one

Did you even love me

Did you even mean the words you said

Then why did you leave me

Knowing ill be sleeping alone forever on our bed

song: irreplaceable

album: perfect lies

“I hate this salad, add more dressing”

I say to the assistant who brings me food before all my shows

“You know what, just get me a burger, or a chocolate milkshake”

The assistant nods and walks to the door of my dressing room.

“Get both” I add. I need to free myself of these nerves and gluten is the best way.

She fumbles for the doorknob in the dark while I take deep breaths to keep calm.

All the lights are off, the constant light on stage is gonna give me a headache anyway.

Finally she finds the knob and hurries of to get me what I want.

Nothing new, do you want water? Do you want pizza? Sorry, do you want something made of healthy stuff so you can stay thin? Do you want a pen to sign my forehead? Do you want to build a snowman?

No no no no and yes, I do want to build a snowman.

The point is these questions are answered and then people run like there are bees chasing them to get whatever I want.

Now id like it more if they asked

Do you want to be alone?

How about some aspirin?

Want a Chocolate milkshake?

Do you need a quiet room and no disturbance?

Do you want a day without someone flashing cameras in front of your eyes and making you blind.

Holler! The reason I wear sunglass all day everyday

I mean I’m not saying I’m tired of singing, I love it. Way too much. No exceptions.

But I wish they wouldn’t act like I’ve saved someone’s life every time I hit a high note.

Like really people, simmer down.

I lie down on the bed and try to sleep for at least five minutes.

Come on come on come on

Nope, the bundle of nerves in my stomach is building up and about.

I feel like I’m gonna puke.

Ugh.

This is so not what I imagined.

I knew it was my first world tour but after ten shows I still feel as if it’s my first.

As if someone is gonna throw eggs at me if a miss out a word.

Hell no, they will think it’s cute I missed lines and messed up.

They would find it cute even if I start singing the SpongeBob square pants theme song.

I don’t know how long it’s been when I hear the door open, finally my milkshake.

Nope, it’s the makeup guy, José.

I sit up and move to the chair while he does me makeup, I feel like a ton of mud is on my face and honestly all the enjoyment of looking beautiful all the time ran away when I had to reach home and scrub the mound of crap off my face every night.

He makes me all pretty and wishes me best of luck for the show.

Then my dress comes, I put it on quickly while I’m alone.

A beautiful green number, It reaches till my knees and makes my waist look tiny (even though it’s not) the bodice is fitted and with a simple neckline and the skirt is an overlap of many sheer layers. It makes me kinda look like a fairy. The leaf like color also adds to the impression.

The second piece I put on is like a belt and is a darker version of the green, it is asymmetrical and short in the front but long in the back.

Thank god it’s light and flows easily or I would trip on stage making my micro phone go plop! , On someone’s head.

‘The seventeen year old pop star tripped on stage during her performance and smashed the young girl on the head, police took her into custody’

Someone comes and does my hair and the assistant returns with a glass of strong coffee.

I feel the need for my burger rise but I don’t ask the assistant who ordered the coffee for me.

Mom but at this point I like the coffee and think of saying thank you to her later, I know I will forget. Like every other time.

I need to thank people more I think.

The hair guy leaves my room and I’m alone in the strong lights.

I look in the mirror and see some other girl, a stranger, someone with huge exaggerated eyes and extremely thick eye lashes, with wavy hair down to her shoulders. With perfect white and pink nails which are filed and done.

I don’t know this girl and yet she is me.

There is one more sip of water to take till an assistant comes in and tells me to come.

Five minutes left till the show.

I stand awkwardly and look at the people screaming my name, screaming “we looove you” or just screaming.

They can’t see me yet but I stand there, staring at the people who love me and judge me.

Who will turn their face to me if I do one single thing. That way fame is delicate. You have to keep pleasing the fans.

You can’t quit. You have to be nice, you have to take pictures, you have to do what they want you to do.

Even on bad days. Even on cramp days. Every month.

You can’t just fly out of scene.

The person standing in front of me turns me round and takes a final look at me, hands me a microphone and tells me one minute.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes.

Clench and unclench my fist.

People hug me tell me best of luck, my hone beeps. I look at it but before I can read the message the person who looked me p takes it away from me.

Ten seconds. She mouths, or speaks I don’t know at this point.

She counts down from five and I walk down to the millions of waiting critics who will hang on my every word, my every note tonight.

The girls scream louder and I paste a huge smile on my face.

“How yall doing”

No, I think. You just offended people by trying a southern accent.

Sometimes it feels like my brain is a hater.

Oh well, haters gonna hate.

“I think, that this show is gonna be the best one yet” I say that to almost every city, just different words this time.

I show them a rock sign with my hand and introduce the song that needs no introduction because they all already know it.

“This is one of my faves, I wrote it for all of you people who think they aren’t perfect.”

They know, they scream out something but the beat gives way and then that’s all I hear.

I start out the first verse of ‘all that you should be’

Yeah, cuz a pimple on my face is like not possible but a pimple on their face makes them unique and pretty.

You can be strange

You can live with your head down

Change your hair just because someone told you to

If you listen someday you are just gonna drown,

Baby

They scream out the lyrics with me.

Then I hit to the chorus while walking around the huge stage.

All that you should be is brave enough to show them that they can’t tell you nothing

All that you should be is strong enough to block out all they tell you

All that you should be is yourself

All that you should be is yourself

No matter what they tell you to be

They love it, they love the song. It makes them feel confident and like they are pretty like me.

Though I’m not really pretty, not after all the heavy makeup and constant light and work has left its mark on me.

All that you should be is different

Stand out in the crowd

All that you should hide is nothing

Don’t pass the hate around

You can be mine

And you can be hers

And you can make smiles

And you can wipe tears

This time when the chorus comes I turn the mike to them and say

”you sing”

And they do.

It makes me feel awesome that they spent their life and time in learning the lyrics that they smile when they sing.

I think this is why I love being me. I can inspire.

And I can change lives, if not save.

The crowd’s screams live long in my ears even though the show was over a solid three hours ago.

I watch some stupid show on how to make cake and slurp my milkshake and chow down my burger.

I wish I was eighteen so I could drink something more reliving and forget my worries but I know I won’t touch it because I have many many many secrets to hide and I’m afraid that if I do get drunk I will tell them away.

Any way I look at my phone to see it was a good luck text from my boyfriend. He added two wink faces and a kissy face.

I smile and put the phone back, too tired to talk now. He would understand right?

Meh.

I switch off the cake show and brush off the crumbs as I leave to get my guitar.

Its light brown and wood, I think it’s lucky and it was signed by linking park which makes me love it.

I play out a few chords in hopes of writing a new song but realize I’m super tired. I let it be and switch of the lights and switch of myself to sleep.

pai

All that you should be is different

Stand out in the crowd

All that you should hide is nothing

Don’t Pass the hate around

You can be mine

And you can be hers

And you can make smiles

And you can wipe tears

This time when the chorus comes I turn the mike to them and say

”you sing”

And they do.

It makes me feel awesome that they sepnt their life and time in learning the lyrics, that they smile when the ysing.

I think this iss why I love being me. I can inspire.

And I can change lives, if not save.

The crowd’s screams live long in my ears even though the show was over a solid three hours ago.

I watch some stupid show on how to make cake and slurp my milkshake and chow down my burger.

I look at my phone to see it was a good luck text from my boyfriend. He added two wink faces and a kissy face.

I smile and put the phone back, too tired to talk now. He would understand right?

Meh.

I switch off the cake show and brush off the crumbs as I leave to get my guitar.

Its light brown and wood, I think its lucky and it was signed by linking park which makes me love it.

I play out a few chords in hopes of writing a new song but realize im super tired. I let it be and switch of the lights and switch of myself to sleep.

two

Leave me alone

Just let me go home

Don’t make me run from you everyday

I don’t want to keep myself guarded

Against all you throw at me

Don’t you see my scars and my pleading eyes

Getting punished for crimes I didn’t commit

song: let me go home

album: perfect lies

the next morning is the end of my tour. im going home sweet home.

only its not usually that sweet. mostly bitter and mesmerizing. i am eighteen and i have no bars to what i consume.

thankfully my parents believe in the 'good girl' image that the media and my manager have created (not very easily i might add. i didn't want it though).

my house is huge and empty. just how i like it. the lights are dim and few. i like the dark.

tonight i am alone and my phone is switched off. i stand in front of the full sized mirror in my bathroom and stare at my own face. not the red lips and winged eyeliner. not the fake complexion i get with the makeup. i look at me.

the pale face and long eyelashes, even without mascara. my eyelashes. i touch them with my index finger.

the long curly brown hair down to my shoulder that is messy in some places and curls in the worst ways possible. my narrow face makes my eyes look bigger and my lips look ever so pink without the lipstick on them.

i look straight into the eyes of the girl in front of me and note the differences in her.

same blue eyes, just a little duller now.

same hair, just the way i like it. messy and roughed up.

same face. different person.

i slowly run my fingers along every part of my face, bringing them from my hair to my eyes to my nose to my lips. i trace my fingers along my neck and then to my shoulders, which hold so much weight now. same shoulders. different person. i run my fingers along my left hand to my wrist and then suddenly increase my pressure.

the blade i hold has left no mark on my flawless face but th pressure i put on it has brought blood out from my wrist.

the red oozes out into the sink and leaves drops and trails on the white colour.

i don't wince in pain. i just stare at the blood.

two. only two. i tell myself. i shift the place of the blade and press hard again.

i leave the blade in the sink and wash my hands to rid the blood. the scars will heal soon. no one will know next time i step wearing no sleeves or gloves.

usually i wear black gloves if i go out soon after i cut but otherwise no one notices anyway, but after what happened with demi lovato i don't want to become the centre of attention in that way.

i sleep in my soft bed and read till late. nothing to stop me now. no one to tell me to sleep.

no one. I'm alone.

tomorrow is a important day, i know but this book, much like every other one i put my hands on has kept me awake until i finish it.

no deaths today, at least. this book is to happy for my taste.

my eyes close and i surrender to sleep.

three

But then you faded

And I started counting days and hours

Time I spent with you should have been infinite

But we never got that far

song: broken promise

album: perfect lies

wake up, one week later. the scars on my wrist healing and blending to help my hide my secret.

my phone shows three messages one from my mother and two from my manager- yes they are two different people!

she didn't want to do it and i didn't want her to. so my manager is this old man who put too much gel in his white hair and only wears white suits so i named him 'bleach'.he also has no regard for time or my personal life which does not involve glitz and glam.

but he gets me good gigs and stuff so i guess its worth it.[ see what i did there ;) ]

the two messages read

-karah. you will perform at the 'mesmor' music festival. this is your big break other notes are with your assistant.-

and the other one

-don't mess this up-

my mother has sent me a note of congratulations for my big break(hope i dont break something or someone during my performance!)

guess the manager told her too. good going bleach!

ugh!

i walk out of my room to my possibly last hour of free time and rest.

the fridge is empty and i need food so bad. i take an Advil and call up my assistant.

"hello?" her voice is quiet and calculative. she is older than me and keeps track of what i do when i do. i think she used to be an undercover spy before taking up my un-required babysitting job. who knows? she might still be.

"its karah, i want food, get me food" i have long since stopped being polite to her because she doesn't mind and if she does its her problem. not mine.

"taco bell?" she knows me too well.

"noooo" i say it in length so she understands how much i dont want taco bell

"subway?" yes sand which. yes. food

"yes."i say .

"ill be over in thirty minutes along with my notes for your performance" she says and the line goes off.

great! thirty minutes to crash landing.

the countdown begins.

30-

i take a bath and put on non- smelly clothes

15-

i chuck away any evidence of my drinking and lock my drink fridge

10-

i pull my phone out of the charging slot and keep it on the table

9-

i look around for any glass bits

8-

i comb my hair and smile to the mirror.

5-

i wait

4-

i hear her car in my driveway.

3-

she is stepping inside my house

2-

i smile.

1-

i smile despite of her frown.

.

she looks older in her grey suit and short blonde hair. i see her hands filled with my food and some papers. she also carries an iPad.

"here" she hands me the sand which.

i wait.

"this is the time table you have to follow very stricly. it includes dress fitting, choreography, makeup testing, photo shoots, interviews and practice sessions"

0-

BOOM. BOOM BOOM.

only one person was injured due to the crash landing, karah has her heart broken and soul shattered. her smile seems to be locked in place and her hands are shaking. she apparently hates the world. now for other news, will karah punch her assistant? or will she throw the sand which bag at her?. stay tuned for more.

i stayed locked in place while she went on.

"i have also emailed this time table to you karah, don't mess this up" i am SO sick of everyone telling me to not mess it up that i want to go right up to the stage now and mess it up.

mess it up so bad that my reputation goes to hell. i want to mess everything up. it wont matter anyway because i have already messed myself up.

"your first dress fitting is today at seven. and -what is that?" sje looks shocked staring up at something on the floor.

"is that? is that a cigarette!!?" he voice climbing octaves with every word.

four

Tick tock

God don’t fail me now

Ready to cry

Ready to break down

Up a notch

Let my tears flow away

Down the drain

Lose my words and heart astray 

song: waiting for you

album: perfect lies

Work you stupid brain! Freak!

"What no that isnt a cigerrate! Its a....uh..um bubblegum wrapper"

Yes, my brain works in the most unexpected and beautiful way at times least expected.imfact you can call me thomas edison, you know? The guy who invented the lightbulb. Yeah. But the lightbulb in my brain blinks off too many times and mostly when i need the light.

"Dont lie karah! I can see it! I am calling your mother right now! Do you know what will happen if anyone finds out about this? You are the people's idol, you CANT SMOKE! they dont pay me to watch you fall into smoking and drinking and drugs!"

And thomas the engine started on the same tracks again! The same track he drove through everyday. Infact he drove through the tracks so much that he knew exactly what would come next. Thomas was so bored that he wanted to de-rail himself. Thomas the train choo-chooed through another boring day without de-railing himself.Thomas was a sad, bored engine.

She goes on talking about how i was the role model for the whole country and stuff. One smoker was better than a fridge full of vodka and tequila.
"Do you want to be the reason five year olds start doing drugs?!"

This cracks me. I dont wanna be the one responsible for the five years of the world.dont we have parents and obama for that? Every one holds me responsible for every bad thing their kids do. I didnt ask them to smoke if i did, i never sang songs about smoking. Then how come they do it. The problem is that they dont understand that i cant always do the right thing. They expect me to be the perfect representation of the person they want their kids to be. I cant be that.
All i can be is myself.

All i want to be is myself.

And if i smoke then it should be accepted.

I only hide it because of my mother. I cant bear to see her see me do the very thing that gave her sister cancer and took away her life.

"Do you have any idea what will happen if this one half piece of paper gets out into the press!"

Im done. My heart tells me to show her the finger and run away but my head goes for the calmer option.... Or nah.

"i REALLY DONT CARE! I DIDNT ASK TO BE THE FUCKING IDOL FOR FIVE MILLION SNOTTY TODDLERS. LET ME LIVE MY DAMN LIFE. I CAN SMOKE WHATEVER THE HELL I WANT WHENEVER I WANT!"

My scream echoes all over the house. I dont even regret it. I just run to my room, leaving her there.
It takes me two minutes but i finally get myself off the bed and walk back to the main room. I pick up my phone and then the sandwich. I see her leave the papers on the table and leave. Great. Wonderful. Perfect.

A bottle and some privacy, is all i need now. And maybe a memory erazing devixe thingy.

The life of a popstar is not what it looks like, the smiling faces of the stars for one were very misleading. I hate to say this, but i am now officialy a member of the fake smiles for the camera club.

I spend the rest of the day drinking and sleeping and crying.

At seven, i'm looking at swirling blues and greys in my wall. Too much. Too much.
The liquid has crowded my thinking and i'm swinging to my door to let someone in. Only i dont know who it is.

He lets himself in and i can tell he is a HE and not a she. His brown hair looks messy and i find his name and pull to it inside the smog of my head.
"Jaze?" His brown eyes clear up my head a bit. Just a bit. The fog is like a rubber band streached tight. It snaps back every time it clears up even a little.

"Youre drunk" he says, stepping into my house and looking like he owns the place.
"You got a problem" today i dont joke and tell him he is mr obvious. He goes into the kitchen and starts opening cupboards.

"I dont got no problem but the dress fitters are going to have problems if you dont sober up in two hours" he starts out with coffee. The aroma wakes me up, much like he does.

"She sent you here?" I know. Everything
"Who?"
"Dont play dumb"
"Ok fine! Maybe"
I knew it. Pretty popstars sad so you gotta send her a pretty boyfriend to make her feel better.

He sets the coffee mug in the table and i sit beside the mug. He sits on the chair opposite me. I pull the hot coffee into my throat and cherish the burn.

"So...how are you" he tries to put it gently. His actual question is:- are you on drugs yet?
I laugh, realizing a secong later i must sound like a insane killer with my half drunken laugh.
"Alive" i say, in a monotone.
One person i dont have to pretend in front of. I am glass to jason. See through. He knows me head to toe, and i know him from eyelash to fingertip to white sneakers and blue socks.

"You gonna be fine right ker?"

"I dont know" i say the half sentance.

I dont know what fine means anymore. I dont know what anything means anymore.

five

How did I see your eyes so wrong

How did I never believe

That the devil lives inside the angel

How did I not see

song: breakdown

album perfect lies

"Ker?" 

,"yeah?"
"You dont need to do this you know, you can go away, run, escape. Let it go.anytime you want. Dont wait till you break karah"
His words are beautiful and his honesty clear.
I reply back, as honest as him, pulled out of the fog.

"I know i can, i do. But i have this power. This thing in my hand to influence people. Maybe some five year old will stop crying because of my song. Or someone, somewhere will want to live two more days to catch my next single or i might be giving someone the stength to live one more day, fight back. How can i run away just because i dont like the stress, how can i tell them to fight and then give up myself? There are people who fight for every breath they take, every word they choke on and i'm here with the chance to show them its possible.how can i ever run away from this chance. I cant and I wont"

He seems mildly surprised, as if he expects me to say i am running away today, at midnight. Maybe he sees the fire in my eyes or maybe the truth in those words.

"If you do get tired, i am always there" he has been and i know he will be.
He smiles and i do too, for a moment i am a child again, accepting the pencil from his hand. I am twelve again, asking him if we can practice kissing. I am me again, without the ugly makeup and heavy gowns. I change in my visions of the past but he never does, he has always been my jaze, and he always will be.

My parents and assistant think of him as my boyfriend but the truth is he is so much more. My life long bestfriend. He doesnt ask for kisses or my body. He asks for my friendship and love, which i have plentyful to give.

We had tried being a pair back when i was not famous but it didnt work out so we made a deal to pretend it never happened at all. It hasnt affected our friendship at all.

It didnt, but i did.

I feel like a burden jaze has to take care off.
Popstar sad, make her happy
Popstar drunk, make her sober
Popstar hungry, cook for popstar

This seems to be too much a prize to pay for my friendship.

His girlfriend, kate seems to hate his visits here so its our little secret. She thinks he loves me.(oh he does, but not in that way!)
My mom, kate, my assistant and my manager dont know that all we do is talk and hug. They seem to think that my rumpled sheets are because if him and not because of my carelessness.
Adults see everything, even non-existant things.

Its been two, maybe three minutes when he seems to jump out of his thoughts.
"The costume people might be coming, i gotta go."
He gives me a short hug and i hate to admit this but i really miss the familiar feel of his broad shoulders around me. Since i have become famous a wall has built itself between us, a wall i cannot break.

He leaves and i drink coffee and wait for people to come and dress me up. Play dressup with me.

im a barbie girl
In a fucked up world
Used to think it was fantastic
But my heart is plastic...

Come on barbie you gotta party
No-oh-oh-oh
Come on barbie smile like you like it
Woah-woah

[to the tune of barbiegirl by aqua]

six

Time will wither away your sins

But not mine to forgive

Time will take away your smile

But not my tears

No, not my tears

song: all i gave you

album: perfect lies

he dresses are heavy and light, beautiful and ugly. elegant and loud. some match my eyes, others complement my skin tone. most of them are soft and satin and short. the kind i usually wear to my concerts. some newer ideas are also there. one of the clothes is a dark blue jumpsuit which is so tight fitting that i fee llike i am naked. they have made me a transparent dress which at least covers some of me.

but i dont have much choice in the clothes, my manager and stylists will decide based on the pictures they will see.

i wear each one of them, pose and wear the other. it goes on for two hours.

finally i collapse on the sofa and read the most violent book i can find, full of death and murder and mystery and blood.

the morning is me writing a song which is too messed up for anybody to read. i add it to my book which holds other songs like this one and essays and basically my writings. its like a diary except it could be written by a normal girl who goes to school everyday and has a normal life. i tuck it inside my pillow, hidden from everyone.

i reach the studio and rehearse my songs for the next album. i forced them to make it a little age appropriate for me. it doesn't have a unicorn on the cover.

and one of the sad songs that i wrote is my fave. its about how the world talks about love but prevents you from actually feeling love.

its called ' let me love' and its acoustic.

i spend a week constantly going to the studio, dress fitting, photo shooting or attending random parties alone.

this party is nothing new. will picks me up and we drive to the place, i dress up kin a red dress that has gold flowers in some places. he says i look beautiful and i smile and return the compliment.

you see, i dont like him and he doesn't either- i mean we are friends but none of us like each other in that sense. this is one more thing my manager messed up for me. we pretend to be each others 'bae' for media benefit. he has his secret girlfriend Natalie and i'd rather be alone.

when my manager and his set us up i had called him for coffee and as good as he looked i made him sit down and told him all about how i didnt want a boyfriend.

he told me about Natalie and we decided that we could pretend to be ln love on camera but off camera we could be strangers.

but insted of strangers we became friends.

the driver stops at a nightclub and we get out. i take his hand and we step inside the club to meet up with other stars who share our sadness and stress but hide it behind smiles, much like we do.

we dance and we drink and we smile and we kiss but we both know it means nothing. our acting is good and it helps us.

we click selfies and we hold hands and we pretend to enjoy.

at the end of the night he drops me off at my house,i say thank you and he hugs me and we say goodbye. i tell him to have fun with natalie and he tells me that fun doesnt even define it.

i lie down on my bed and sleep. i'm ruining my life and i know it.

in some other world i would have really liked will and we could have been a good pair but its not happenning here, in this world and its because im cracked from the inside. i'm afraid of love. i'm afraid that if i ever try falling in love with someone people will steal him from me.

a million other parties go by like this.

a million hours.

a million hours.

i talk with jaze sometimes but its nothing special. my manager visits me and so does my assistant. my mom asks me if she can visit but i tell her things are messed up and i need space.

she doesnt call back after that.

i leave more scars on myself and get a new hair colour. purple.

the next week gives me shit.

i get a text from jaze asking me where i am and i tell him that i am home.

he asks me if i forgot and i ask him what i forgot.

then i remeber and i run to get dressed and drive to my mothers home.

its my little brother's birthday.

i forgot. i forgot. i forgot.

i drive as fast as i can.

he turns eight today. i forgot. i moved out of the house after my lifestyle got to hard on our family. after i came home drunk one day. after my brother saw me drunk.

i forgot.

the cake has nine candles and all his friends and all distant relatives stand arond my little brother.

my mother hugs me and i hug her back. my brother looks like he might explode from joy. i lift him into my arms and hug him. i tell him his special gift is on the way.

my assistant will get it for me. thank god!

all my aunts and uncles hug me and all of my brothers friends stare mt me in awe. i see jaze stand near the t.v. he looks at me with dissapointment. i go over and give him a hug. i dont say sorry, i dont say anything at all. i just hug him hard snd hope he nderstand the meaning of my apology and how much he means to me.

i almost burst into tears. my years of fake smileing has lead me to always have a smile. so i stay sad inside, in secret.

i was so messed up with my life that i forgot my little brother's birthday. i ruin everything. my little brother is my everything. i need to cry but i also need to drink.

i wait till the guests start going home and then take my leave. i step in the car and start it but before i can speed off someone opens the other door and sits down.

jaze.

"what?!" i turn around, furious.

"you forgot" he also looks angry.

"i need to drink, let me go" i also need to cry but i cant tell im that, not now.

" what are you doing ker? how can you forget this?!" he thinks i did it on porpose!

"fine! ill go with or without you" i start driving to the nearest club. my driving is erratic and unfortunatly he seems unfrazed by it.

i remeber he was the one who taught me to drive.

"you need to get back on track, dont do this to yourself."

"look, jaze im fine. i'm okay. nothing is wront with me. i just forgot"

"then whats this?" he pulls my hand away from the gear and pulls the jacket sleeve up to reveal my scars.

"when did you see that?" i pull my hand away and place it on the steering wheel.

"you mean when did everyone see that!" now i worry.

"what do you mean by everyone?" did my mother see it? did my brother see my scars? what would he think

"when you lifted liam and no your mother did not see but wh ydo you do it? you cant do this! you need to stop!" i park my car in the club and we both get out of the car.

i pull my hair into my hood and let it cover my face. no one will recognize me anyway. no popstars use these places.

i pay a fat guy sitting on the door and he lets un both in after looking at the large amount of money.

the lights blind me but i keep moving to find two seats inside.

jaze sits accross from me and asks me about my scars again. i dont answer. he waits.

he knows i will spill all my secrets once i drink enought. and because he is here i dont need to drive home.

i order four drinks then shots. he drinks too but not as much as me. i am lost into a world of silence and peace. where faces blend into strangers and where lights dim enough so you dont have to look at anyone or anything.

he keeps asking me and finally when i dont spill anything but drinks he takes me to the car and drives.

i am waiting for the high to set it, the high wich makes me forget lyrics. the high which makes me lose all my senses, which makes it impossible for me to be alert.

when the high finally comes i answer, surprising myself.

"no one loves me, no one can and no one will because i dont let them" he answers but i dont catch the answer.

the car stops and he opens my door for me.

"its your home Karah"

i stagger up to the doorstep and hand him the keys to open the door. i walk to the extra room which can be reached without stairs, he comes in, looks back and then sits down beside me, too drunk to drive or walk or whatever.

"why cant i let anyone love me?"

"because u dont let them" he is drunk too, but not as much as me.

"wrong answer. its because i'm fucked up isnt it?"

author note: sooo how was it?i would really love it if you told me your thoughts on this story, good or bad. any feedback is good really. i hope you liked it! ill add more chapters soon!

:):):)