Lonely nights had dragged into days, and days had dragged on into weeks, and I could feel myself closer and closer to snapping once and for all. I began to wonder why I was even here.

I began to play scenarios over and over in my head. What would happen if I died? Would anyone notice? Would anyone care? I had come to the realization that I wasn't as important to the band as I'd thought. I was replaceable.

Every time they did something, I'd stay behind, and every time they came back seeming to have had more fun than the times I was actually there. I decided to skip a show, seeing what would happen to the band.

I told them I was too sick to play, and they shrugged it off without question, which I'm not gonna lie, hurt. They had a guitar tech fill in for me, and after the show Austin and Tino came back with their arms around his shoulders, going on about how that was the best show of the tour. I held back tears as they loudly entered the room, giving me a once over then continuing to rave about the show. I couldn't take it anymore. I slipped back into my bunk unnoticed, and this time there was no stopping the tears.

I'd always held on the the fact that me being gone would have an effect on the band, but observing everything I saw I realized it was the opposite. Without me the band was better.

They didn't need someone like me bringing them down all the time. I was useless to them, all I was doing was taking up space in the bus, and it didn't help being as fat and disgusting I was.

I thought back to my life, trying to think of one person who wouldn't be able to deal with my death. I thought of Sophie my cat, even for her it would be a service for me to leave. I could barely take care of her in the first place.

Sure, my mom would be sad, but she'd get over it eventually. The fans never really liked me anyways, they'd probably be happy that I was gone from the band for good. The only reason I was still in this band was pity. I'm a shit guitar player, not to mention I'm ugly and fat. They probably just feel bad kicking me out. That's why they haven't done it yet.

I climbed out of my bunk and made my way to the bathroom. Pulling off my clothes, I looked in the mirror and scanned my eyes over my entire body. I did this at least twice a week. I could see my entire ribs sticking out, but I wouldn't let myself be fooled, I was extremely fat. Everyone had practically told me so.

When I was in school the kids called me "fat Alan". I hated that name. They'd call me that every day. At first I didn't believe them, knowing that I was in fact underweight for my age. But as I got called names more and more I began to see it. I realized I'd been wrong, and all those kids couldn't have been more right.I stopped eating. I didn't deserve it. I was disgusting.

When I joined Of Mice, most of those feelings went away, until my own friends started calling me fat too. I remember the first time, I grabbed a giant bag of chips, I still hadn't fully recovered from my high school days, and I constantly had to force myself to eat. The guys never knew.

As soon as I shoved my hand into the chip bag, I heard a laugh from Aaron and Austin. "God you're so fat Alan" Austin laughed. Phil and Tino came in the room, laughing and cracking jokes along with them. I laughed along too, playing it of as a joke.

I didn't eat for two days.

I quickly pulled my clothes back on, I couldn't bare looking myself any longer.

I decided I needed to die. I had no reason to keep breathing. I had nothing to leave behind. I knew I needed to do it soon, I just needed to figure out how.

Notes