think this was a bad idea."

"Victoria, Vic. Look at me, please," he said, holding my cheek. "I understand you. It can't be easy to stay this long working on a project based on a bad phase. I can give you as much time as you want. When you feel comfortable, we'll start showing it to the public. But until that happens, this artwork will be our thing, ok? Do you want to get some air? Or some more water? Is everything okay?"

He was always a sweetheart when he saw that I was not okay, especially when I had little panic attacks. He was one of the only ones who could calm me down in those moments, and he knew it.

"Yes, he is. It's just a little tightness in my chest."

"Do you want a hug?"

"That shouldn't even be a question," I replied, smiling.

-
hiiii :)
this chapter was another one for introduce all the facts (that's why is smaller), because in 6 months things changed, a lot.

and also if you want to, comment the country where you are reading this♡!

tks for reading <3
mel.