takes a bit more • matthew healy

xxvi.) drunk

little by little, i'm slowly beginning to not trust myself with anything. anything at all.

i'm getting bad again, but i don't want anyone to know that of course. everyone seems to be doing alright with their lives. why the fuck would i stop that flow? who the fuck am i, honestly? that's just something a prick would do.

way before i had met rhiannon, i had been warned before about the possibility of me acquiring addiction. i think my mum had said it, but at this point i've totally forgotten. frankly i think it's because she had her own share of something so personal and scary during her time—it's not my story to tell, so i'll leave it at that.

my thoughts are slowly eating me alive and i do not know how to respond with that. it's just that the tour and the noise and the pressure and the fans and rhiannon and gabriella and the drugs and everything else just keeps on distracting me from what really matters.

it's slowly making me mad, honestly.

the show tonight in glusburn is getting a bit blurry.

i hate myself for that. for taking a show for granted. as if this hasn't been my dream in so fucking long.

of course i won't let the boys know that i am out of it currently.. i just continue to chug on my wine and let that do the talking onstage. everyone seems to like it, really. from the looks on their faces, nobody can sense that something is wrong.

i'm starting to think that nobody really actually knows who i am; they are merely only falling for the facade i put up. the angsty, fucked up, black-clad bad boy.

nobody really actually knows that i am truly fucked up, but for all the wrong reasons.

we've just finished fallingforyou, and at this point i'm feeling a bit drunk and all i can hear are cheers that just translate to good fucking job for getting drunk on stage, matty! you are so hot! i love you! fuck me! take another swig!

"shush." i say. and they cheer some more, and it's hurting my eardrums, like nails being scratched on a board. "shush, shush." and after awhile, i say, "i'm drunk, glusburn."

laughter echoes in the entire venue. i think i might just fucking cry.

"now don't go screaming your heads off, i might just fucking faint right in front of you." i continue to drag my feet around the stage, just trying to talk my thoughts out. "you know, we've been a band for ten years."

the audience just fucking roars.

i take a swig from the almost-empty bottle of wine. "and it's like... you know... it's a fucking mad rollercoaster ride to say the least. we, as a band—and as complete individuals—we went through so fucking much. imagine talking about wet dreams at fifteen, then start doing a shit ton of drugs at twenty. it's fucking insane."

"i love you!" someone shouts from a distance. do you, really?

i walk towards the end bit of the stage before sitting down at the edge. "i love you too. stop shouting." i drag a hand across my face. it's become quite of a habit now—i feel like it's what i do when i feel like it's getting too much. "what i'm trying to say, glusburn... we... all four of us—excluding john, of course, we've met the lad in our early 20s and he's been the saxophonist we never thought we actually needed." fucking hell, healy, stop talking too much. "we've been together through every fucking thing, big or small or anything in between. and i love them for that."

i honestly don't know where i am going with this, and i see my girlfriend in the front row smiling at me as if urging me to go on, but i feel like fucking crying at this point now because it's all getting to me.