Queen of the Headphone Zombies

Arpeggio

ZOE

Cool Kids// Echosmith

Dylan, the ex, who shall be known from this point forward as dumb fuck or DF for short, is sitting behind his drums, preening like a peacock for his new lady love. And she in turn is lounged across the love seat giving him googly eyes while blowing him kisses.

I stand frozen in the doorway staring at DF. The hate I have for him is so strong I swear I can taste it. And it tastes as I imagined it would...like sour milk, cigarette ash, and previously chewed upon fruity tutti gum.

God that is all I wish I felt for him at this moment, pure hate. But there is a part of me that is weak and still longs for what we had, and that part is making my heart skip a beat at the sight of him. I really loved this bastard. God help me, maybe still love this bastard. For the first time, in a long time, I decided to take a chance—I came out from behind my quite impressive "stay the fuck away from me" personal defense walls. I lowered my guard and let someone in. Someone who said he wanted to know everything about me. Someone who said he cared about the things I cared about. Someone who acted like I was his whole fucken world. And like a love-struck idiot I believed everything he said.

He doesn't love me anymore. Those words bounce around my skull and make my hands shake. DF, also known as the biggest mistake of my life, hasn't bothered to look in my direction, too focused on his groupie girlfriend.

It's now or never, I guess.

I clasp my fingers tightly in front of me, forcing myself forward. My eyes are now focused on anything but DF. I look over at Roger sitting at the keyboard. He takes one look at me and suddenly becomes busy gathering up sheets of music. My eyes swing over to Josh strumming his fingers lightly across his guitar. The minute our eyes lock, his quickly slide away as an uncomfortable expression crosses his face.

And there in the center of the make shift stage, the stage DF spent a month building in his mother's old she shed, stands the microphone. Being on stage is the one place, the only place I feel like I know who I am. Standing in front of a microphone, standing in front of that crowd waiting to hear me sing, that is my passion, my lifeline. When I am up there, I close my eyes and let the music fill my body and my soul. Singing is that one thing I feel I was born to do. DF can't take that away from me. No matter how hopeless and depressed I've been feeling, I refuse to let him take that away from me.

The sight of that little stage is what straightens my spine and allows me to do what I have to do. If I put my energy into the music, I know I can, for the moment, let the rest of it all go. I can do this. I will do this.

My forward motion catches DF's attention. "Zoe, what are you doing here?" His voice has lost its mocking tone, replaced with confusion.

His little plaything looks at me and then back at him in shock. "Dylan, I thought-," but before she can finish, he cuts her off. "This isn't a good time, Zoe. I can't deal with an argument right now. We're busy." He tone is now dismissive.

And that dismissive tone weakens my resolve. Before I say a word, I step onto the stage and put both hands on the microphone stand to steady myself. This is why I needed Chelsea to walk in with me. She would have already verbally dressed DF down in order to give me time to compose myself. A stiff silence while I gain control will have to do.

When I finally speak even I'm surprised how steady my voice sounds. "Band practice, Dylan." Too bad I don't have the guts to call him dumb fuck to his face, yet. That day will come. "That's the only reason I'm here. To practice. With our band." I emphasize the last two points by measuring out each syllable.