#liab.task

& even though i know i shouldn’t,  i’m still feeding the monsters i’m afraid to fight. 

pete. 

laugh til i cry - the front bottoms > I laugh till I cry I party all of the time I must have liked it a couple years ago But at some point I changed my mind

the boy who blocked his own shot - brand new >call me a safe bet, I'm betting I'm not

otherside - red hot chili peppers >I yell and tell it that It's not my friend I tear it down I tear it down And then it's born again

creep - radiohead >I don't care if it hurts, I want to have control, I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul

zombie - the cranberries >In your head they're still fightin' With their tanks and their bombs And their bombs and their guns In your head, in your head they are dyin'

hand of god - fall out boy >Hand over my heart, gun to my head I swear to God I'm through with this I am the worst liar I know

okay i believe you, but my tommy gun don't - brand new >I hope this song starts a craze. The kind of song that ignites the airwaves. The kind of song that makes people glad To be where they are, With whomever they're there with. This is war. Every line is about, Who I don't wanna write about anymore. Hope you come down with something They can't diagnose, don't have the cure for. Holding on to your grudge.

local man ruins everything - the wonder years >The fountain was off. This is the first time I’ve been back to the city in months. I’m trying to hold it together but irony’s found cracks in the foundation. And you know, I try so hard to be some great white hope But I can’t shake the feeling that tonight I’m gonna end up shaking in bed alone.

the grouch - green day

>I was a young boy that had big plans Now I'm just another shitty old man I don't have fun and I hate everything The world owes me, so fuck you

swimming pool - the front bottoms >I will stop cutting my pants into shorts I will address the issues I cannot ignore And I will do the things I think you might like And I will be alone probably the rest of my life

give me novacaine - green day 

>Drain the pressure from the swelling, This sensation's overwhelming, Give me a long kiss goodnight And everything will be alright Tell me that I won't feel a thing So give me Novacaine

i hate everyone - get set go

> All the people on the street, I hate you all And the people that I meet, I hate you all And the people that I know, I hate you all And the people that I don't, I hate you all Oh, I hate you all

pale beneath the tan (squeeze) - the front bottoms

maybe i’m cheating here, but i don’t really care, cause there’s no other way i could say what i want to say:

dear ryan and brendon: 

dear brendon and ryan: 

dear my boys:

i don’t know what i did to get you in my life. 

cause here’s the thing: i’ve fucked up. i’ve fucked up a looooott. 

and somehow, the universe saw me fit to deserve you. was i a baby-saving organ donor nun in a past life? maybe. clearly i did something right, because now i have you. 

i was talking to ry about this the other day- he messaged me telling me how superior panic was to fob, and being the dick i was, i was set to say how shitty you were (i know, i know. i’m sorry.)

but then, somehow i realized. hey, i thought. these kids are fucking good. and then i made one of the best decisions i probably ever made ever: i replied. 

where would i be if i didn’t ever respond to that message? probably either in rehab or dead, cause you gave me something i needed even back then.

so i responded, and we talked, and i flew out to vegas, and i signed you. and there were things in between- like watching you perform (brendon had-still has-the most natural charisma i’ve ever seen. it’s beautiful, watching him onstage, like it’s what he was born to do.) watching you perform, and having meetings with you about the band where you mostly just had me buy you food, and okay, yeah, fucking ryan in hotel rooms. 

shitty thing to do, i know, but you need to remember i was absolutely out of my fucking mind at this point. and there was this boy, all skinny wrists and awkward long limbs and big brown eyes, and he was so fucking adoring, so fucking pretty, and i’m only fucking human. couldn’t resist him then, can’t now. so that happened, and i got everything set with the label, and then i went back to la. 

and i went back to fucking strangers and shoving needles in my veins and pills down my throat. i think that maybe some part of me thought that if i died, panic could be my parting gift to the world. something to offer in my place.

i’m so fucking glad i didn’t. 

and around then, things were messy. cause i was still getting through the aftermath of mikeyway, and none of the words had been coming out right, not since i left vegas, and somewhere in the middle of that i went to best buy. and you know that, you’ve heard that story, so i don’t want to repeat it. bren cried, i told him i was okay now, and we snuggled, and it was okay because we always are.

fast forward. i’ve been fucking up like i do. less severely, ever since the best buy-i’m still drinking like a middle-aged trophy wife trying to forget her husband’s affairs, but i’m not taking the pills anymore, nothing stronger than alcohol and weed sometimes. 

and you guys start to make it. i don’t talk to you much, don’t talk to anyone much, besides patrick, but i hear things, and i hear that you’re doing so fucking good out there in the world. and i feel so fucking proud of you.

i go to a few shows. brendon is radiant, ryan beaming despite his outward emo-ness, the kids are looking at you like they’re witnessing the rapture. 

i hear that you’re dating, dating each other. and maybe i’m kind of jealous like i always am, but i’m happy, cause that feels right like things never do anymore. my brain doesn’t know what to do with the holes the pills used to fill, and maybe hearing that makes it ache a little less. 

i finish writing. we release cork tree. we tour. 

ten months back from today:

i find out my ex-girlfriend- the First One, the only one back then who wasn’t mikey- i find out she’s getting married. and maybe it doesn’t mean much- thinking about it now, i don’t feel anything. but then, it triggered something, and maybe i locked myself inside my house for two weeks, and maybe i only left cause i was out of liquor and poptarts. and then after that, i left sometimes, but we took a break from performing. and the doors weren’t technically locked, but everybody knew i wasn’t leaving. 

i had a lot of existential crisises then. lay on my floor a lot. i considered it a lot-dying. i didn’t, well, obviously, cause i’m still here. but i thought about it. i thought about it every day. 

i didn’t have the energy to die. 

and then i heard from you again, months later. and we had texted sporadically, sure. talked band stuff. you said you liked the album and i said the same for yours. it didn’t really mean much.

and then we started talking again, both of you on your tour buses wherever you were and me off in la locked in my mansion with my dog (who got very tired of my shit, by the way.) and it made me happy in a way that things didn’t do anymore.

here’s my favorite part: i convinced you to visit, and you did. and you flew out here and you came here and you stayed and you never left, and i really hope you never will. 

you make me better. it sounds weird, i know. see, though, patrick keeps me sane, and you keep me better. you make me want to make myself someone worthy of you. and im going to try to make that happen, no matter how much i fucked up before. 

and people say things, and people ask questions, and they don’t think that we work. but we do, and that’s what matters. me being yours and you being mine, that’s what matters, cause we fit, and we make it work. and maybe someday all the old scars are going to fade, but if they don’t that’s okay too, cause we’re going to kiss them better, and even if they don’t go away they won’t be things of sadness anymore. 

it’s early, and you’re sleeping. i never went to bed. i don’t normally. i’m at the foot of the bed- you’re curled together like you always are, fit perfectly like you should. i’m probably going to put my laptop away and join you after i stop writing this. i want to be with you even if i don’t end up falling asleep (and let’s be real, i won’t.) 

thank you for staying. thank you for existing. thank you for putting up with my bullshit. 

patrick martin vaughn stump.

‘m gonna ramble at you, cause you’re in my life right now, and hopefully will be for the foreseeable future (even though i almost fucked up that bit.)

you and me, we could’ve been the shit people wrote poetry about. It, that True Love thing that people look for all their lives-maybe if we’d lined up just right everything would’ve fallen into place and that would’ve been the fairytale ending. 

you’ve always understood me better than anyone else. i love you for that.

and maybe we missed it, cause i can think of hundreds, thousands of little moments where the universe could’ve shifted. but here’s the important thing: it didn’t.

it didn’t, and we’re okay, and that’s okay. and you’re my best friend in the whole fucking world. 

if we both end up single when we’re old, can we live together with a bunch of dogs? i won’t even get mad when you play jazz for twelve fuckin’ hours, no matter how ella fitzgerald’s voice gets engraved into my brain. 

i kind of know that’s not going to happen. but i’m weirdly at peace with that. 

you have always been my other half. soulmates is a nice concept, but i don’t think it ties up as neatly as everyone thinks. i think people fit together in different ways. and i love you, maybe not in a romance way, but in a real way nonetheless.

nonetheless, god, i sound like ryan. 

so maybe i was in love with you for ten years. and maybe it was real, on some level. but i think a big part of it is that you’ve always been home to me, and i think maybe i wanted it to work so badly that i tried. 

i never kissed you, not even when i was drunk or high or both or had a pharmacy running in my insides. i think i always knew that i would ruin things, that we had-we have-something too important to fuck up. making it romantic would be too neat, too perfect, too much for someone to get in one person. you fill in all the gaps in my lines and i think that means too much for me to risk losing you even though i almost did anyways. 

i got so fucking upset when you kissed mikeyway, though. 

but i guess that was good for me. good for you. cause i think on some level i always thought that there was still a shot, but then you kissed my ex and i realized that maybe things don’t always wrap up as perfectly as we expect them to. 

maybe brain-damaged frontmen don’t always maybe end up with their voice. maybe they end up with a tiny fanboy from vegas and his hyperactive boyfriend. and maybe, maybe they’re all happy anyways.

maybe it’s what they all needed.

i love you.

dear mikey way: 

i’m so fucking sorry. i’m sorry that i wasn’t what you needed but i was what you wanted, i’m sorry that maybe you were what i needed but not wanted. i always loved you, that part was true. that part was true even when i was fucked to hell. 

maybe it’s as simple as this: right place, wrong time. you were fragile and seventeen and all you wanted was someone to call you pretty and tell you they loved you. and i was- fuck, what? twenty-five? old enough that i probably should’ve known what i was doing. 

but i gave you that. 

and maybe that was shitty of me, but it was good for you, and i think it was good for me too, trying to care about someone besides myself. however well you think i did, i made the attempt. 

here’s another thing, mikey way: when i was twenty-five, i was a train wreck. i spent a lot of time fucking strangers and trying to fill the gaps in my brain with pills. and you came along, angelic and babyfaced and so fucking innocent, and i knew that i could destroy you if i wanted to. 

( i maybe kind of did. want to, i mean. )

but i shoved it down my throat and i did the right thing, did the boyfriend thing, however shitty i was at it. and maybe i was really bad at returning calls, and maybe i was kind of a mess all the sometimes. but i tried as well as twenty-five-year-old pete could be bothered to try.  

the day i broke up with you, i don’t think you were surprised. you heard the stories, knew that i never stayed long. did you know i’m currently in the third relationship of my fucking life? cause high school doesn’t count, not when i didn’t feel anything besides teenage eagerness and curiosity. 

you were the second, mikey way, and i like to think you made an impression. maybe if we’d met later it could’ve worked. maybe if the stars lined up a little bit more carefully, maybe if you’d been less vulnerable, maybe if i didn’t push quite as hard on the ativan down my throat. maybe it could’ve worked. 

You Oughta Know by Alanis Morissette 

You seem very well, things look peaceful I'm not quite as well, I thought you should know...

And I'm here to remind you of the mess you left when you went away It's not fair to deny me of the cross I bear that you gave to me

Bitch by Meredith Brooks

I'm a bitch, I'm a lover, I'm a child, I'm a mother I'm a sinner, I'm a saint, I do not feel ashamed I'm your hell, I'm your dream, I'm nothing in between You know you wouldn't want it any other way

All I Really Want by Alanis Morissette

You must wonder why I'm so relentless and all strung out I'm consumed by the chill of solitary I'm like Estella, I like to reel it in and then spit it out I'm frustrated by your apathy And I am frightened by the corrupted ways of this land, if only I could meet the Maker

Hand In My Pocket by Alanis Morissette

I feel drunk but I'm sober I'm young and I'm underpaid I'm tired but I'm working, yeah I care but I'm restless I'm here but I'm really gone I'm wrong and I'm sorry baby

Krampus by Houndmouth

I see the light shining on me I'm coming home for the winter I see the light shining on me I'm coming home for dinner

Zombie by The Cranberries

Another head hangs lowly Child is slowly taken And the violence caused such silence Who are we mistaken

Strong Wind South by The Diamond Light

You found me in the back-house trying to get clean. With my face hung down and the water pouring over me. Under cinder-blocks, and corn stalks, my shoulders weigh down. Heavy as sin in the strong wind south 

Grandpa by The Judds

Grandpa, tell me 'bout the good old days. Sometimes it feels like this world's gone crazy. Grandpa, take me back to yesterday, Where the line between right and wrong didn't seem so hazy

Drums by Johnny Cash

And there are drums beyond the mountain Indian drums that you can't hear There are drums beyond the mountain and they're getting mighty near

B.I.A. by Floyd Red Crow Westerman

B.I.A. don’t you blame me for your problems I’m not your Indian anymore, you belong to white man now.

Free Bird by Lynyrd Skynyrd

If I leave here tomorrow Would you still remember me For I must be travelin' on now There's too many places I got to see

La Grange by ZZ Top

Well, I hear it's fine if you got the time and the ten to get yourself in. And I hear it's tight most ev'ry night, but now I might be mistaken.

Songbird by Fleetwood Mac

For you, there'll be no more crying, For you, the sun will be shining

Muther by letlive.

And all because of you now I can’t stand it in all that I do, all that I do, I see the scarlet branding mother, you know I’m sorry, but sorry’s pregnant with remorse and when remorse is born remorse won’t see an ounce of child support

Day 54 by letlive.

Task 17: By Any Other Name Date: 9/11/15

I got the name Jack from my parents, and no matter how many times I’ve asked them, they won’t tell me exactly why they chose such a generic name for their son. I’ve got suspicions that it came from my Mom’s favorite actress, Jack Nicholsen. The movie Beetlejuice came out the year I was born and to be honest, that’s probably why I’m named Jack. My full name is Jack Bassam Barakat, and I’m pretty sure my Dad said that if my Mom was going to choose my first name, he got to pick the middle.  Bassam is an Arabic name and is ironic because it means “smiling one,” which is something I’m constantly doing. My last name, Barakat, is also Arabic and means “blessings.” It’s also a Sudanese community. I’ve never bothered changing my name because I’m proud of who I am and I’m proud of my heritage.

The most common nickname people call me is “Jackary” or “Skunkhair.” Both of which amuse me. Jackary is something a lot of my close friends call me. I’m not sure why, but hey. It’s all good. Skunkhair tends to happen more when I go crazy with my hair dye. Mom and Dad like to call me habib alby, which means ‘love of my heart’ in Arabic. I tell them I hate it sometimes because I think I’m too old for it at times, but really it does make me smile and it makes me feel special to them.