31- Confussion

Confusion

Same world: World II

September 14, 2016.

My steps weigh on me as if I had lead in my feet. One after another, they become more complicated than they should. If someone in some corner of the world wonders why this happens to me, I can summarize it in a few words: lack of sleep.

Yes, this is the result of thinking all night about the letter that appeared in my room after talking with Mr. Chad. I must have only managed to sleep, I don't know, an hour or two. I'm not sure. If I had managed to reach 3, well… it wouldn't be so bad, right? Heavens. I understand that sleeping in intervals of an hour and a half helps to not be sleepy. When I was nineteen, if I slept three hours, I was fresh as lettuce all day. Instead, today I feel like dying and I have work the whole damn day.

It's only Tuesday and I already want it to be the weekend.

Dakota had breakfast with me before we both went our separate ways. The good thing is that she appeared as always: radiant, cheerful, and smiling. I thanked her for her effort every day, or at least I think I did. I was babbling a lot and I don't know if she understood me. I hope she did or I failed as a friend of communicators. That would be the last straw.

She also left me a note on the table. She left the house before me. I still don't dare to read it. In fact, I've avoided doing anything that requires extreme concentration, because it could end up in an irreparable mistake. That's why I decided to take a taxi today instead of driving to the studio. If I fell asleep on the road, it could have been a catastrophe. In any case, several people offer to drive me to work out of fear that I might pass out on the road.

—Hey boss, are you on this planet? Please come back soon. The journey back to Earth is very long.

I take a few seconds to take a deep breath and inhale some patience from the air. I think it's useless. The patience I obtained disappears as I exhale and I feel just as frustrated as before. I bite my lips a few times before flashing the most cynical smile I can show someone.

"Yes, Trevor. You're right. It's necessary to set foot on the ground to land, right?" I mention. This guy rolls his eyes.

"Boss, we are only a few years apart in age. You should relax a bit," he scoffs. "Is this how I'll be at 23? At this rate, I'll end up hating life. I'm starting to understand why the 27 Club exists."

I lick my lips in an attempt to hold back the fire that is burning so much in my chest. Unfortunately, Trevor is almost always the first artist I have to deal with in the mornings. This is when I would love to be with Milton. I'm more concerned about being stressed out from lack of words than from excessive teenage verbosity.

"We could start the 23 Club then," I mutter. I can't think of anything less stupid to say.

"Uh, boss. That sounds awful," he puts aside his headphones and crosses the door that separates the microphone from the studio machinery. Then, he puts a hand on my shoulder. "Although I confess that it seems like a great idea to create a new song. Something like 'The Catastrophe of Life at 23'. Many bitter twenty-year-olds like you would relate to it!"

Oh, heavens. Give me patience because if you give me strength, I might just throw him out the window.

"Taylor Swift released the song '22' a few years ago, Trevor. It wouldn't be anything new."

"She spoke about the joy of being 22, boss. I could do the opposite."

"You're nowhere near 23, Trevor."

"I'll use the people around me as reference. It'll be a piece of cake."

I exhale through my mouth. Although it's hard to admit, Trevor's idea is interesting. Many people struggle during their twenties and need a musical break from time to time.

"Do you think you can write something decent about the idea you just gave me?"

"Of course, boss! I'm a genius, after all."

"And compose the song?" I inquire.

"Well, buddy, take it easy. Let's go step by step."

Incredibly, I end up laughing. This spoiled child is beyond help. He really needs some correction at some point or he'll give me so many gray hairs that not even dye could cover them.

"Go back to recording. We have a pending EP."

"Does EP mean money?"

"Whatever you say, Trevor. Just move forward."

After that episode, the morning passes slowly, but not so much as to torture me. At lunchtime, I choose a classic cheese sandwich. I don't have much appetite, so I force myself to take a cup of coffee. I have no other choice if I have to deal with the rest of the work hours.

Once I'm seated, I rummage in my pockets before finding the paper that has robbed me of sleep. I read it again to see if I come to a different conclusion that seems less strange, but once again, my fried brain doesn't send me an answer. I know that the supposed sender asked me to destroy this letter, but I don't feel capable of doing it yet.

"Hey, buddy. You're about to be destroyed," Theo sits down with me and laughs. Sometimes I worry that he can read minds. "Did a truck run over you before coming here? Because you don't look like someone who has received a favor."

"I'm going to die of laughter, Trevor. Just look at me. I'm going to disfigure myself from laughing so much," I point to my poker face.

"Oh. So we woke up bitter today," he says, his eyes traveling across the table until they find the paper. On instinct, I put it in my pocket. "What's that?"

"Nothing important," I say, and start eating to avoid having to say more about it.

"Hey, hey. Slow down. You're going to choke if you eat like that," he laughs softly. "How are things with Dakota? I haven't seen her in a while."

I chew slower after hearing him ask. That makes me think that I haven't checked the note she left me this morning. I have it in the pocket of my pants and I don't remember taking it out. I must admit that all the nervousness had made me forget about it.

"Everything's fine," I limit myself to responding.

"Few words, Montjoy. Sounds like an excellent title for a book about your days of bitterness."

I continue to hesitate. I doubt many things. For some reason, which may make sense at some point, I receive images of Theo in a distant and lonely house. And I see the two of us there, talking about strange and depressing things. The scene of him handing me a strange notebook appears as well, and Dakota was there with us. As has been happening to me lately, they are moments that I don't remember having lived.

It seems like I'm observing Theo more than I should because he raises his eyebrows several times and curves his lips mischievously.

"You flatter me, buddy, but I don't get involved with committed people."

My face reddens and I give him a slap on the shoulder when he starts to burst out laughing.

"You're an idiot, Theo."

I need to understand all of this soon before I go crazy. Did I ever complain about calmness? Because it seems like I can't handle a couple of problems.