| Novemberdream I walk in slowly and take sight of you sitting on the ground, indian style with your bare feet tugged under your legs. I don't know what you're doing, how long you've been sitting there, but all you do is just stare at the wall. "Justin?", I whisper and wait patiently for an answer. You don't even blink. I sight, close the door quietly and turn around to face you. You sit frozen like a sculpture on the thin carpet. I clear my throat loudly, hoping to get your attention or even to make you notice you�re having company. Where is your mind now? I want to know, Justin, I really do. You've been acting very strange, lately, as if somebody else stole your body, banned your mind into a little corner of your head and kept you quiet for a while. I have nothing better to do right now, except of probably writing a chart breaker or going into a club and get a lapdance from god knows how many girls, but no. You are more important than the fun I should have had now. You know why? Do you want to know why I care so much, why I seem to waste my time staring at your dumb body and hoping the freezing November night to get warmer? Cause you are special, Justin. You are special to me. You�re all I ever had. My mother, I don�t know what she�s doing right now, where she is, who she�s talking to. I don�t know what the birthday party for my sister looked like. I don�t even know the new friends of my good old friends I had to leave in my hometown, when I decided joining that Mickey Mouse Club. I chuckle and remember the old times, when you still were the 15year old, cheesy boy with the wild curls and the thick scarf around your neck, because it was so cold in Europe. It was November. The image of you, stuffing white, sparkling snow into my pullover never seems to fade. It really was fun to fool around with you, Justin. Suddenly anger uncurls in my stomach and I feel it blossoming into fear. Why do you have to be like this? Who told you to change, Justin? Why am I afraid of my best friend? So I sit down next to you and watch your slim body, rising and falling lightly with the breaths you are still taking. Wow. You�re breathing. Good job, buddy. Breathe in, breath out, breathe in,�I catch myself making fun of you. I�m not supposed to do this. I should help you. Seriously. But I don�t know how. I keep my mouth shut and force myself to sit still next to you. The only sound in the room is your watch. This is scary, isn't it? You can hear a tiny watch in such a large apartment. You suddenly turn to me and I jump lightly, because I didn't expect you to take notice of me. Last Saturday it's been the worst 'blackout' you had. I use to call it a 'blackout', because there are no words, that could describe you in that moment any better. A total blackout. You snapped out of your little world, now. Whoa. First time in a few month you surprise me. "Josh?", you ask now a little confused. "Yeah, it's me." I sight and put my hand on yours. It�s cold and sweaty and I feel my skin sticking on yours. "Where are they?" You look around searching the guys, I guess. "Club or somewhere.", I mumble and take my hand back. You are acting really strange now. I sometimes have these 'blackouts', too. When I think intensely about something, read a book, that drags all my senses into another world or if I sleep very, very deep. This is normal, but what you have, doesn�t seem healthy to me. I fear you are sick or something. "Why don't you take a shower and then we talk?", I suggest. You just shake your head and have this shallow look in your eyes again. Before you can block out the world before my eyes again, I grab your arms, pull you forcefully onto your legs and slap you hardly into your face. This is really hard for me, but I can�t take the sight of you, staring motionless at the white wall anymore. "Sh*t, Justin, wake up!" I slap you again and my palm comes crashing against your soft cheeks. If you keep on going �night night�, how Chris calls it jokingly, I promise to beat the crap out of you, even if it takes to call the ambulance for you. I can't see you like this anymore. I�d rather see you crying, see you hurting or cheering, see you loving or hating, but not dumb. Not dumb like this. Hate me, love me (not in that way), make me cheering, Justin, or cry on my shoulder. I�m the only one, who seems to be crying. I often cry about things. About ex-girlfriends, about my senseless life, about not having any privacy or simply about a person, who lost himself in his world. About my best friend, going �night night� at day, when sun shines bright and I would have given everything to shoot some hoops with this friend. If you haven�t realised yet, Justin, this person is you. Did I already mention, you are special to me? Yeah, I guess. "JUSTIN!", I scream and shake your shoulders. "Yeah,.. I...SCREW IT JOSH! I'M HERE!" I look at you in disbelieve. Your eyes are serious now, you look directly into my face and I know you are back, out of your little 'Justin world'. God thanks. I sigh in relief and let go off of your shoulders. "Damn Justin, you are scaring me! Stop...'blacking out' like this!" You laugh and shake your head. "You don't understand, JC.� �Then explain me! Explain me why you�re changing like this, explain me why you haven�t listened to your 2Pac CDs in over a few months and please explain what the heck is going on with you!� You chuckle, push me back and try to turn me around, wanting me to face the door. �The door is right here." You want me to go? You really want me to leave? I'm wasting my rare free time with trying to get you back to your life and you throw me out of your room? Is that what I deserve for being your only left friend? Is that your thank you, Justin? I stare at you, burn my blue eyes deep into yours and really would love to have a stick or something to smack you hard on your head. There�s no way to bring you back to your senses. Sometimes I want to give up, lead my own life and ignore you, but then I find myself in your room again, watching over you while you stare at the empty wall. Now you ignore me, stand up and turn away. I'm a patient person and you know that Justin, but there's nothing I hate more but being ignored by people. Especially if these specific people are or were my friends. So I grab your shoulder, spin you around again and hit you forcefully into your face. Again. Everything is repeating. I�m living in the Matrix. I�m Neo and you�re� the pretty girl? I can�t remember how she was called, but we watched the movie together. Not in a movie theatre, like usual people would do it. We watched it in your apartment, the two of us sitting on your bed and having a great with eating strawberries (you loved them with too much sugar) and watching the film on a tape. We often did that. Watching tapes in your apartment. I still see you in front of me, smiling, laughing and licking the spoon, on that still the sugar stuck. It always made you kinda high. You are down now, really down. Your mood seems to have dug a grave under the basement and then died there. I chuckle at the thought. My chuckle is eliminated fast by the devil look you shoot at me. You knew this would come sooner or later. You knew I would smack you someday. You just knew. Before you can rip me into a thousand pieces I open the door, step out into the warm hallway and walk away. I don�t turn around. I know you�re not looking after me, you don�t even dare to. My steps lead me to my apartment and before I am able to unlock the door to lock myself into the my bathroom, I wince. You slammed the door pretty loud, Justin. Don�t you care about the poor people, who have to share the same hotel with you? No, you definitely don�t care. I hurry into my room, slam the door with the palm of my hand and collapse onto the floor. I never thought I would loose you, Justin. This is really hard. Curse Joey, curse Chris and curse Lance for not taking enough care of you, for not looking after you and especially curse you, Justin, for being irresponsible, like you are. Why didn�t you tell me? Why didn�t you fall around my neck and sob your inner feelings into my chest? Why can�t you be 15 again? I never meant to let this grow so far. I never wanted you to become the way you are, so I apologize now. I apologize for not realizing whatever brought you to the point of insanity that you need to block out reality to survive. I apologize for calling you crazy, Justin, but sometimes I just can�t help but see a psycho in you and not my best friend. I apologize for being me. I apologize for everything that hurt you, everything I missed to do that could have helped you. I�m just tired now. Tired and sad. So I close my eyes, curl together to a ball, down on the carpet and hope sleep to come fast. You laugh at me, showing your white, perfect teeth. Then you wrap your arm around my shoulder poke me into the side and I struggle, falling over you and tangling our limbs. I tickle you and you laugh, try to get free of my grip and chuckle under my power loaded body. You sit up now, throwing me off of your chest and pinning my wrists on the ground. We laugh. We laugh together, we�re happy and lucky to have each other and to have a person to call �My best friend�� I wake up. Lately my dreams have been torturing me. Lately you�ve been acting strange, did I already metion? I�m sorry. My eyelids flutter open and I find myself crouched on the thick carped, sweat all over my body and shivering. I stand up, hardly able to use my weak legs and shuffle slowly to my bed. It�s cold, freezing cold. I hide under the covers and let the tears fall freely. It makes no sense to keep it all inside. F*ck Justin. I hate you for doing this to me, I hate myself for letting you do this, I just hate everything right now. I hate. I can hate. Suddenly I�m glad I can still hate. Life must suck, if you can�t hate, if you can�t love, can�t cheer and can�t cry. Right, Justin? I have to remind myself again, that you�re my best friend. My best friend, lost in the mind of an as*hole. I don�t know if I should hate or have pity with you. Hate for acting like sh*t, pity for how deep you sunk. Maybe I should just ignore you? Maybe I should search new friends, leaving you in your insanity, just leave you all alone? I could have a great time with Chris, Joey or Lance. I even have other friends. Somewhere I left them behind, I doubt they have my address or my cellnumber, but it�s calming to know, you have friends somewhere in this big world. I close my eyes. I hate the November. You seem to be tripped in it. Tripped in a month, tripped under ice, tripped in a cage. It�s always November in your little world. It�s always dark, it�s always cold and wet and uncomfortable. You don�t have a fire to sit in front of, you don�t have a girlfriend to cuddle in he cold days, when it�s raining outside, you don�t even have a roof over your head. That�s what I think you must be living. That�s the image I have burning in front of my eyes, when I see you going �night night�. You, standing on the concrete, weed forcing it�s way through the stone and smashed trunks around you. Yes, I think of war, poverty and hunger, when I see you like this. It�s cold, rainy, you�re wet all over. The grey curls stick on your forehead and your young face screams of sadness. It�s a horrible image. Seeing you among trunks, weed, puddles, fog and dead trees isn�t fun. Sometimes I can�t see the sky through the thick fog, sometimes black clouds cover the sky and eat up the baby blue horizon. They eliminate your favourite color. I bet you prefer now black or grey. Babyblue is a happy color. Only happy people like babyblue, you�re definitely not happy with your situation, so,... nevermind. I�m telling stuff about puddles and babyblue, Justin, you must be driving me insane. That�s why I pinch my eyelids shut, roll on my other side and fall fast into a slumber and then into a deep sleep, still searching for ways to bring you back to your senses. I really care about you. I hope you care about me, too. I beg anybody cares about the two of us, because without you I feel as lonely as Robinson Crusoe on his island, when he still was in a loss of Friday. Friday,... soon November is over. I can feel it. It�s getting colder. I feel myself smiling in my sleep, because I have the feeling, I�ll have you back before the first snow falls. ~*~ I talked with Lance about you. He said he feared you took drugs. I never thought of that. Is that your little secret? You are addicted on this sh*t? Sorry, I can�t believe this. You are irresponsible, but not brainless, you know what�s allowed and what not. You would never shot yourself up, inhale cannabis or swallow XTC, right? Once I caught you in the men�s restroom with a cigarette, but you were only 15. It was easy for you to get that stuff in Europe, so why shouldn�t you buy and smoke it? I understand that, I was the same, when I was a teenager. But you would never do drugs. I sit now on your bed and don�t know what to do. Again. We are all alone, the guys are in a club, a bar or other places, where they can get their fun. Only I sit here and watch over you, cause I fear you are going to do something stupid. It�s just this feeling and before I risk to lose you, while you cut your wrists or something, I sit here and look after you. I spot your guitar, sitting next to the bed. I could drag you to a park or into the woods if it stopped raining, but I guess this is OK, too. The guitar fits perfect in my lap and when I check the strings, I notice you haven�t played in a while, because your guitar�s slightly out of tune. Who cares? I doubt you will even listen to my play, but it�s a try worth. �Hey Justin.� You don�t react. The wall must be very interesting. �Can I play on your guitar a little?� No response. �Thanks buddy.� I sit directly next to you, my fingers brush over the strings and I smile. This is better than any medicine. The melody just floats out of your wonderful, black guitar. When did you stop playing, I ask myself, because the strings are new and still sparkle in the dim light. �Do you want to write a song with me, Justin?�, I ask the side of your body. I tug on your sleeve like a little kid and ask again. �Juuuuustin!�, I sooth into your ear and stroke some curls out of your face. They are soft and I can hardly suppress the urge to stick my nose into them and breathe in deeply. I�m sure they�d smell wonderful. I lay down the guitar and wrap my arms around your slim hip. Do you know how much I miss you? It�s eating me up from deep inside, like a parasite or something. I sigh, bury my face into your shoulder and feel the muscles in your body tense lightly. We sit like that for a few minutes. I don�t want to move, I don�t want to let you go, but it�s late. It�s very late and we�ll have a hard day tomorrow. �Do you know how much I miss you?� I want to talk. I want to talk with you, because you�ve always been the understanding one, the patient and wise one, even if you hide it now pretty good. You�re caged deep inside yourself, somewhere in a dark place with clouds, dirty puddles and smashed trunks, but I�ll find you. I won�t give up, until I have you back. I want you back. Seriously. You�re all I ever wanted, all I ever needed, so tell me what to do now, cause I want you back. I mumble words into your ear, I don�t remember what I said, but it must have been my inner thoughts and feelings, because you react. I remember my mouth next to your ear, soothing calming words and telling you about my mind, when you suddenly turn around and look me into the eyes. You haven�t looked at me like that in months. Your blue eyes are deep and bright, shining like diamonds in the glittering sea. The only sound in the room is the rain, knocking on your window. I remember it�s the last Novemberday. You blink, search in my eyes for something and I wonder what I must have said to you, that you look at me that way. I guess I told you the old thing, the �Tell me about your life, about your feelings, Josh.�. You always asked me that, when you were scared, sad or simply tired and I would always tell you something about me and my little world and you would always listen to me with wide, innocent eyes. These were the good, old times. Times we left far behind us. I breathe in deeply and don�t dare to tear my eyes away from yours, because I�m afraid of loosing your eyes forever. �Tell me about yourself, Josh.� I freeze. I told you everything, I guess. My mind is blank, I don�t know what to say and panic overwhelms me. What if I can�t tell you something about me any more? Will you be disappointed? Will you turn away, stare at the wall and ignore me for the rest of my life? I swallow hard. What did I do? �I told you everything, Justin.� �No, not exactly everything.� Your voice is smooth against my skin, like melody in my ears and I can�t control the goose bump, wandering up my spine. �Do you still love me?� I laugh at that. Love you? I adore you Justin, you�re my best friend, how could I not love you? I smile at this simple question. I want to say �yes�, want to tell you how much I suffered, how much I missed you, but I guess I already have that behind me, because my throat is dry and sore and I can�t get out no sound. Gosh, I can�t remeber one word, I said. What did I say to you? What did I say to �wake� you? God knows. I could ask him, but I doubt he�ll response. �Do you love me?�, you ask again, tears standing in your eyes. I scoot closer, take your hand into mine. It�s warm and soft and I smile. �Of course I do, Justin. I always did.� Your lower lip starts to quiver and I feel your hand trembling lightly. What�s going on inside you? �I�m sorry.� Your voice cracks and I can�t believe I see tears rolling down your cheeks. You want to hide your face behind your hands, but I take them away, wrap my arms around you and press your warm body against mine. I can�t believe this. All you needed was somebody saying he loved you. You sob against my shoulder, I pat your back and you climb into my lap. The guitar sits next to us and I listen to the clock, stroking midnight. It�s December. First December. A look out of the window tells me the dark, dull rain is gone. White, glittering snow flocks float through the air now, they light the room, light up your face, as you back away to look into my eyes. �I�m tired.�, you mumble and rub away the tears with your hands. You rise to your feet and stretch out your hand to help me up. I grab it slowly, you pull me onto my feet and we stand face to face. I know what you want. You want me to sleep this night in your bed, join you in your dreams and hold you tight, because you�re cold and afraid. I can see it in your eyes. You plead me to and it works pretty good. I push you gentle to the bed and laugh: �Go! You convinced me.� You grin triumphal, sit down on the covers and wait patiently for me. �JC?�, I hear you saying. �Yeah?� �Thanks.� I smile, lay down under the covers and pull them tight around the two of us. �No problem.� I feel myself doze of and the last thing I hear is you, mumbling �I love you, too, Josh� and then we both fall asleep in each other arms. |