They Call Me Catalyst

I’m on stage with a band, I’m playing w guitar and shouting gang vocals mostly but on the last song I sing lead vocal. No one in the band really had a face that I could tell so idk if they were meant to be s famous band or just some friends.

Anyways as I’m packing up my gear a girl that had been in the front row is walking across the stage and she places a hand on my shoulder and runs it across my back as she says “hey beautiful” and just before she slips out of reach I grab her hand. She’s clearly a manic pixie dream girl type. As I grab her hand she spins back around to me playfully. I can’t remember exactly what she said but it was something about being in a band being hot. I shrugged it off but asked if she’d like a drink.

Holding my hand she leads me through the bar but the next thing that I can’t recall is that we are in the bathroom and she’s inside the stall while I’m leaning up on the wall across the room. I’m talking and talking and finally I ask her if I could get her number.

Suddenly the camera cuts to inside the stall, she’s on the floor vomiting into the toilet while I’m asking for her phone number and she wipes her mouth and says “it’s not a great time”

I’m a little frustrated and completely oblivious to the fact that she just wants to stop puking before having further conversation. And then I turn and catch s glimpse of myself in the mirror. I look like Christian Bale in full Dick Cheney costume.

My clinically depressed father: I’m sure all the people in your generation have anxiety of some kind, between the social media and the video games.

Me: I’m serious, my anxiety is debilitating at times.

My medicated bipolar father: Well you just have to work on it, put yourself out there and it will go away.

I thought the fever would settle in me and I could smile and say I’m okay and actually believe it.

I thought that I would crawl into bed and close my eyes without seeing red.

I open my mouth

only to shut it

without drawing breath

in my lungs

stale air

nothing worth saying.

Find fragments

of sentences

floating

on the surface

of a shallow bath

drowned

If I want to double check something because I’m unsure if you have passed me correct information it’s not an attempt to insult you, the insult is your specialty. To know you are dealing with someone who might have insight and still act like their request is intended as a slight.

Do I think I’m above you? Yes.