“My Boy.” What a horrible song that is.

My girlfriend at the time scrawled those words on the mirror of our hotel room in red lipstick the night I told her I wanted to split up.

We’d spent almost the entire evening screaming and crying at each other. She stormed out eventually and I fell asleep. When I woke up, those words were on the mirror and she was on the floor with a needle sticking out of her arm.

I never told anyone about it, not even Daniel. I can’t even think about it now without feeling that absolute panic and fear and self-pity. Stupid girl. Didn’t she realize that I wasn’t worth it? What did she know? I’m not worth loving; I’m just a selfish bastard.

She’s fine now I hear, but she scared the hell out of me that night, I don’t think I’m really over it. That’s when I wrote this horrible song. It took me four goddamn takes, and I could see the concern on Daniel’s face as I struggled, but I got through it and it finally felt wonderful to let it go.