Page 1 of Jet

Introduction

Fourteen years ago...

Jet

It was a coldand dreary night in March when I left my dysfunctional family for the very last time.

My overstuffed backpack weighed me down and left a red welt on my scrawny shoulder. But the pain was so worth it, since I had my old beat-up guitar clutched tightly to my chest. I might have been only thirteen, but I was adamant about anyone taking my music away from me.

Ever again!

During the day, I busked on the streets of New York for petty cash. At night, I'd hide in the alleyways just waiting for the restaurants to throw out their nightly trash. Desperate to fill the ache in my empty belly. Years later, when I met LucasPipesKnight andThe Sinful Sevenwas conceived, I knew walking away a lifetime ago was the best decision I'd ever made. No matter how difficult my life had become, I didn't let anyone take away the only thing I ever loved. Music!

Everyone has the potential to be the best they can be. But daydreams are empty promises that fall by the wayside when words are distorted and truths turn into lies. I learned this at a very early age, which toughened my skin but made me independent and gave me the strength to make it on my own. It wasn’t easy, and I wanted to give up.

Then I remembered a quote by Vince Lombardi.“Winners never quit, and quitters never win.”It forced me to move on even when I wanted to quit.

Envy

“Envycomes from people’s ignorance of, or lack of belief in, their own gifts.”

Jean Vanier

JET

Walkinginto my apartmentafter several months on theDistractiontour feels irrelevant. Something that should be comforting feels strange. It’s as if my favorite pair of jeans are too tight and suffocating. I’m sure that might sound crazy to some, but it’s the only way I can describe it. Like I don’t belong here anymore.

After tossing my bags on the floor, I walk through every room and throw open the windows. The clean, crisp air assaults my senses, letting me breathe easier. Now it doesn’t feel as stifling as it did when I first arrived.

With my hands tucked inside my jeans pockets, I pace around the apartment and take it all in. The colorless walls probably look bare to most—sure, they’re drab and in desperate need of a pop of color. For me, they reflect the person I am deep down inside.

Detached, uncaring, and dead.

It’s pathetic that this is the only place in this vast universe that I get to be myself. Not the celebrated rockstar everyone thinks they know, or the bassist forThe Sinful Seven,or Lucas’s best friend for that matter. Just Me, and it scares me shitless because I’m not sure about the man who lives inside of this head anymore.

Too many times to count, I get lost inside of myself and go to an evil place. It’s lonely and somewhere I only visit on occasion, but it burrows beneath my skin, festers there, no matter how many years go by. Doesn’t matter how long, this hell I make for myself is always waiting to tear me apart. Forcing me to question everything I am or ever thought I could be.

I know it’s late, I’m exhausted, and after spending countless nights sleeping on the bus or sharing a stuffy hotel room with Trevor, tonight I do it my way. The only way I truly know how to feel comfortable and safe. Yeah, I might be a grown-ass man, but until you’ve walked in my shoes, don’t judge.

Tossing my sleeping bag and pillows on the floor, I hunker down, clothes and all. This, right here, is where I’ll spend the next few days. Once I get my bearings and catch my breath, I’ll unpack, shower, rinse and repeat. For me, nothing is in black and white. There’s a gray area that lives deep inside of my bones that pulls me under and takes me to a faraway place that only exists in my mind. It’s something I’ve had to learn to live with for a lifetime and I don’t foresee it going away soon. I’ve learned to accept it.

I have no other choice.

Staring up at the ceiling, I try to tick off all of the good things that have transpired over the last few months. Beginning with the audition that started it all, and ending when I walked into this empty tomb. Closing my eyes, I focus on the texture of the hardwood floor beneath me, instead of a soft mattress that a million others before me have slept on. Then, I concentrate on the silence around me, calming me in ways that I haven’t experienced in months. Once my breathing slows, I count until I reach one hundred. Only to start over. Again and again.

I allow my thoughts to wander to Lucas and Abby. Lucas is my best friend and the front-man forThe Sinful Sevenand Abby’s our business manager. When they first met, he was a sex addict and she was his favorite barista at Java Joe’s. To make a long story short, Lucas is only addicted to Abby now.

I truly envy them. They both knew what they wanted, and they went after it. In fact, right about now, they’re thousands of miles away on some tropical island soaking up the sun. And each other. I’m happy for them both, it’s well deserved after everything they’ve been through. But I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t hurt just knowing that I’ll never have that unconditional love with a woman. It wouldn’t be fair to give myself to someone when I’m broken. Damaged goods. Well, some might beg to differ, like Lucas, but he’s the only one who knows the deepest, darkest parts of my soul. Nothing he could say or do would ever change my mind for that matter.

End of.

Time to move on.

After being on the road surrounded by a ton of people, I’m going to bask in solitude, kick back, and just breathe. Don’t get me wrong, the tour’s everything I ever dreamed it would be and then some, but I’m so used to being alone that it was all so overwhelming. And now I have Quinn who’s like a pit bull with a bone about getting me to do her damn interviews. She’s our PR agent and a pain in my ass. I don’t know how many times I’ve refused her requests for an interview but will continue doing so. My fans don’t give a damn about my childhood and where I come from, as long as I show up and give them the best performance I can.

And believe me, I do.

Every damn night!

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