Tales From the Dragon Cave

Polaroid • D a n

a/n: The next four chapters are going to be quite dark - mostly for Dan =( - because I find the next four songs on the album quite dark, lyrically. Sorry if it seems a bit repetitive or depressing.

There's something oddly satisfying about name-calling myself to a melody that sounds like a nursery rhyme. It feels like a middle finger to all the kids who picked on me when I was young because guess what? I agree with you.

Except I'm a bit more specific because I've had to live with myself this long and I know every little thing wrong with me. Every habit and trait and mistake. Everything.

I look through the glass at the other three, none of whom look happy. Ben looks sort of frustrated and sad at the same time, Platz looks a bit nervous and Wayne's giving me his sad, sympathetic face which I hate because it means I'm being depressing again. My shoulders droop involuntarily and my eyes drop to the floor. I can't look at him when I'm making him sad, the guilt is overwhelming. I know I'm not disappointing him but there must be annoyance somewhere, there must be some sense of here we go again and the thought of that makes me sick.

But I'm not even sad today, I'm really not. Waking up to nearly freezing rain in a desert is always a nice change. Plus, this puts me in a good mood. In sort of a weird, self-loathing way, but still. It feels good to sing it all out, to feel like I'm telling the truth. Being honest about what a messed up freak I am. Not covering it up and pretending to be better than I am. There's nothing good in me. And I can say that, because I keep it under the cover of a song and it's just expressing myself and that's acceptable. So I'm okay. I am.

I'm fine.

I look at the other guys one more time and find all their lips moving. They're talking to me, but of course the wall is soundproof so I can't hear them. They must not want me to hear. Why don't they want me to hear? I can't help but think they're making fun of me even though logically I know they never would. That's something else stupid about me, I can't even trust my best friends that they're not thinking about how pathetic I am.

As I keep singing I notice they're not talking, they're yelling and I hate being yelled at so I look down at my lyric sheet instead, ignoring the hurt in me.

I'm a first class letdown...I'm a shut-up sit-down...

Well that's not helping anymore. Can you hurt yourself verbally? Because I think I am. The good feeling goes away and I'm hit by a staggering sadness. A few seconds pass and I realize I stopped singing. I'm just staring down at the lyrics, my brain unable to control my voice.

Slowly, I lift my head to look at the others, who are all staring at me.

"Sorry," I finally manage.

Wordlessly, they start the song over again and I redo it, the words starting to get to me. I was angry at myself the night I wrote this, I remember. Angry because I mess everything up and because she's so perfect and they're so perfect and yet they still love me and they shouldn't. Angry because they love me so much and I know that and it still doesn't make me happy.

And so I close my eyes and sing with a slightly mocking tone, bullying myself with the aggression that kids did in middle school and trying to feel the satisfaction I felt earlier. Nothing. At the end of the song I turn and leave, not really caring what they've been yelling at me. It's something bad. It must be. They got tired of pretending to like me or they're sick of me constantly needing love or reassurance every other fucking second or they're just expressing their true feelings they've had for six years and telling me that they actually do hate me.

When I reach the door at the end of the hall, I step outside and let my lungs fill with fresh, rainy air. Well, Vegas air. So mildly fresh. It calms me a little bit, the burning anger in my mind simmering down as the rain pours down on me. I briefly wonder if the others will follow me, then remind myself that if I wanted them to, I shouldn't have left.

I cause my own pain. Every time.

My brain is fogging again. The faint sounds of car engines and the tapping of rain on pavement sound muffled, drowned out by the irritating drone of the same old negativity in my head. They were laughing at you. Or they were angry at you. They know they could never leave you now, that's the only reason they stay. Every single time they tell you they care they're lying. They think you're pathetic and weak. You are pathetic and weak. Someday they'll come to their senses and you'll be all alone and then what will you do? Huh?

I'm shivering now from the rainwater soaking me. A clap of thunder makes me jump and suddenly I can't tell what the wetness on my face is from. What if you just stayed here until your lips turn blue...

Stop thinking like that.

But what would happen...

Shut up.

But-

Someone shut me up.

Someone save me.

Lightning illuminates the sky again and I wait for the thunder to come. The door opens and closes behind me and I decide the footsteps are Wayne's.

"Stop trying," I say, not facing him. "I'm worthless."

I feel his arms wrap around me, giving me a bit of relief from the cold, and as the thunder finally roars again he leans up and whispers what I now realize he's been shouting all day.

"No you're not."

You are the opera, always on time and in tune...