Post by december memory jackson on Mar 26, 2009 18:04:22 GMT -5
they give him prescriptions
they shine bright lights on him
It was an other one of those days. He could tell when he woke up that he was going to be in one of what his mother called his 'off moods'. Taking a quick glance around the bus he didn't see any of his band mates. It was unusual for him to be the last one up but he wasn't in a mood to think about that. Instead he just got up and got ready in that sorta rushed yet not really way. It wasn't like he was trying to get out as quick as he could he just wasn't taking much time or putting much effort into doing it. His thick black hair was left in that natural mess he woke up with, although that didn't really make much of a difference to his appearance. The clothes he put on were the first ones that came to hand and that thin white stripe that always graced his cheeks for no other reason than he liked it was done quickly by freehand instead of his usual careful masking and painting technique.
There was a show tonight. December doubted he would be in a better mood by then but it wouldn't be the first time he had played like this. Technically he would play just as well as he always did but it would be lacking those little things that made it special. There would be no cheeky drum rolls during Josh's little rambles and no improvised little sections when he felt like throwing them in. No he would do everything he had to but it would be as though he was on auto pilot. He would think about that later. Now he was just thinking about getting to his dressing room. For some reason being in a bus was not helping where as an actual room just seemed better. By now he was just entering the backstage area and was barely acknowledging the people he passed. December had always been a shy boy. When you met him he was barely able to string a sentence together but once you got to know him he was one of the funniest guys you would ever meet.
A lot of people just thought of him as being a bit socially awkward. He wouldn't correct them. Only those really close to him knew why he was so awkward. At the age of five he had been diagnosed with aspergers syndrome. He didn't tell most people, not because he was ashamed but over the years he had noticed that some people would treat him differently if they knew. It was like they thought he would shatter with one wrong look. With a heavy sigh he pushed open the door to Divide Me's dressing room and went inside. On a small table next to a couch lay his sketchpad and pencils. Picking them up as he dropped his body onto the worn leather of the couch he opened the pad to the first blank page and picked up a fine black pencil. The lead just touched the paper and no more. His attention wasn't on drawing anymore, in fact he wasn't paying attention to anything. No right now December Jackson was just staring into space as he often did on days like this.
