Lonely People

Do You Want To Know A Secret?

It is difficult to see clearly when you have the entire weight of the world on your shoulders. Your vision becomes blurry and things don't seem to make as much sense as they used to. When you have a secret as deadly as a knife and as heavy as the world, sometimes you just want to crumble beneath it, but you have to remain strong. The relationships you have with other people help you remain strong, but you begin to question even those. Later on, you look back and you ask yourself why. Why would you question a friend whom you know would never turn their back on you?

As I said, when you have a secret as heavy as the relationships between Molly and me, your vision is blinded. Borders are blurred and relationships questioned. You're left wondering who in life you truly trust. Some you trust without a doubt, others you question even when there was nothing to question.

Almost everyone I cared about knew about Molly and me. Paul, George, Ringo, Janice, Ellen, and even Brian. My father and my other brother didn't know, but I knew I would tell Michael eventually. Dad would be less than tolerant. We already had enough issues, I didn't want something else.

That left John. Of all the people in this world I'm close to, John was near the top. Sometimes I think I was closer to him than Janice, and I lived with Janice. My heart yearned to tell him, but my brain said otherwise. I remembered all of the queer jokes he made and all the times he made a derogatory comment. My mind told me he wouldn't accept me. If I told him, I would lose him, and I thought hiding would be better than losing him. My heart, however, thought differently. 

"Something wrong?" Molly asked, interrupting my consciousness.

I glanced up at her. The two of us were alone in the hotel room, since Janice had gone off to have dinner with Peter. Half-eaten pasta sat abandoned on the table near us with open soda cans. Molly sat with her guitar in her lap, strumming a few chords to a new song we were working on. I had borrowed Janice's guitar and was playing right along with her.

"Nothin', Mols, just thinking," I replied.

Molly frowned, "You've got that look in your eyes."

"What look?"

"Like you have glass eyeballs. You get that look every time you're thinking of something that's bothering you."

I shrugged, "How can you tell? One of my eyes is still swollen."

"Ah, but I can sense it."

She abandoned her guitar on the floor and crawled to sit next to me. I watched her for a moment. She grabbed Janice's guitar from my grip and placed it next to hers. She grabbed my hands and smiled at me, "Want to talk about it?"

"It's not a big deal," I replied, "Just the tour and all, it's a bit stressful."

"This doesn't have anything to do with you getting trampled, does it?"

She was sitting in between my open legs, just close enough to where I could feel her breath against my face. I smiled, "I'm planning how I'm gonna fight them next time."

"Melly, you can't beat up the fans."

"Why not? They did it to me."

"They didn't mean to," Molly replied, "They got excited, is all, they didn't know what they were doing."

I frowned, "Seemed like they knew well enough."

"You know just as well as I do that there's nothing we can do about it."

"I can be ready to go out with fists flying."

"Melly, please."

She gazed at me with a stern glare. Finally, I sighed, "Alright, alright, fine, I won't hit the wankers."