Wake Me Up When The Madness Ends, chapter 1
Billie's POV
"What the hell am I supposed to do?" I wondered to myself as I sat down on the couch and turned the television on. As usual, there was nothing on right now, or any day of the week for that matter. It was really starting to become a bother, for I never really did much of anything anymore.
Nothing seemed to ever be going right anymore in my world. A lot of things have been taking a toll on me for the past few months now, especially the pressure of making a new album with the band. I have been depressed for a while now, and not exactly sure why. Adrienne, Mike, and Tré have been doing everything in their power to help me out, but nothing ever seems to work. Adrienne has even suggested seeing a professional, but I have declined the offer countless times before.
"Billie, what is the fucking problem all of a sudden? You're not yourself."
I looked down at the floor, hiding myself from her. "I don't know, Adrienne. If I did I would tell you, don't you think?
"In my opinion, it's your life and I think you should just because every so often you get this way. But, why don't you see a professional? They could help you more then I am right now, even to Mike and Tré."
I looked up, shocked and taken aback at what she had said. "No, that is something that I WILL NOT do! I have my friends and family; I don't need a fucking shrink.
She sighed. I could tell that I was acting very difficult to deal with right now. "Do it for the kids at least then, Billie. They know when something isn't right with you because you are their father. They ask me everyday, constantly, what is wrong with you and then I am put on the spot when I can't answer that simple question. I can't even say that you are very sad right now because that will lead to even MORE questions."
Great, thank you for making me feel guilty honey.
"If I think and put some thought into it, will that make you happy at least for now?"
She thought for a second, than responded. "I would have loved to hear a yes from you, but I understand that that will take some more time," she gave me a peck on the cheek, "everything will be okay in time. I know that it will be."
I sighed. I wish that was something I could believe.
And that is what had led me to watching television. We fought about that earlier, and I knew that there was no way I could get around it. I needed help, but I wasn't about to get my ass up to be bothered to do anything about it.
I turned on CNN and saw that they were showing war images and events that have been happening out in Iraq. Watching that even made me more depressed, and I wasn't the one out there fucking fighting. A war; do we really need this right now? I don't fucking think so, Bush.
But figures while I was sitting there, I was thinking of a song to write. And suddenly, lyrics came into my head:
Don't want to be an American idiot.
"Sounds like it could be a good song; we lost everything else anyway." I mumbled to myself.
I took out my notebook from underneath the couch cushion and started to write it. Experimenting wouldn't hurt me, right? It probably would be a good song anyway. And, I will show it to Mike and Tré tomorrow.
"What the hell am I supposed to do?" I wondered to myself as I sat down on the couch and turned the television on. As usual, there was nothing on right now, or any day of the week for that matter. It was really starting to become a bother, for I never really did much of anything anymore.
Nothing seemed to ever be going right anymore in my world. A lot of things have been taking a toll on me for the past few months now, especially the pressure of making a new album with the band. I have been depressed for a while now, and not exactly sure why. Adrienne, Mike, and Tré have been doing everything in their power to help me out, but nothing ever seems to work. Adrienne has even suggested seeing a professional, but I have declined the offer countless times before.
"Billie, what is the fucking problem all of a sudden? You're not yourself."
I looked down at the floor, hiding myself from her. "I don't know, Adrienne. If I did I would tell you, don't you think?
"In my opinion, it's your life and I think you should just because every so often you get this way. But, why don't you see a professional? They could help you more then I am right now, even to Mike and Tré."
I looked up, shocked and taken aback at what she had said. "No, that is something that I WILL NOT do! I have my friends and family; I don't need a fucking shrink.
She sighed. I could tell that I was acting very difficult to deal with right now. "Do it for the kids at least then, Billie. They know when something isn't right with you because you are their father. They ask me everyday, constantly, what is wrong with you and then I am put on the spot when I can't answer that simple question. I can't even say that you are very sad right now because that will lead to even MORE questions."
Great, thank you for making me feel guilty honey.
"If I think and put some thought into it, will that make you happy at least for now?"
She thought for a second, than responded. "I would have loved to hear a yes from you, but I understand that that will take some more time," she gave me a peck on the cheek, "everything will be okay in time. I know that it will be."
I sighed. I wish that was something I could believe.
And that is what had led me to watching television. We fought about that earlier, and I knew that there was no way I could get around it. I needed help, but I wasn't about to get my ass up to be bothered to do anything about it.
I turned on CNN and saw that they were showing war images and events that have been happening out in Iraq. Watching that even made me more depressed, and I wasn't the one out there fucking fighting. A war; do we really need this right now? I don't fucking think so, Bush.
But figures while I was sitting there, I was thinking of a song to write. And suddenly, lyrics came into my head:
Don't want to be an American idiot.
"Sounds like it could be a good song; we lost everything else anyway." I mumbled to myself.
I took out my notebook from underneath the couch cushion and started to write it. Experimenting wouldn't hurt me, right? It probably would be a good song anyway. And, I will show it to Mike and Tré tomorrow.
