Do All Rockstars Go To Hell?, chapter 2

There was rumbling coming from the tunnel at the end of the station. Finally. I placed the guitar on top of the money and snapped the lid shut. I slung my book sack over my shoulder and walked off the platform and into the train. Every seat was full so I had to stand.

The doors slid shut and I held onto the bar as the train lurched forward. I looked at the people sitting down around me. About fifty seats and each one with an ass in them.

I noticed a little girl who wouldn't stop staring at me. She looked about four or five. I smiled at her. All she did was blink. "Hannah," her mother corrected, "It's not nice to stare." She looked up and smiled at me then quickly went back to the magazine she was reading. The little girl named Hannah kept staring at me.

"Are you a man oraw a lady?" she asked after a while. I smirked.
"Hannah! '" Her mother lectured, "That is not nice! Apologize right now!"
"But I didn't do any wong!"
"Do it!"
"Sowwie, mistaw."

"It's alright," I said. I do wear eyeliner and my hair is long. I keep it spiked everywhere. People mistake me for Lou Taylor Pucci sometimes.

The train stopped about ten minutes later and everyone frantically tried to get out all at once. I tried to step on the platform but someone pushed into me, making me drop my book sack and nearly knocking me to the ground. "Watch it, crack ah," I black guy said, scowling at me. "Stupid nigger," I said under my breath, picking up my book sack.

Yeah, I'm racist. Who cares? I know I'm only thirteen but, I don't care. I'm tired of niggers making fun of me because I'm white. Yeah, so what if I wear eyeliner? I bet if Pete Wentz or Billie Joe Armstrong walked passed that they wouldn't be laughing at them.

I walked up the cold, wet steps to the even colder and wetter streets of Brooklyn. I let out a breath. I could see it. I raised the hood on my black jacket. Damn it's cold.

I walked to my sister's dorm. The whole eleven blocks. I can't afford a cab. Even with all the money that I earned today.

I unlocked the door and walked in. "Hey, Chris," My sister, Julia said from her desk, "How'd the audition go?"
"Terrible."
"What happened?"
"You know me and those fucking damn high notes."
"Oh. But do you think you got it?"
"Maybe. I don't know."

I'd auditioned earlier that day for a gig at a Starbuck's this Saturday. It didn't go so well. They seemed a little impressed, but, I don't think I made it.

I sat down on Julia's bed and took out my guitar. She spotted the money. "Whoa!" She said getting up, "Where'd all that come from?"
"I was bored at the subway so I decided I might as well make a little extra cash," I said, trying to tune the sixth string.

"Hey, guys!" Amanda said walking in through the door. She's my sister's roommate. "Hey, Chris," she said, "How'd the gig go?" I told her what I had told Julia.

Amanda and Julia started to study by themselves which signaled that it was time for me to start playing. They like to have music while they're studying, and since we can't afford a stereo...

I never
Said I'd lie and wait forever
If I died, we'd be together now
I can't always just forget her
But she could try

At the end of the world
All I can see you are
Never coming home
Never coming home
Could I? Should I?
And all the things that you never ever told me
For all the smiles that are ever ever...
Ever...

Get the feeling that you're never
All alone and I remember now
At the top of my lungs in my arms she dies
She dies

At the end of the world
Or the last thing I see
You are
Never coming home
Never coming home
Could I? Should I?
And all the things that you never ever told me
And all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me
Never coming home
Never coming home
Could I? Should I?
And all the wounds that are ever gonna scar me
For all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me

If I fall
If I fall

At the end of the world
Or the last thing I see
You are
Never coming home
Never coming home
Never coming home
Never coming home
And all the things that you never ever told me
And all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me
Never coming home
Never coming home
Could I? Should I?
And all the wounds that are ever gonna scar me
For all the ghosts that are never gonna...

The song speaks to me. In a way, it is me.