Things began to go wrong when I was seventeen. My bands twenty-year-old lead guitarist earned seven years in jail for a drug-fuelled spree of violence. The other band members were quick to let go of their musical dreams but I never did. They did the mature thing after writing off the band as a teenage fantasy they got real jobs and made some money. They called it growing up. I called it giving up.
Our love was covered in fur yet I was the only one who wanted to pet it.