Shoot 006: Survival Songs (D Minor)

"...wanna know everything… about my girl." Lex smiled, "tell me your stories."

Jana blushed, "my stories consist of travelling with Mom and Todd around the world, what everyone's told me about my Dad, and high school." She gave him a very sardonic look, "really HEAVY stuff, for a 19-year-old."

"High school." He chuckled, "wrestlin' – same cliques. No different'n it is now, torn 'tween the jocks an' gearheads. Gave up lunch breaks for extra credit, fixin' that junker we had. Lemme guess," he pretended to consider it, brow furrowing, "cheerleader? Drama club? Somethin' outgoin'."

"Library Aide," she sheepishly smiled, "and Glee Club. I always had my nose in a book, though Mom thought I had a nice singing voice. Just a little strange when they want you to sing My Heart Will Go On and instead they get Fancy and Suds in the Bucket."

Lex nodded, "Fancy. I know that one. Great song," he smiled, kissing her forehead as she tilted her head back to look up at him. "For the record, that shit from Titanic's awful," he kissed her temple, sighing, "heard you sing in the shower. Your mom's right."

She covered her face, cheeks flaring red. "Nine minutes for–"

"Conditioning," he chuckled, shaking head at her embarrassment. "I know. You told me. In Vegas." He gently took her hands from her face, "it's a Jana thing–"

She cut him off with a kiss. "Don't tell anyone."

"Sang Elvis for you," he murmured, "we're even."

"Be careful in your match with Trixie." The teasing turned serious, "wanna hear more Elvis from you."

"If they even let me out there to fight her." He sighed as she ran her fingers down his chest, watching him for any tells, "ribs're still tender."

"If you're hurt already, what's more damage, right?"

"Damage heals." The truth in those words cut deep. He caught his breath, eyes locked on hers. "I'll finish her quick," he promised.

"These last few weeks, I'm starting to get that fish-outta-water feelin', y'know? The more I get, the less I want it so I bite my tongue, clam right up. Silence becomes golden, this coveted thing to where I'm struck mute, all my best intentions drug out behind the barn an' shot. I still don't know why – that goddamned question came back to haunt me. What did I do?

That bothers me more'n anythin' else. The unknown makes me second-guess too much an' now I'm teeterin' on the precipice of this damned void, trying my best to distance myself from the hole yawnin' at my heels. It could be the pit of despair. It could be my grave. It could be a lot of things but right now, it's the thing I'm doing my best to deny. I'm caught going over it all with a fine-toothed comb – whose cornflakes did I piss in today? Vulgar, I know… but, see, it's like that. It's crass. It's sudden an' spontaneous in the worst kinda way. Maybe it was somethin' I said, somethin' you think I did – looked at you wrong. Scoffed at an accomplishment. Took a name in vain. Been there before. An' I know the ol' track record don't matter – on the topic of greatness, there's not much I can say.

That's not me playin' at humility like I was preachin' at Hello Kitty last week. Nah. It's just... realism, I guess. Seen good views, but I've never been to the absolute top of the mountain. There've been plateaus, of course. Funny thing in all this nonsense... I... haven't had a drink in months. Used to have a few beers 'fore I sat down for these little missives – liquid courage to loosen the tongue. Throw the switch on the filters. Never saw that comin' an' now I wonder if the next step'll be donning the hat, takin' the wheel, becomin' the captain of this ship of fools. Peter Pan grew up. Stopped crowin'."

There's a protracted sigh.

"Cameras roll, it all gets amped up – bombastic-as-fuck – someday this place's gonna burn. Heads'll turn. Heads'll roll. Can feel it in the air an' it reminds me of those dark days where it was all about fightin' through pain to do it all over again – sad songs, so repetitive. Wasn't supposed to make it outta there alive – sold my soul, after all. In the end, scraped my guts off the floor, crammed 'em back inside. Went on my merry way like some extra from the Wizard of Oz. Lost somethin' out there; spent a lotta years lookin' to fill the void. Heart. Soul. Brain. Courage.

Screw it to the sticking place – why's this matter now?

Why do I keep findin' places like this? How?

Why do I even care? Is it 'cause of some line of text I wanna have recorded in the annals of the industry? Goddamn, don't even know. The only thing I'm sure of's how this'll come off: I'm bitter because Evan Wolfe an' Shae Messana got the better of me. Still? Nope. Ain't cryin' Wolfe, alright?

It's a mystery... all linked. All of it. If I dig hard enough, if I find that misstep – BOOM – enlightenment! At the very least I can reach down, gather my guts one last time an' make a clean go of it. The fire always burns. Some days it's just hotter. Brighter. Honesty's good, right? Still got integrity. Never sell that. Never.

I feel the scars tonight. They itch, burn, remind me how fragile we truly are. We all fall down – toy soldiers – enough pressure an' we'll break. The past's not some badge of honor. It's a series of moments, couple fucked up years I never shoulda dwelt on. Someone wrote a book called 'You Can't Go Home Again'. Truest ever. You can go back but things've changed. People. Places. You. Most of all, you.

Can't undo, unlearn, unsee. Wounds heal. Time's not a prison, a thief. It's a gift. Treasure it."