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Paul stared blankly at the room before him. Not at anything in particular, his eyes having unfocused long ago. He felt like shit, to put it lightly. Just awful. Once he snapped out of his session of vacant staring, he found himself sat in the big plush chair in the corner of his bedroom. Somewhere he found himself often, and a place he lost himself in often. Lately, the weight of the world had been crushing him down into some new strange shape he’d never before seen himself in. it was horrific and gruesome, every new event that unraveled before him left him coming apart at the seams.
He stood up from his seat and sauntered sulkily over to the dark wood dresser that accompanied the rest of the furniture in his room, just left of his armchair. Atop the dresser he had left a few rolled joints, after all smoking away the stress was the only way he could keep his mind calm these days. Though the word “calm” could just as easily be replaced with that of “sane”.
He picked up a joint resting it between his fingertips as he pulled a lighter from his pocket. He flicked open the lighter cap and the flame sparked up. With the joint sat gently between his lips he lit the end of it and took a long steady drag. Big breath in, big breath out. The smoke billowed from his mouth and he sighed, knowing his mind should soon be stunted from the thoughts that continuously sparked up inside of him.
He reached for an ashtray on the dresser, bringing it back to his big plush armchair in the corner of his room. Placing it down on the side table next to him. He took another long drag before he sat himself back in the same position he had found himself in the night before. And the night before that, and- well as far back as recent memory served him.
His eyes darted around the room nervously. He knew he was safe in here, but soon enough tomorrow would come and he knew that meant just another day of struggling to make do that would leave him hoping he wouldn't have to ever again. But he knew the cycle would persist. And he had to as well.
Paul huffed and set his head in his hands. He held there until his fingers slipped through his hair, tugging on it just a bit too hard. He sighed and his hands dropped to his lap, eyes shut tight. He didn't want to open them. He just wanted to remain inside of his own head, since nobody should be able to find him in there.
“What have you got there Macca?” the familiar voice rang through Paul, bouncing off his skin and soaking into the room. Not this shit again. He kept his eyes firmly closed, praying to any god willing to hear him that he could snap out of this. He knew what it was, just another one of those waking daydreams he found himself stuck in any time he was left alone for too long. They weren't always awful but he knew in this condition he wouldn't be able to get out unscathed.
“Ay Paulie, you hear me?” the voice inquired. You could practically hear the smirk on his face.
“Fuck off John” paul scowled. It's his second nature these days to fall into the thought traps his mind often set up for him. Maybe if he squeezed his eyes shut just a little longer it would go away. It had to go away.
“Oh ho! Looks like you gave into it paul." John's voice rattled in Paul's head, “you’re stuck talking to me now, son. Why don't you take a little look over here, hmm?” Paul knew if he looked he wouldn’t see anything, there was nothing there that he even could see. Just his room, slightly hazy now from the smoke he was breathing in and out. Still, he didn't look.
“C’mon baby, no point in fighting it now. Just a peek. You know I can't bite,” he teased. Paul opened his eyes, slowly and carefully, exhaling another puff of smoke as he did. The cloud faded into the rest of the fog and revealed behind it John, across the room sat up in Paul's bed. His arms folded across his chest, legs crossed over each other down the length of the bed.
Paul knew he wasn't truly there, but his mind's eye projected a perfect clone of the man in Paul's own bed. Clear as day, so much so paul couldn't help but play along. A smile spread across John's face, he sat forward in the bed, tilting his head toward paul.
“Well, there you go,” John smirked, “how are you feeling there? Got your buzz coming on?”
“Yeah, it's coming” he mumbled, averting his gaze to his lap. Maybe if he just stayed quiet he could fade himself back into reality. That's what he hoped for at least.
“Good, good,” John nodded, “well, what now Paulie?” he hummed. Still staring down at the fiddling pair of hands in his lap, Paul’s brows furrowed.
“What? What do you mean, what now?” he jolted his head up, still refusing to look directly at the figure that was now crawling to the end of his bed. John swung his legs over the end and planted his feet on the floor. He rested his arms in his lap, and Paul could feel the daggers of nonexistent eyes piercing through him.
“Well, I mean look at you. You're bloody miserable, aren't ya? You can't even look at me when we're in the studio anymore. Or at least not when I'm looking at you," John retorted, “ye think i don't notice?”. Paul took a break from chewing on the skin at his fingertips to look up at the apparition. He locked eyes with it, as it stared him down through those wire framed glasses.
“We can all see it, Paul. you're not being yourself," John said softly. Paul took another long drag from his joint, choking out a cough on the exhale.
“I don't exactly know what myself is anymore, john. I don't. I can make a guess at it, sure. But each time I try it doesn't quite come out looking anything like what I see in the mirror. I dunno, it's just a bit confusing I guess.” Paul sighed. He had no idea why he was talking to this thing. He knew the real John was out being the cause of so many of his current issues. It's not even like the real John gave a shit about how Paul was feeling lately. He was too busy giving everything he's got to Yoko. Paul didn't want to hate either of them for that, I mean why should he? They were just in love and happy with each other is all. He couldn't be mad at that, or at least he felt he shouldn't be.
Still the resentment stirred in his chest. John was supposed to be his. It's what they promised each other for years now. Every night they had spent entangled in each other, under cold covers whispering each and every thought one had to the other until they inevitably fell asleep. That's just how it was. And all the mornings Paul would wake first. Finding John's face only inches away from his own, Paul took the time to study it. Taking in every detail, noticing every spot of stubble peeking out of his chin, and each fine line on his lips. Everytime he got to John's nose, he had the same urge bloomed within him. To plant a soft kiss on the arched bridge. But, he didn't want to wake him, so back off to sleep he would go. John was supposed to be his. And he was supposed to be John's. That's how it always had been, and how it was supposed to be. It had to be.
Paul looked back up at John, who was still shooting a half lidded gaze in his direction, then back down into his lap. He chewed again on his fingertips. All while he knew he wasn't talking to the real john, he still feared upsetting him. He knew full well that he had no control over his mind in this state, so that meant imaginary john could be just as hurtful as the real one. Or just as sweet, but he was only ever sweet anymore when he knew Paul had just about had it with him.
“Well are you even happy anymore? It doesn't seem like you are at all," John questioned him. Of course Paul was happy, right? I mean there were things he loved of course. And it's not like he was impoverished, ill, or underprivileged. He had plenty to be grateful for, and he was, incredibly so. But was he happy?
“Happy is a bit of a strong word, don't you think? Pleased may be a bit more fitting,” pauls eyes shifted up and down towards the projection of his old love, who appeared to be listening intently, “ uhm.. No, actually. I think I'd be lying a bit if I said I was pleased. I'd say I'm more content, really. You know, like satisfied, fine, okay, right?” he cocked his head towards the figure, believing he had produced the right answer this time, he was sure of it… maybe.
“I'm not so sure you are. Everything else about how you've been lately says otherwise. You've not done well convincing me, Paulie," John gave a slight smirk, egging on the already distressed paul.
“Well, I'm not sure what you want me to say then. I’ve not gone parading around saying I am happy or anything. I'm just doing what I've gotta do in order to keep things going, you know? And it's not easy, John, it's not. Trying to keep up with everything that keeps happening everywhere all at once. Hell, I can't even keep up with what's all happening just in me own head. I used to have a sense for it all, how to keep it all balanced and deal with all of the stressors and all that and still come out the other side of it okay. I had some sort of anchor that kept me from going off the rails in one direction or another. I don't think I have that anymore. And I'm not too sure how to stay alright without it,” Paul began to spiral. This is why he shouldn't have started talking to this thing. The thought of John was something Paul's mind often ran wild with, in any which direction, and he allowed it to consume him for as long as it wished.
Paul wondered what had happened to his anchor. Where that piece of his puzzle had disappeared to. He took another long drag from his joint and stopped his chatter with the apparition to think. What even was it that held him in such a good place for such a long while? Well, he knew what it was. But at this point he struggled to accept it. He didn't want to admit that what kept him from floating away was john. The love they shared between each other, the ebb and flow of it all, the balance that came from what John gave to him and what he gave back to John created this equilibrium. It kept him safe, kept him happy, made him feel capable of dealing with any sort of thing that may have come his way. It was love. Real, true, undeniable love. But where was it now? Or, better yet, where was John now?
Paul knew the answer, if only vaguely. He was somewhere. Somewhere with someone else giving the time and energy and love he once gave to Paul, to someone else now. The painful thought bore through Paul's chest. How the hell was he supposed to keep himself capable of keeping up with life if the love that once held him stable enough to get to this point in the first place was no longer growing between them. It was gone. All Paul had was the memory of it now. But, the tree of life could no longer produce its fruit. All Paul could do now was watch the fruits of his labor and of his love now rotted all around him. Turning sour as once sweet memories often do.
“So you're not happy then? You're not okay at all, are ye?” John wiped the smirk off his face, taking a more serious tone with him now. Paul looked up at him, looking at the shadow of what once was everything to him. Just an imitation of the man really, a copy of the real boy, now turned man that Paul fell in love with all those years ago. Paul studied his face, just like he used to so many nights in a row. But this time from a distance, from a new perspective. Starting up top paul noticed his hair, he remembered how it looked when they first met. Short and scruffy, with a bit of curl to it. Accompanied by a pair of sideburns laying down the sides of his face. The apparition stared back at him, its long, straight hair now running down to his shoulders. His wire framed glasses now covering those deep brown eyes Paul used to get lost in for hours on end. Even the shape of his face held itself different than it used to. Instead of staring at John it was more like he was staring at some gaunt, hollow replica. A failed clone. Like someone went out and sucked all the life out of him, and spat him back out in some altered state.
“No! Of course I'm not okay John,” Paul snapped back. With the reality of it all sinking deeper into him, the resentment he held quickly boiled down into a thick, sloppy, slew of anger.
“How do you think i'm going to be okay when everything around me is just fucked. I mean really, it is. I'm not even sure who you are anymore, john. I mean you sound like you, but the words that come out of your mouth rarely ever sound like something I'd expect of you anymore. You don't even look like yourself anymore. At least not how I see you. I never know where your mind is going, I used to, for sure. But, yeah, I'm just not so sure anymore, I guess. I don't like it. It all just fucked.” tears welled in Paul's eyes. For fuck’s sake was he crying again? Great, another night spent sobbing to himself. He wasn't supposed to act like this. But then again, he wasn't supposed to feel like this either.
“Well, ye can't blame me for that, Paulie. I'm just in your head, aren't I? I'd help you if I could but you know I can't,” the apparition of John reassured him. He was right. Paul was getting all mad at this thoughtform of John, directing what he felt for the real John right back onto himself. Paul didn't like who he was right now.
“I know that… but it's like he doesnt love me anymore. Like he doesn't even care. And if he doesn't, well I'm not quite sure what to make of myself then. I don't know how to wade through the world if he's not here with me. It's awful,” the tears began streaming down his face as he locked eyes with the apparition.
“What did I do? What did I do that made him stop loving me? I must have done something, but I've got no clue what. I always try to be the best I can for him, always careful, but not enough to be fake about it, at least not to him. Maybe I just wasn't good enough, is that it?” Paul asked, looking up at the projection. It just shrugged at him, all it knew was whatever was in Paul's own head, so it couldn't produce any answer to whatever caused this sudden change in the real john.
His head once again met his palms and rested there. He sobbed into his hands for a short while, before losing the energy to cry any more. With more questions raised and no answers gained Paul sighed to himself. He was stumped on ways to move forward from this. As the memories of the past run rampant in his mind, he watched the years go by in seconds. The apparition of John now beginning to fade, still there of course, but much less vivid than before.
As Paul gathered his thoughts, he looked around his room, taking in the lights, and colours. Even the now thicker fog collecting throughout the air. He saw beside him, propped up against the wall, his guitar. Without a second thought he picked it up and sat himself back in that big plush chair. He began strumming an old tune, one he held close to his heart and one that will forever be intertwined with the fabric of his soul. Sort of a sickly reminder now, but he’ll make of it what he can.
“Oh well, johnny johnny
Oh johnny johnny
Oh johnny johnny
Johnny johnny
Johnny johnny
Oh lord, my johnny boy
What am I gonna tell ya?
Why i cant keep all this going now?
Well, well, Johnny, my boy.
What are we gonna do with what comes after?
Johnny, oooh johnny johnny boy
Tell me what happened to us?
Oh, johnny
Well, you caught me
Where did you go, my boy?
I'll take my leave,
i'll pack my shoes
‘Cause if i stay ‘round here i'll just keep losing' and losing
Don't know where i'll go but, i hope i'll get there soon
If nobody can take me, well i don't know what im gonna do
I don't know what im gonna do, johnny
Well, johnny johnny johnny
Can I still call you Johnny boy?
Well johnny john, oooh johnny
Can I still call you?
Well, i don't know where i went wrong
So can I ask you, my boy?
Will you tell me, will you tell me?
What’ll i tell the fellas
When I run from you?
When i tell them i shouldn't be back
Be back this time
I don't know if its good
I don't know what im gonna do when i tell them all i lost ya, johnny
…
I think i've gotta leave
You went and took your leave
Oh-oh, i've gotta leave right now
I'm gonna leave
Take the next bus out of town
Try to let nobody else down
We were supposed to leave together
Get out of town
Leave together
Tried not to let you down
Get out, get out
Oh oh, oh oh
John john john john
John john john john
John john john john
Oh
Don't know if i'll survive
If i turn my head
For somebody else's kiss
I wanted to leave
Wanted to leave with you
Yeah, someday someday
Someday someday
Well i told ya
Well i told ya
You're all i want
You're all i want
You're all i want
I've gotta get out of this town
Oh-oh, ahhh
I gotta move far away,
Far away from our old town
Gotta move on over, leave
I gotta get over
Across the stream
They all know
Who we are, are
I gotta go anyways
I gotta go far away
Well, i'm gonna go far away
Well, i gotta go far away
I gotta go far away
Hey hey
Hey hey hey
Hey hey hey
Hey hey hey
Hey hey
Hey hey hey
I'm gonna leave
I've gotta leave this town
I've gotta leave”
Paul looked up at where the john-like figure once sat on the edge of his bed, and sighed. It was gone.
He placed his guitar back down against the wall. He sucked down the last of his joint, extinguishing it at the end, and walked his way over to his now empty bed.
“Fuck.”