Band On The Run

My Mistakes Were Made For You

“It’s a ballad,” I told him, not meeting his eyes. That should be enough for him, right?

There was a pause. “Do you need any help with it?”

That was enough to have my head moving so fast I felt the crick in my neck. I couldn’t help the wide eyed look that I gave him, and I had to swallow the ball of panic in my throat. I didn’t exactly understand what was causing this reaction in me. He was just offering to help with a song; it shouldn’t be a big deal. We were both musicians, after all.

Oh, but it was, it really was a big deal, at least to me.

“No, I’m okay,” I assured him, trying to act as if fright wasn’t coursing through my veins. I believed my tone betrayed me though, I even heard the tension in it.

“Okay,” he said without a fight, his expression not changing. Had he been expecting my refusal? It couldn’t very well be surprising, could it? We’d been together for years, both working musicians and songwriters yet not once had he helped with a chord nor a note of a song of mine.

“Well, we’ve got to head out; we’re supposed to be in the studio in about an hour or so,” he added.

The moment those words were out of his mouth, all I wanted to do was groan. It was already time to head into the studio? I thought that I’d be able to catch some form of a nap before that. Dammit, I really needed to get a clock for this room; I was horrible at keeping track of time at my best moments. And after the session at the studio, I had to head down to the club to play a full concert.

All the sudden the obligations I had came crashing down upon me. How was I even supposed to survive this? The amount of things I had on my plate was truly incredible; it would be a miracle if I didn’t burn out in the middle of it. What kind of person took on this amount of work willingly?

I was still on tour, even though I got to stay home during it, I still played two or three gigs a week and rehearsed with my band on at the very least two more days when we didn’t have shows. I was producing an album that wasn’t turning out to be too easy, it was emotionally draining and even more time consuming than normal as I tried to pry some music out of them that I would be proud to have my name on it. I was doing interviews as a solo artist that Mark had planned for publicity. I was trying to write music for my next album that Robert was breathing down my neck about. I was doing publicity gigs with The Spares that were proving to be time consuming as well. Soon I’d have to factor in rehearsal time with those boys as well, because we couldn’t go on without it. And not to mention I was about to sink a fortune into a lawsuit it was very probably I wouldn’t win, almost certain in fact. That wasn’t even talking about all the personal shit that was going on in my life.

Even if everything that was going on wasn’t destroying me emotionally, the stress of it all would be enough to bring any person down to their knees. How was I supposed to be creatively prolific with all of this going on? I was beginning to think I was disposed to anxiety attacks, because as I thought about all of this going on, it was getting tough to manage the usual unconscious motion of breathing and I had to focus my mind on inhale then exhale as I started to feel the air in my throat depleting.

I was about to step into a whirlwind. It wasn’t like I had the option to step away, either, because it would just sweep me up with it whatever my choice in the matter.

It was going to be a miracle if I could function by the end.

I don’t even think I had time to sleep anymore.

“Hey,” murmured Nick kindly, regaining my attention from the introverted places that I had turned to. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Slowly, I nodded as I looked into those comforting soft brown eyes. That was all I needed to make my breathing slow and easy once again. In a stray thought that sprinted across my mind, I couldn’t help but think that Nick was like weed; he helped calm me down and think sanely while Seth was like cocaine; he had me spinning out in an uncontrollable confusion of racing heartbeats and rapid fire where it was hard to remember the functions of breathing.