Jude's Drunken Confession

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Kids are taught that when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Ever since my eyes opened to the real face of the world around me, this proverb would often hit me with its unexpected sneak-attacks. Truth is fucking annoying but it doesn’t change on anyone’s wishes. Every time I thought I just got enough to open up a lemonade factory, life would hit me with the fact that it wasn’t done yet.

Whether it be a deserting dad, an always disapproving mother, the fucking cannibalistic media or even my own love life, I have always been served lemons by life. No, wait, lemons of my love life are my own fault. And the entire world knows it. It is the one thing that I can never ignore. It is one thing that I don’t even try to ignore. And I may have had a couple of drinks, I am not even tipsy and can fully say that I write this with my head completely functioning.

Yeah, I know I overdid it. Even in this so heavily drunk state that makes me wonder when I will crash, I can see the words reveal how drunk I am. God, this line is so fucking terrible. No wonder Cash always made me camp in the studios for days to work on my lyrics. It’s a good thing I can sing.

Where was I? Oh right, my love life. Well, love life, congratulations for being the main issue on my drunk mind. You probably, no you definitely, are because I saw him today in person. Logan. Logan Harrison. He ignored my existence completely and the indifference was like dumping shitload of salt on the wounds that are still raw. That will forever remain raw. Even after ten years since that summer, the siblings still bring out the dead things from me. Lust. Love. Affection. Guilt. Sadness. Revulsion.


It was all the biggest mistake of my life. I have never really opened up about any of it but since I am going to later burn this anyway, I might as well say it to this shitty piece of paper I am drunkenly babbling on.

Cameron and Logan Harrison. The two brothers who stole me from myself. Wow, that’s cheesy. Anyway, I hated them both. They were everything wrong that the paparazzi loved to criticize us musicians for. I was no saint ever, I still am not, but even I had my limits. They never had any. But you know what they say about liquor. Loosens tongues and numbs minds. Before I knew it, both of these brothers knew quite a lot of my secrets. And all three of us fell. In a mess.

That season’s special was baby-making and parenthood and I would like to shift lots of blame for my mental status to those fucking horrifying ideas. Once we were all aware of our – and the others' - dangerously fragile emotions, all of us knew that no matter what happened, we were never going to be the same. Their brotherly bond was irreparably broken. And my choice of which Harrison to be with could not end well for any of us.

And so, I delayed. Until I knew what choice to make. Thousands of people mean thousands of fucking useless advices. I took them all but heard only what I wanted. And over a seriously drunk discussion with a stranger I practically kidnapped – though there is nothing ‘practically’ about literally dragging the first nice-looking male into the car and knocking him out before driving away to the middle of the desert during the day for a heart-to-heart. The poor guy was scared shitless – I realized that I did love them both but I loved my life more.

And so I did what the entire world criticised me for. I walked away from both of them. I chose neither. I chose me. At the moment, though my heart was breaking, I had been proud of what I did. I shouldn’t have been. I never realized how vulnerable love makes you. How torturous it is. Before I did.

Cam had been at the edge of sanity when I made the choice. And my choice was the fan on which he hanged himself an hour later. Not because he wanted to die. But because he didn’t have a reason to live anymore. I said earlier that they stole my life from me. The truth is that I stole his from him. I came between him and his brother. I rejected the only chance of happiness he had. Music was his passion and I had tainted it for him as well. I might as well have hanged him.

Even Logan said so. I didn’t – couldn’t – attend the funeral in front of all who knew. His other band mates looked ready to murder me. Logan held them back when the three spotted me hiding in a rental at Cam’s funeral in England. His eyes had been dead and his spirit broken. And then he had delivered the blow that hurt more than even a slow painful death ever would.

“It’s all your fault. I curse the day we met you. You should have seen it. You knew everything. But you were too bloody selfish. You chose yourself and killed my kid brother. I will never forgive you. Leave before I kill you myself, you bitch.” I still remember those words. They are burned in every part of my being. I ran, like the coward I was. And it hurt. It hurt to see the dark closed-off anger control every part of his being like I had seen when I had mentioned their father to him for the first time in a bar while Cam had watched. When he had been alive. God, I have ruined whatever I just wrote by letting my tears fall on it. Just as well. I don’t really deserve this escape of words either.

That summer, in that desert, there hadn’t been only one death. Cameron Harrison, Jude Turner and Logan Harrison all died in that one moment when Cam hung himself. We are only fucking useless shells that still live on. Professionally, I am one of the most popular singers of U.S. with the speciality of having dark feelings in every single song of mine. Privately, I am a long-rotten corpse. I now have what I destroyed everything for back then. And I still am incomplete. I still am empty. Because I was never worth anything really.

Finally! I feel that awaited crash from all the liquor and sleepless nights come over me. I will throw this letter away. Burn it. Later. For now I need to sleep. To dream. To see them smile lovingly at me again. It’s what I live for. Forgiveness. Love. Understanding. A second chance.

It is what I will never have.

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