Happiness ↣ Jon Mess

1 . the rattler

jon stares into the lifeless eyes of the interviewer. she stood around a foot shorter than him, with blotchy purple dyed hair, and dark brown eyes. he was staring directly at the cameraman as matt took most of the questions; if there was one thing about being a frontman he hated the most it was having to take attention. matt tim & will are interesting enough guys, for fucks sake he would be fine with just shoving tilian up front, doing his job, and going back to normal. bright lights beaming onto his sweaty skin from all angles, he's done three of these this last week. always after a performance (when the fuck else would they find the guys except for when they're sweaty and gross and exhausted?)

"so do either of you have girlfriends? i mean obviously the fans want to know."

what if he was gay? no he wasn't, but he sure didn't wanna answer that. matt took it. matt has a long term girlfriend.

"what's your craziest fan experience?"

the time a chick in minneapolis stuck her tongue down his throat at the bar and he decided not to drink after shows anymore.

matt talks about some shitty fan.

it's like everyone got this class except for him. how to smile and shake their heads and be kind to a midget who smelled like cherry-axe-body-spray and splat hair dye. yeah that's harsh but it's just fan service and the same seven questions album cycle after album cycle.

show expression on stage? doing too much. doing his fucking job? jon must be having a bad day. he's never allowed to be in his head. never allowed to make music without a scene tugging and baiting him.
so he stares with a blank expression between her. between matt. between the camera and seeing how long his eyes will tolerate staring into the ring lights.

this art isn't for him anymore. he doesn't want it.

-

ohio now, a new day, he wakes up. he stares at himself in the mirror of the cramped narrow bus. the bathroom is small and compact. he feels the walls closing in from every angle. it's hard to breathe. he tries to focus in on one aspect of his face but he can't find any. not one.

"jon! other people need to piss too you know. get out here pretty boy." will shouts from the couch outside. it's like he snaps back. he's still dizzy, but he's okay. he's gonna be okay.

he steps out of the bathroom, as will bee lines past him. has he eaten today? he ate this morning. or was that yesterday morning? he thinks he's losing weight. you can never be sure. tilians the only one on this bus with a scale. he thinks they lost it in san diego.

"hey man, you okay?" tilian asks as he walks past, headed to his bunk.

maybe if he banged his head on the wall a couple times he could feel something.

"i'm fine," jon nods, climbing into his bunk like a pair of scissors fitting neatly into a drawer. he hears his heart beat faster in here. his heartbeat is fast. not anxiety attack. but fast. thick air. he pulls the curtain to the bunk.

dark air.

-

the crowd is bigger tonight but he's fine. he's clutching the microphone. these people like him well enough don't they? well enough. they like his lyrics. they like how little they know about him. stage lights red, orange, yellow, blue. the opening track to chucky plays. he blanks. he catches up. the crowd yelled it loud enough he could pass it off. every unclean line that passes through him feels like the air being knocked out of him. his lungs feel compressed. death of a strawberry. tree village. when was the last time he actually noticed the details of a tree? an oak, a pine. anything. when was the last time he looked around him?

during exposed, he sat back and of course let tilian take the lead. he looked at how happy tilian looked dancing and singing and crouching in the crowd and he thought of how fun it used to be. matt is smiling too, you can tell he just enjoys what he's doing. he's wondering why he can't be like that anymore. how he became this person.

every day of the last tour he's felt brain dead. six dates in and every date it's like he loses a piece of himself. he's not remembering things well. he has to force himself awake and asleep.

it's hopeless.
his brain shouts.
you're not winning.
his mind screams.
you'll never get better.
his head throbs.
you'll never get over it.

it'll always be this bad forever. he will always be hiding.

he feels blank. there's ringing in his ears. exposed ended but he's already out the door.

-

why don't you stop? jon's brain screeches. it's echoing. why is this who he is now. why is the depression taking over, why now? he's almost full mental break and isn't even concerned about will probably bullshitting his lines.

i miss my cat. what do i have to come home to? a cat. hah.

just a cat that his sister could watch. he's walking down the street. his vision is blurry, the lights are like streets, like a picasso painting the chunks of vision he has left are of the navy blue sky, lighting stripe traffic lights, and the sidewalk beneath him. his steps become light. he can't tell if it's a crosswalk. he crosses anyway.

cars honk at him probably thinking he's crazy. it's a cold night. he goes for a cigarette he doesn't have. he stops in his tracks in the middle of the street. he just stands, looking at the ground. cars pass around him. honk, yell profanities out the window. tears are rolling down his cheeks. but his breath is eerily regular.

"hey!" he hears a voice shout.

he ignores it.

"you! in the red shirt! are you okay?"

he looks up at the starry night.

he hears a car door shut and a small figure is now in front of him. "what are you doing out here? you're gonna get yourself killed. i don't know where you think you are, but—"

he actually looks to the voice. still unable to see properly. she sees his wide, dilated eyes, and the way he's shaking, tears rolling down his panicked expression.

"i can help you okay? let's go. i promise i won't abduct you. that was stupid. let's just get to my car okay?"

the figure takes his hand and his legs walk, shaking. he doesn't know where he is and barely knows how he got here.

he is hauled into the passenger seat of a car. it smells like coffee and pineapple mint car freshener.

he falls asleep as soon as his head hits the backrest.