I'm just an avarage boy

I’m just an average boy

After a long week in the recording studio, I finally have some time to rest. I need rest so bad.
I sit by myself on the sofa in the living room, my knees pulled up. From the guitar sounds in Tom’s room, I gather my brother plays all the new songs again. Georg’s honoured to be the last one to take a bath, while Gustav had left the house a few hours ago. Because he had left before I woke up, I don’t know what he’s doing outside at all.
I’m tapping uninspired against my writing pad with the back of a pen which I hold between my fore- and middle finger. Just when I think I’ve got an idea, I decide it doesn’t match with the other songs and take the pen off the paper. It will never work this way.

In the corner of my eye I see an opened magazine.   

That day Georg and I had decided to go shopping. Because we didn’t want to get noticed, we walked over the streets with huge sunglasses. Next to us, our bodyguard. He had to; we are never safe.

I was looking at some T-shirts and slid a row of way too expensive clothes aside. When I looked up, I looked right into the lens of a camera. With a forced smile I posed for the press photographer, who probably had earned a lot of money because of me, now.

I take the magazine from the table and shake my head. What makes it so special that I go shopping… Like I’m not a human being.

I lay down the magazine, stare out of the window. I can see some rows of houses, as regards looks not different to ours. Some students live there.

One day I was on stage and sang the only song in which I’d laid all of my feelings. Though I completely tried to concentrate on the show, a boy in the crowd attracted my attention. There was nothing special about him, but that was the thing that made him this particular. I estimated he must be as old as I was.
When I lay down in my bed that night, I thought about him again. Just because, he was a 17-year old boy how he has to be.

I looked at the clock beside me and wondered what I’d be doing when I had a normal life. When I wasn’t asleep, I’d probably be stressed about a project that had to be finished next day. Or about an assignment I hadn’t done.
I sighed and for the first time in my life I longed for my homework.

I look at the empty paper on my lap. I don’t want it to be too personal. I don’t want all these strange girls who think they understand me, who want to help me while they are my biggest problem.

A meet and greet, and a not very pretty girl came towards me. I smiled, hugged her, like I did to all the other unknown fans. All these people I had nothing to do with, and who wanted so many things to me.
“In reality you are even so much prettier…” she said with an unconfident voice. I smiled, though I secretly thought I’d never say something like that about her. I never expressed these things, but there were so many fans I didn’t want to have.
“My parents are divorced, too” she started carefully; a plain to try to have a serious conversation. Like I cared about her I hugged her again and made this undoubtedly the best day of her life. And that though I was just a boy, who she probably hadn’t took notice of  when I wasn’t famous.
Just when I thought I got rid of her, she took a picture out of her bag. “My altar!” she said proudly. I took the photo and looked at the beautifully covered table with about 100 candles. Above her so-called altar hung a huge picture of my face. “Cool…” I said, while hoping it sounded admiring in any way.

I hated it to be pasted on walls in giant format. I wasn’t anything more than a normal boy from Magdeburg, who just liked to sing. I still felt that way. Not like a guy to look up to, or even to worship.

I couldn’t do it to the fans to write about them. To wipe all of their hope away with just one song, to ruin their lives. I know I’m a leader to some, often the most important thing they know. But I can’t imagine that…

Smiling we four posed on the red carpet. I doubted if I’d ever get used to all the photographers, if I’d ever find a pose I liked. After some minutes I saw Tom still had a grin on his face, but that Georg and Gustav took a lot of pains to smile.
In the huge, chic hall, it was filled with important people. People I looked up to. And we were between them. All these matures, though I still felt like a kid. But I still was a kid. They just didn’t see. I was worth way too much to be treated as a non-adult.  
It wasn’t very pleasant that night and I decided to talk to someone.
Just a few minutes later I was conversing with a mature woman, who treated me like an equal. It felt good to talk to someone, who seemed almost as smart as my mum was.
Still I looked around absent-minded. I smiled at the thought of my mother who should, even now, have sent me to bed for a long time. She should have tucked me in nice and warm and kissed me goodnight. I always felt so young, then, I was ashamed a bit.
But I missed her, now.

I hear someone open up the door of our studio house. “I’m back!” yells Gustav at his own, subdued way. “A suitcase?” I ask wondering when he walks in the room with a huge trunk. He nods. “For when we go to America.” I turn my head away.

We announced for the first time our album would also be released in the United States. We had an considerable amount of fans there and of course the reactions were positive. There, however.

The following weeks a lot of letters came from fans who ‘didn’t want to lose us.’ Like the knew us! I was so mad…
When we would go to America, we finally had the chance to make the last step before we were famous everywhere in the world. It had always been my dream. A dream which seemed to fade away more every minute. Maybe it wasn’t as great as it seemed…

The guitar playing stops and Tom walks in with his though run. “Is it successful, yet?” he asks, while he points at my notepad and plumps down next to me grinning. I shake my head. “Shall I help you?” I shrug my shoulders, because I’m not impressed by his writing skills. I stay silent for a while.

“I miss mum…” I whisper then, so softly that I secretly hope Tom won’t hear it. He silences, stares at the ground. I wonder if he’ll answer.
Then he lays, carefull and insecure, his hand on my knee. Something I’m not used to. “I miss her too, Bill, me too.” I look at him with a watery smile. I’m glad he is my brother.

A few months later we’re on the airport. Outside my dad, all parents are present. With pain in my heart I smile: I know the four of us are all who we really are for a while. Four boys, who are treated too maturely.
I see Gustav hugging his sister and how Georg’s mum put right the jacket of her son. “Bye, mum” I whisper, and swallow when I see the tears in her eyes. It hurts her to leave us alone so often. To not be able to protect us in any way. I know it so well…

Tom hugs her in his own distant way, though I know he’ll also miss her. “Take care of youself!” she calls kind of concerned. I smile, wave and don’t look back. I wish I could take care of myself. I wish I had my life in my own hands…
After some hours we step out of the airplane. ‘Welcome to New York!’ say the screaming letters on the signs. Insecurely I walk through the mass, I am as small as I feel like.

My first steps in my new life. A bigger life, in which I am smaller than before. Sometimes I wished it was all over. But the next second I embrace smiling a fan. In my life, nothing is what it seems.