Written in These Walls

I sit and stare at white walls, all is quiet right now. I have come to crave the quiet. Some times I catch myself almost in a trance with no thoughts.

The walls and I often have conversations, they scream for me to paint them. Often I do but the outcome is never what I imagined. What starts off with bright colors and thick outlines, turns into muted blurred colors, seeping out of their boundaries. Too many brushes and cans have been flung across the room, other walls bear witness to this.

I am the painter, the artist, I am the one in control of my works. They laugh and mock me, how can I be when I have no control over some of the simpler things of everyday life.

My foot bounces lightly on the floor, I recognize the rhythm and chuckle within myself. I cant leave it, my body wont even let me have solitude. My mind, well, sometimes its all it thinks about.

My body aches for the habit I wish I could quit. My hands sometimes on their own, find their way to my mouth. I rise from the couch and pick up the pack, taking one out. The lighter sits by the back door reminding me to go outside. I grab it as I open the door and step out into the chilly air.

I stand and look out over the back yard, maybe a little frost on the grass still. I blow smoke rings into the cold air, then knock them down with my hand, only to make more. I decide to venture off the deck and onto the grass. Its wet and yes, frost, it crunches as I walk on it. I turn to look at my footsteps, and decide to walk backwards in them, not quite as easy as I had thought.

Once on the deck again, I finish my smoke and put it out in planter along with the hundreds of others that have met their demise there. The planter, an idea of my mum's. I suspect she will be calling soon to check on me.

I've sent everyone away. Security, assistants, minders, friends, the girlfriend, gone. The girlfriend has been gone a long time, emotionally and physically. I do my thing, she does hers. We could never seem to find 'our' thing.

I step back into the house and welcome its silence once again. The noises I have heard in my life, most will never hear. Still again, its the everyday noises that get on your nerves the most. The cell phone ringing or the almost inaudible vibrate sets me on edge. I know where my phone is, I choose for it to not be near me right now. I've been in stadiums where hundred sometimes thousands of girls have screamed my name. The shriek of a teenage girl spotting me sends me sometimes into defense mode making me thankful for ever present security. Its the small sounds you miss, a baby's laughter, a tea kettle whistling, wind blowing through trees, those you miss.

I decide to head to my gym and try to work out this mood I woke up in. I start on the treadmill and set the desired time and hope I can make it to the end. Since being home, this has not been a priority, it should be, I know it would help with my moods. I decide to put in earbuds, bringing the sounds closer, more defined. I run and sing until I find it hard to sing in complete sentences. It doesnt take long to feel the sweat on my shirt, beads forming on my forehead, my hair getting wet. I look at my time and decide to extend it, I'm doing better than I thought. I run til my legs feel as though they cant hold me up. I rest my feet on either side of the belt turning it off and getting my bearings to some degree. I step off and immediately head to the shower. I toss the earphones on the bed and check my phone. Just as I suspected, many missed calls and double that on text messages. I check to see if any left messages and see two. I'll return their calls later, maybe.

After showering and getting dressed I step into my studio and put the head set on listening to some things I worked on months ago but put aside to sort my head out, still sorting, but things are becoming clearer.
Clearer. I need to break from all of this. I need to get out and see something other than these four walls. I need to expand my horizons more than a tour bus or jet can provide.

I adjust the controls trying to find the sound I'm looking for, I'm getting closer, still not quite there. I pick up my phone, I know who I want to call, but am I ready?

I move things around and find my tour journal and look though it, totally forgetting about the music coming through. I flip through and find some words I had written down to possibly make into a song. I decide to go back to the beginning and start reading. It's truly amazing how much someone can grow in a matter of months, or how far someone can rise or fall in a matter of days. Reading it brings up good memories and some emotions I wish I could forget. I get a few pages in and decide to put it down, most of it too heavy for right now.

I start to pick up my phone to make that call and I am reminded of the me from five years ago. My hopes and dreams, what I wanted out of life. This was never in my wildest dreams. I have more money than most can imagine, I haveworld wide fame. My face has graced the cover of hundreds of magazines. I have awards sitting in a glass cabinet, more quite possibly to follow. This, none of this, was my original plan.

How does one go from being a kid who wants to teach to being a world renown recording artist? A mum. She sees the potential and wants only the best for her only son. She's my biggest fan, always with an encouraging word and hug.

I decide I'm getting out of here, somewhere. Somewhere I can sit and write, look at nature and reflect. Set priorities and possibly push restart. Leave this and just go.

Its nothing unlike me to go off the grid, I do it often.

I reach for my phone and dial my best mates number. He answers on the second ring. We talk for almost an hour and he leaves me with, "Call when you get back", nothing but words of encouragement and understanding. I knew he would understand, he always does.

I have no idea where I'm going as I go through one of my bags and pull out my passport. I've been all over the world and seen all sorts of places. I've also been to places where I saw nothing more than hotel walls. I throw clothes in a bag and other essentials. I make flight arrangements to take me to see another friend. I can hide out there for a couple of days til I make my final decision.

I check myself in the mirror. There is no disguising who I am. If not my face that gets recognized it will be the tattoos, even the ones on my hands. I run my hands through my hair and put it up.

A text comes through alerting me a jet is at my disposal. I grab my bag, keys and head to the airport.