on tour || DNF

❥2 | dread

♡︎george's pov♡︎

TW:
drugs

The simple idea of needing to be perfect was insisted in my mind since I was little. I was encouraged to make honour roll, to win awards, to be likeable, to dress nicely, to be a team captain, to be good enough for others.

While these are good things, this mindset slowly becomes unhealthy.

As I grew older and discovered who I truly want to be I had this idea forced into my mind of that's 'generally acceptable'. and that if i was to step out of this comfort zone I should feel guilt and shame towards myself.

I stopped trying to be perfect for other people, but mainly for myself. I started to do what I found love and comfort in, music.

The reality is that in the long run no one will care what you do with your life and if you 'embarrass' yourself it's fine, everyone will forget about it.

To avoid the feeling of being embarrassed is to not care what others think of you. Embarrassment is the paranoia of knowing that everyone else around you is having mocking thoughts of you, the trick is to not make yourself paranoid about it so you don't feel embarrassed. That's what I do.

When mine and the bands fame started to rise, So did the publics expectations of normalisation, That's when I gave up on trying. well not exactly.

The moment I gave up on keeping my public image safe was the second I was offered my first little pill of molly in a underground nightclub, it was a little green one with a smile printed on it, most of the pills had some dumb little appetising childish image on them.

We found out last week that the 'serious phone call' Wilbur was on was actually an arrangement for a tour with another band, apparently him and Niki have been working on it a lot for a while without telling me, Tubbo, or Tommy.

Now we are on a flight to North Carolina to start it.

No matter how hard I protested I couldn't get out of a tour around America, at end of the day work is work. I had to cancel all of my frats for the next few months which broke my heart but it wasn't end of the word.

The coldness of the glass rubbed against my forehead, it felt painful as the cold burned into my head but at the same time it soothed my migraine from the other day that faintly lingered.

I'm so glad that I got the window seat, Niki gets slightly sick and Tommy wanted to sit closer to Tubbo and Wilbur who were sat on the row beside us, the isle spilt them apart.

I felt nauseous and tired, not because of lack of sleep or the plane. I wasn't scared of the plane itself I was more scared of my withdrawals. Methadone helps with withdrawals and Wilbur insisted I started taking that but it just means I have to reach out for help to get it. I refuse to do that.

My issue so I have to solve it on my own.

Beside me, Tommy and Niki were playing gin rummy, they always played that when we were on planes to gigs and most of the time I joined but I didn't feel like it this time.

I played with the fishnet that hugged my thighs, they were too tight around the top of my legs and printed little outlines of the diamonds in a raw red mark.

As the trolley with the foods on passed I cursed at myself for not bringing much cash in my carry on, I could really do with some champagne or something just so something was in my system, even if it was something as little as a sip of alcohol.

But, I managed to distract myself by watching Niki and Tommy's game, after all it was a long flight we had ahead of us, London to North Carolina.

By the end of the game Niki won, it was extremely close though and got me on the end of my seat, they were quickly placing down cards desperate for victory.