A Man On The Moon

Chapter One: Three people with three fires fueled by three secrets. I couldnít tell you each one if I wanted to. I only know my own secret. I lay back and rest my head against the arm the couch. Casually flipping through the channels on the TV, I find something that catches my interest. MTVís real world suspiciously reminds me of my own house. Seven people all living under one roof. There are seven kids in my family, all trying not to step on each otherís toes. Of course, like any family, there are times we donít even bother to try. Even after our move two years ago to this bigger house where we all have our own bedroom, it still feels like thereís no privacy anywhere. Thereís always someone listening in on a phone call or asking you where youíre going when you put on your jacket. Thankfully, thereís one rule in the house no one breaks. No one has ever opened anyone elseís journal. Itís out of respect. Avery marches into the room with two friends beside her. ďZac, Mom brought us to rent a movie and we need this tv to watch it.Ē I groan and look up at them, squinting as the lamp above my head blinds my eyes. I had just gotten comfortable too. ďCanít you use the tv in the basement?Ē ďTaylorís down there working on music and Mom said not to disturb him,Ē She replies, kneeling by the dvd player and pressing buttons on it. ďOh sure, but disturb Zac.Ē I roll my eyes slightly, but I understand. Music comes before Real World, I know, I know. I stand up and nod at her friends who remain nameless to me. I can never remember any of my siblingsí friendsí names. I shuffle out of the room, adjusting my blue pajama pants as I go so the drawstring hangs down in the center of my waist rather than off my right hip. Itís 2 o clock in the afternoon and Iíve done nothing all day but mope around the house looking for something to do. I wander into the kitchen and open the fridge. Orange juice or apple juice. Oh the decisions of life that haunt meÖ I pour myself a glass of apple juice and stop to listen to the sound of Taylorís guitar coming from the basement. Heís in the middle of breaking up with his girlfriend so heís been especially unbearable lately. Iím sure heís writing about the heartbreak. I make my way over to the basement stairs, slowly creek the door open, and sit on the top step with my juice, listening. Taylorís usual raspy but passionate voice floods the basement. Are you ready to lose Are you ready to win Well Iíve been losing for so long I canít begin Iím a man on the moon