8. Wrens Letter
Hey, Hawk,
It’s me, Wren.
Not that you’d remember me or anything; we’ve never even met. But I’ve written before, so you may know who I am. I drew some feathers again, so maybe that will remind you. I’m sure you get a shitton of mail, but I thought I’d mention it. You know, in case. Or whatever.
And now this has gotten hella awkward.
Anyway, I hope things are going better for you lately. I hated seeing the photos of you from the night you got arrested. I know the paparazzi suck, but punching people is only going to get you in more trouble, and while you do look good in orange, it would probably be difficult to write good music from prison.
And you need to write good music, man. Like, I know it’s not my place, but I’m the one who has to bust my ass at the Burger Barn so that I can buy the latest Black Kite ring tone, so if you could stop releasing soulless, hack-job songs, that would be great.
Honestly, though. Are you alright?
I mean, shit, I don’t know what I mean. Just that something feels off to me. Like you’re struggling.
You know I love you guys, but I gotta say, I feel like the Holy Trinity album was a bit of a cop out.
Okay, it was a major cop out. Come on, dude. The songs were overly processed, mega commercialized, and bland. Your lyrics on Take Flight were pure poetry, and this was...not.
Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be such a bitch about it. What do I know, right? I’m just a sixteen-year-old girl who flips burgers three nights a week. You’re the multi-platinum-selling recording artist with two Grammys under his belt.
I have no right to say anything about anything.
But, when I listen to Take Flight, it’s like I can feel what you felt when you wrote those songs. I know you felt passion and heartbreak, and hope. I mean, fuck. Inter-dimensional was my fucking anthem for a long time, reminding me that no matter how shitty things are, they will get better.
But there is no hope in Holy Trinity, and I can’t help but wonder why. Are you alright? It’s okay if you’re not, but you should know that I’d like to help. Not that I can, from a million miles away, but I guess...just know that when you’re feeling hopeless, that maybe, way over here...
I am too.
Your fan,
Wren