He didn’t know why he was even there in the first place.
Maybe it was the fact that there weren’t double doors, or maybe it was the fact that everyone there was too busy smoking and reading poetry- he didn’t want to be there. That’s what he kept telling himself.
He held his guitar- old and scratched- in his musician hands. He recited the words in his head. There was no way in any way that he would be getting anything tonight.
Recognition was something that came and went when you weren’t looking. Recognition came and went when you least wanted it to be there. It always caught you off guard and slapped you in the face. You were always unprepared.
So he sat there, watching as a girl recited from a crumbled napkin. She talked about how she wasn’t appreciated. How her mother’s words really did hurt her. She talked about her feelings. There was no way he could ever compete with that.
So he continued to sit, wondering why it was he decided to sign up for Friday night open mic night. The winner had a fifty dollar prize, and a free latte. He hated coffee, but he really did need the money.
“Hey man,” said a particularly skinny guy as he sat down next to him. “Nice guitar.”
“Where’d you get it.”
“At the pawn shop across from here.”
“So what are you going to sing?”
“Something like what? The Beatles? You wrote it yourself?”
He could already feel the nerves kicking in. This guy with his beret and all black clothing wasn’t helping him. He looked down at his own clothes; an orange shirt that read TROPICANA and regular jeans.
“So are you interested in one night stands?’
“Okay.” The beret homo walked away.
So now I know I attract my own gender, he thought, just great.
And he continued to sit, doubting himself. He held his guitar- his beaten up guitar- in his musician hands, and pretty soon he was up on the “stage” and staring at a group of people who had nothing better to do.
“Hi,” he said. “I need fifty bucks.”
At least he got a few laughs, right? Ha ha ha.
“I miss you now. I guess like I should have missed you then. My body moves like curtains waving in and out of wind, in and out of windows”
He didn’t forget the lyrics! Excellent, now he had to beat up Wayne Brady.
“I can't untangle what I feel and what would matter most, I can't close an eye, can't close an eyelid
“Now there's no point in reaching out for me. In the dark, I'm just no good at giving relief. In the dark, it won't be easy to find relief
“And I'm not proud that nothing will seem easy about me. But I promise this, I won't go my whole life telling you I don't need. I'll tell you now, I guess like I should have told you then. That thunder moves like damn drawers slamming in my frame. Slamming in my framework”
He didn’t know why he wanted to be here. He didn’t know why he even bother to walk through these doors. He just knew that this would be a significant part of his life. This was the part when he wouldn't be the same. This was the part when he wasn't person B anymore.
“I can't untangle what I feel and what would matter most, I can't close an eye, can't close an eyelid”
He wasn’t a singer. He only mouthed the words. Yet for some reason- at this moment in time- sound was pouring out of his mouth in various melodies. No one was laughing either. In fact they just stared at him in what he hoped was Awe. It looked like Awe.
For once, he wasn’t the person he was. No, he was someone else completely. He liked this new person. He was waving hello to this person. He was helping this new person in. He was saying goodbye to his old self. He didn’t want that old self to come back. He wanted new person to stay.
“Now there's just no point in reaching out for you”
He knew new person was going to stay.
That’s just how the ending works.