Tags: angus young

Breakfast Club // Gotcha.

Damn It

My guitar broke ;~; The fifth and sixth string snapped. The sixth hit my thigh, and now there’s this nasty little bruise. I don’t know how I did it either…hmmm…perhaps I bent it too hard? That’s my best guess.

Christ…

It’s broken! That’s one of the worst bits that could happen to a musician…*sigh*

Gah, this sucks.

Other than that, it’s been alright lately, tiring somewhat. Bon’s been havin’ nightmares again though, and I don’t know how to get rid of them. But, I suppose, it’ll just pass. They come randomly, almost in spurts, and then kinda just fade.

I…need a nap. <3

[[Going to the Cape this weekend; taking Lolly (Bon Scott/Slash) with me. So we'll be gone for a few days!]]
Breakfast Club // Gotcha.

He's Here! :D

He’s here.

 

He’s here.

 

I can’t fucking believe it but…he’s here.

 

Bon’s actually here. :D Not that…it’s an entirely a good thing, that meaning he’s sick and all, buuuuut…

 

He’s here! <3

Breakfast Club // Gotcha.

Where The Hell Are My Pants...?

For the love of God, where the fuck are they? And I don’t mean just one pair of pants, oh no. I mean all of them.

I am not skilled enough to lose ten pairs of pants people! >.< That takes a major amount of amount of ‘effing amazing to pull that off…

Shit. Anyone wanna lend me a pair? Although, I can’t guarantee you’ll get them back unless you want them…two feet shorter than when you first gave them to me <_< If not, then you wanna help me find them? I mean, they can’t get up and walk away unless there’re actual legs in them.

Either that or I’m gonna have to run around in me knickers and that’s fucking cold.

Breakfast Club // Gotcha.

Christ...

Oh God, I’m so sorry, to both of you. Dear Christ, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I swear I didn’t. He just---I can’t---I don’t know how to make him stop. God, it’s like back home all over again. I didn’t mean for it to happen to Bon, and I didn’t mean for it to happen to you…

 

Izzy? Axl? God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Am I repeating mysely? Shit, I am. 


Please, don’t think that’s who I am. That’s not me, it never has been. I never wanted to be him and I don’t ever want to be.

 

He’s fucked me up so bad.

 

But if I had to relive it over again, I’d still choose the wrench…

 

Fuck him. 

<333

Breakfast Club // Gotcha.

Day Five Is It Now?: To Hear Your Voice...

 

I talked to Malcolm today; talked to them all, in fact.

They finally let me call them up, call home. And God, I think I could’ve raped the phone just from hearing Malcolm say hello. I couldn’t speak for a moment, was absolutely terrified to, and then I just started to cry. I cried. I’m here for five days and I’m acting as if I’ve been gone for five years.

Malcolm sounded happy enough to hear from me, pleased. I think I might’ve scared him though, what with sobbing in his ear and all.

And I got to talk to Phil, bless his heart, he actually sounded like he missed me. I figured, if anyone, he’d be the least so to care since he’s the easiest to annoy; so I did often. I don’t mean to…ok, well I do, but it’s hard not to. Phil makes the funniest faces when he gets pissed.

I got to talk to Cliff too. What was nice about him was the fact he didn’t talk to me all careful, and he didn’t once mention RainyDay in our conversation. He talked to me like, well, like to buddies on the phone catching up with each other. But then again, Cliff isn’t the brightest person on the face of this planet, so for all I know he probably forgot I was even here.

He asked me if I’d met any chicks, which only fueled the idea he had none at all where I truly was. But I laughed, told them they were pretty and carried on…

And then I talked to Bon…

Well, at first we didn’t talk. I think we really just listened to each other breathe for about five minutes before we started to try and speak. I had no idea what to say. Usually? I can talk to him for hours on and suddenly…I’m completely blank. Now that’s a first.

I can’t remember who started, but one of us did and it was a jumble from there. Stuff flying from every direction on how the other was doing, what were they up to, anything new, and just---all this crazy shit and I felt like I had run a marathon in the end. And I was laughing! I think the doctor might’ve thought I was crazy. I mean, ten minutes ago I was sobbing, and now? I’m laughing my ass off.

And then he asked me something, and I know he meant it as a joke but I---I panicked.

Find someone to replace me yet?

It was like the erratic pulse of a heart: Izzy, Izzy, Izzy, oh fuck Izzy, what do I say? I think I made a mistake, what do I do? Did I make a mistake? I couldn't have. I wanted it, didn’t I? Oh fuck…

How do you tell someone…that you…that you went behind their back? In the fucking loony bin no less!? And I wanted to tell him, just spill it and get it over with to see what happens…and the doctor takes the phone. *scowls*

So, now I’m stuck trying to figure out what to do. And I’ve never been one for solving puzzles…*sigh*   

Breakfast Club // Gotcha.

Day Two. And So On And So Forth.

I’m online, just surfing when I get this little message bleeping up the screen.  It’s my messages and I’ve got one from a guy by the name of Izzy Stradlin. We got to talking; about how we were feeling, some depth about family, why we were here, and how long we’ve been here. He’s been here a day longer than I, suffering from a----social phobia, was it? He hasn’t dared to set a foot out of his room.

No less than five minutes later? Guess what I find out? He’s one door down from me. I could open the door and peek out and look directly across to his. But I don’t and we just continued talking until all of a sudden it seemed like he just stopped talking and---rap, rap, rap, someone’s knocking on my door. I open it up…and there he is. He’s a lot taller than me, but then again, most people are anyway. *scowls*

I invited him in and we talked for a while; I played the guitar. We played a guessing game where he had to guess what I was playing. I’m gonna teach him the basics later, I told him I would. Finally, it felt like my stomach was eating me and we decided to head out and grab something to eat---and I’m proud of him. He’s not too good around people, and it took him a while to relax around me, but he got comfortable eventually, you know? So it was nice.

Also, learned I’ve got a new roomie. Max Green, nice to meet you.

So, we couldn’t find the cafeteria <.< We ended up trekking to the gardens where we basically got caught in a down pour, soaking to the bone. He pushed me into the rain, though, first. I tugged him in after and we basically just messed around from there. Could I say we flirted? It’s most possible, I guess. I held his hand, so that has to count for something right? But then again, it might just be the fact we all need someone to lean on.

And then---he sneezes, so we upped it and worked our way inside. It was then I remembered I had an appointment to get to, and I was late. Damn. And then fucking William decides to take the time and intervene on just how stupid I can be and I-I…I told him to shut up and I think I insulted Izzy. Scared him too maybe…he left after that.

Don’t you just hate when it all starts out good, comfortable, hopeful and then it gets ruined? Guh.

 

Breakfast Club // Gotcha.

Day One.

I can't say I like it here all that much, but then again, when you've only been here a day...well, things don't tend to look good as an outcome anyway. I guess it might have something to do I’m stuck in here alone, you know? Room 306 of the South Wing.

Yup. That’s me. Angus Young. 


I mean, well, I can’t say I don’t like the people here, I just don’t like being here in general. But then again, I haven’t actually met anyone at all. And being alone in this room isn’t helping.

They say I’m in here to get better, that this “illness” I have isn’t allowed to run my life, only I am. Dissociative Identity Disorder. I couldn't tell you what that means, much less what it is. That’s just what’s written beneath my file; my application and then this little picture at the top that looks like a mug shot. I almost didn’t recognize myself. They say I called myself Nathaniel.

The only names I recognize are Malcolm and William. Patrick? David? Jason? Nathaniel? And Charlotte's a girl's name. D: I don’t know anyone by those names...

Come talk to me? emerald5beauty