It's a
crazy world I live in.
A whirlwind of fans, fame, fortune...
You'd think I'd be happy. Be proud of who I've become, of the name I've
made for myself.
But I'm not.
Who is JC Chasez, anyway? And
who came up with "JC" in the first
place?It's like saying my name is "Joshua Chasez Chasez".
What sense does that make?
"A catchy nickname," they'd said. "Short and sweet," they'd said. Stupid
if you ask me.
I'm not JC Chasez, musician extrodinaire. I'm not the hearthrob everyone makes me out to me. And
just how did I get stuck with Bobbee Thomas as my "girlfriend"? Justin
gets Brintey, and I get Bobbee? How
does that work?
"It's good for business," they'd said. "She's an employee of WEG too, with an up and coming talk show," they'd said, "and
we take care of our employees." Bobbee
is a bitch.
She calls me "Josh". Like she has the right. Only
certain people can call me Josh. People
who care, people who know the real me. And
Bobbee sure as hell doesn't. After
all, I doubt she'd still be in this "relationship" if she knew the
truth.
I'm in love with Justin.
That's right. I'm in love with Justin Timberlake, my band mate, by brother, my
best friend. I've been in love with
him since the moment I saw him, blonde little boy with skinny arms and long legs.
Justin knows the real me. He knows
me inside and out. Knows what makes me tick.
But he doesn't know I'm in love with him.
He doesn't know that I ache to have his arms around me, that I cringe every time
I see him kiss Britney. He doesn't
know that I dream of him at night, and he doesn't know that the only thing that
gets me through the day is having him by my side.
But I can't have him.
I'm not happy.
I'll never be happy.
Maybe I should just end it.
I have the knife in my hand. I
study the sharp edge, wondering how much pressure I would need to apply to draw
blood.
It's not worth it to me anymore. Not
worth the sleepless nights, the stress, the constant pressure of being perfect,
of keeping up this false image of what my life is like.
Then I think of Justin. His bright
blue eyes, the boyish grin that's constantly playing on his lips, the adorable
pout that makes me shiver each time I see it.
No. Ending my life is not what I should do.
Maybe I should just tell him.
Someone knocks at the door and walks in. Justin's knock. He
never waits for it to be answered, just knocks as a warning to let you know he's
coming.
I hide the knife. Don't feel like
explaining that one to him right now.
"Josh, are you here?"
Something's wrong. I know it
immediately. I hear it in his voice.
I stand up, go to him. "What's wrong, Justin?"
He doesn't answer. Just does the
unthinkable. Presses his lips to
mine. I'm dizzy. I can't think. I
feel like I'm floating.
Is this really happening?
He pulls away, just slightly. I can still feel his breath on mine.
"I knew it."
"Huh?" What does he mean
by that?
"I knew it. I just had to make
sure. But now I know."
"What are you talking about?"
"I love you, Josh. I'm in love
with you."
And he kisses me again. And everything is right in the world.
So this is who I am. I am Josh
Chasez, and I love Justin Timberlake. And
right now, that's all that matters.