Mind of Bryan Coltrane
Living on rats, letting moss grow on my toes…I can’t go on like this.
It was time to get out, escape this horrid dungeon. I remembered the words of a song I had heard ages ago.
“Wake up. It’s time, it’s time to find a better place to hide.”
Razor! I hummed it softly to myself.
Footsteps in the distance—stop humming—paws? Just paws…a stray dog.
As I stepped out of the cave, the cold wind hit my unprotected face. It felt good. It was the first time in days I felt so alive, so human.
“I’ve never felt so alone and I’ve never been so alive”
Third Eye Blind.
Inside my head, a little inbuilt MP3 sang for me.
It’s like I had a song for everything I felt, each step of the way.
I was making up for the lack of new words. What was once a natural instinct is now strange to me. I would never write again. Never again! I wrote for her. Everything for her.
“To see you when I wake up is a gift I didn’t think to be real. To know that you feel the same as I do is a…”
She never felt the same.
I continued to sing.
“You do something to me that I can’t explain. So would I be out of line if I said I miss you.”
I took out something from my wallet. The next line.
“I see your picture. I smell your skin on the empty pillow next to mine”
More like the slimy stone, actually. Too late, the next line was already ringing in my ears.
“You have only been gone ten days but already I’m wasting away.”
Forgetting myself in you. How I used to be so caught up with your life. I never lived my own. Everything had to be about you. Your clothes, your work, your favorite movie! It disgusts me now.
“I wish I was special, so fucking special. But I’m a creep. I’m a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here. I don’t belong here.”