In My Life

I'll be on my way

Halfway through Young Blood, George thrust his guitar at John - who was standing nearest and didn't look too pleased with the two drunkards' shoddy performance - and he had disappeared in the direction of the loo, where he spent the next minutes throwing up. Paul felt more than a little nauseous himself, but that had less to do with alcohol overindulgence than it did with the fear about how John would react to is decision. By the time they were done for the night, Paul was feeling terribly hungover, and George was looking positively miserable. The youngest member of the band disappeared as soon as the last chord was played, and they hadn't seen him again. Pete didn't stick around either, and Paul started to speak the moment he was alone with John, afraid he might lose his nerve if he waited. Now that he was about to tell John about the conclusion he had reached, he hoped John would listen and understand.

***

..."It's doin' me 'head in, John. I love you, but I hate how fucked up it's been between us lately." Paul sank onto the nearest amp and buried his face in his hands. Telling John how he felt was incredibly hard, especially feeling like a construction crew was attempting to drill holes into his skull, and now that the word was out, he felt utterly deflated.

"Hypocrite."

The three syllables sent a violent shiver up Paul's spine. Momentarily forgetting about his hangover, he raised his head to face John. The eyes looking back at him were brimming with something he guessed was anger, but it could be something else. Disappointment, perhaps?

"Now that you're done chinwaggin' about all the stuff I've done wrong, are you also going to mention your own role in all this, Paul?" John brandished an accusing finger at Paul's face. "Christ, do you have any idea how annoying you can be, locking people out all the time? Always hiding behind that fucking Mona Lisa smile when things get personal, always leaving everyone else guessing what you really think."

John shook his head, looking somewhat lost, "You're accusing me of pushing you away? Well, take a good look at yerself, because yer doin' the same fucking thing. I've treated you like shit, you're right, and I'm sorry. But you shut me out completely and that just gets on my tits like you wouldn't believe. I rather have a barney than that indifference of yours."

The room fell silent as Paul tried to wrap his head about what just happened. How did he manage to become the accused all of a sudden? That wasn't how he imagined the conversation to go at all. 'Did you really expect John to cry mea culpa and beg for forgiveness?' A little voice inside his head forced Paul into some introspection. Yes, part of him had hoped that. Usually, Paul was open to whatever his conscience tried to tell him. That moment however, he didn't really feel like listening to his inner voice, even though deep down he knew John had a point. He didn't want to think too much about his own mistakes; he felt too sorry for himself for that.

"I wouldn't have to hide my feelings if you'd take them seriously, would I?" He protested. His conscience be damned, he wasn't going to let this go so easily. "You'll use anything against me, John. Remember my bass, how you were quick to make me feel two feet tall about that? And that's just one example." He blinked back the tears that were prickling behind his eyes. 'Not now,' he thought, 'I've done enough of that today.'

"Besides," he continued, "You've been swervin' on me lately anyroad. Why should I pour my heart out to you when you can't be arsed to spend time with me? You're always hangin' out with the Exis now; when's the last time you even tried to be alone with me? How can you accuse me of shutting you out when you're not even here?"

"Darrafact? And where were you this morning? I was here; even Stu came by to wish you a happy birthday, but you bailed, didn't you? Looks like you and George went on a pretty good bender. Did you even think of me when you pissed off?"