MajsiQ

When he was on stage, he was one person. Dealing with fans, he was another. Taking photos, yet another; working in the studio, another; talking with his band mates, another. For every instance in his life, he had a different mask to wear. Sometimes, he was aloof, distance, cold, sometimes amiable, sometimes, he wasn't even sure if he was human anymore. It was a constant switch, the swapping of faces for one that suited him better for the day, and increasingly more and more, he felt his pile of masks grow taller and taller, to the point in which his own face had become a blank canvas. Who was he? What face defined him? Was he simply one of th

He was not the kind of man to get close to people. He was not the kind of person that let himself open up to people, the kind of person that hit it off instantly the moment he met a person. For him to feel that warm jolt in his stomach, that skip in his heart, that tightening of his lungs, it took more effort than anyone had been willing to put forth. But this boy, this man, was entirely different. Fresh out of his teenage years, with long, blue-tinted hair that came down to the middle of his back, and an air about him that oozed excitement, child-like wonder, and hidden desires that one just couldn't help but want to indulge in. He clutched

4 AM was another packet of Marlboro Reds, it was standing in the blisteringly chilly night on a hard balcony, cold sweat evaporating off of his skin as shaky fingers brought the cigarette to his chapped lips. It was breaking down his hardened walls as he jolted out of a restless sleep, chest heaving and partner-in-crime snoozing away, as always; nothing seemed to phase him. It was a crack in his exterior, a chip in the wall that he was always sure to patch up and fill in by the time the sun peaked over the abandoned apartment complexes surrounding him. 4:30 AM was cold toes against concrete, exposed to the elements when usually so covered up