Everything Is Going To Be Okay

I made a mixtape about being an average teenager and I wrote a short story based of the lyrics from the songs.

Track List:
Coming Clean by Green Day
Waste by Foster the People
The Motivation Proclamation by Good Charlotte
When Keeping It Real Goes Wrong by The Wonder Years
Spark Fires by the Story So Far
You Don't Understand Me by The Raconteurs
The Last Lie I Told by Saves The Day
Fear Of Sleep by The Strokes


2. Monday, November 12


   I woke up from the nightmares again and this time I couldn’t get myself out of bed. I lay there, head pounding, staring at the posters on my walls; Mark Hoppus and Soupy Campbell staring back at me. There really was no reason for me to get up so why should I bother. I’m always sick, or at least I think I am and my parents usually don’t care enough to force me to school or anything.

   This morning wasn’t any different and since I didn’t want to fall back asleep I’ve been just laying here for the past three hours or so. Most of these days I spend inside my head anyway, sometimes I’ll play a little bit of Zelda or try reading a book but the laziness always gets to me.

   God, I wish this Tylenol would kick in cause I’m so sick of feeling this way. It’s always the same but I’m hoping this writing will start to help. It might give me the motivation I need to get myself out of this bed. If it doesn’t, the need to change the vinyl on my Dad’s record player will eventually.

   Right now I’m listening to First Impressions Of Earth by the Strokes. My ex-girlfriend bought it for me for Christmas last year. It was one of her favorite bands, and even though it’s not exactly the kind of music I listen to, I love the lyrics.

   Okay, she wasn’t actually ever my girlfriend to begin with but I don’t know what else to call her. We were best friends through most of high school and we would make out occasionally when her parents weren’t home or while we were watching a movie in my basement. Sometimes it would even go a little farther than making out but we never had sex or anything.  I mean, I’m pretty sure she liked me but it was never official because she was always going out with older boys who she met at shows.

   Veronica was her name, the girl I was trying to call in my dreams. She was really cool, and I never quite understood why she wanted to be my friend but it doesn’t really matter now. She went to shows practically every weekend, always wearing a tank top with some underground band’s logo on it, showing off her perky boobs without making her look like the other slutty girls there. That and a combination of her combat boots and her dark blue hair, made her look about 20. Hence, all of the older guys she dated.

   Once in a while she would take me to some of the house shows, but I always felt like her kid brother, tagging along. I’d find myself standing along the back wall trying to listen to some rich kid’s overly distorted guitar while some dude with dreads told me about how smart he was on acid. Occasionally, a cute girl with one side of her head shaved or something would come up and talk with me. But they all just wanted to hook up so they could tell their friends about the boy in a plaid shirt they gave a blow job to over the weekend.

   It wasn’t really my scene, but I liked spending time with Veronica. I especially liked listening to her talk. She would stop by really late at night sometimes; coming from her boyfriend’s house, smelling like weed and cigarettes. She would stay over, trying to stay away from home as long as she possibly could. There was a lot about her that I didn’t know but I did know that she thought a lot and the things she said were some of the wisest things I’ve ever heard.

   We would spend those late nights in my bed, not doing anything like that, just talking. We would hold each other’s hands and pretend to see what each other saw. When I would sit there depressed and quite she would ask me, “How long are you gonna relive the things that are gone?”

   She’d tell me how much potential I had and that if I wanted to waste my days in bed I could but if I wanted to wake up and change that I could do that too. I guess it’s kinda funny how freedom can make us feel contained. Make us feel like we have nowhere to go when we actually have all the possibilities in the world. I can be pretty selfish and pessimistic at times but Veronica’s words captivated me and began to build a few good thoughts inside my head.

   Now she’s gone. She graduated early and moved into an apartment with her boyfriend in the city. She’ll still text or call me from time to time late at night when she’s feeling thoughtful and wants someone to listen to her. But it’s not the same and it never will be.

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