Losing My Mind

“I’m going to LA, to LA!” She kept stewing in her head sat in the window seat, beginning an 11-hour flight from London. What were her chances of being picked out of 11,000 candidates and making it to the final 12?

She saw an advertisement on Facebook from an American TV show she watches, inviting rock stars to apply for a singing competition called “Battle of the Rock Star.” Summerton Records offers the winner a record contract and the opportunity to make an album. Her peers, including her fiancée, think she’s nuts.

Ryleigh has developed a strong emotional connection to music over the years, falling in love with the frantic riff of a guitar, the drums’ bashing, and the hoarse voices roaring down the microphone. Her teenage bedroom was crammed with posters of bands wearing eyeliner, heavy tattoos, and colourful hair.

She wouldn’t leave the house without her classic nano iPod, which has over 50,000 songs on it. Unfortunately, the battery had worn out and required to be recharged every few hours, and the headphones kept getting replaced three times a year. But, regardless of what was going on with the world, she liked to be in her thoughts with her favourite music.

Although, her family found it difficult to understand, and they didn’t think music was the best way to get by in life. To be singing in empty bars and clubs every night, attempting to make ends meet. But they made do with an acoustic guitar and singing lessons, which turned into a hobby.

All her hard work went into studying, followed by music. After that, she settled into Graphic Design and achieved a degree, and after landed a job quickly in that field. While at university, she met Russell on her course, and it blossomed into a romantic relationship. At first, he didn’t look the type of guy she would have gone for. He had short hair, withdrawn from romance, quite the opposite. However, he had the energy to strive well in whatever he wanted to do and was ambitious, which she admired.

They worked hard to get where they were in their careers. It took them six years to buy a house, and he finally popped the question to her. Ryleigh started to wonder whether she was making the right decisions, asking herself, “If there’s anything else better out there?”.

She turned twenty-eight last month and, aware that thirty is approaching faster than she expected. She wonders if something is missing because everyone is married and having children.

Her parents and in-laws’ are showing continuing pressure to have a grandchild soon burns in the back of her mind. She is uncertain if Russell will take the next step, and she wants to know what this relationship means to him. He didn’t believe in rushing anything and wanted them to be financially stable, so they could raise their future children, which seemed logical.

When her job took over her life, her music hobby faded, and she spent less time returning to her guitar to write songs and sing covers. Nonetheless, it didn’t stop her from attending concerts by her favourite bands when they were on tour and dragging Russell along, which he didn’t mind.

When she saw the advertisement, she already drowned two glasses of wine in her bloodstream, and the wild side of her thought said she should do it. So Ryleigh rummaged through her computer’s previous recordings and selected one called “Not going back.” She made this recording about her ex-boyfriend when she was seventeen years old. She ended their relationship after discovering he had cheated on her.

She remembered recording this on the day she ended it with him. Of course, people keep diaries or talk to friends, but writing and recording is the best way for her to get it out of her system.

She forgot about applying until she received a call from the show a few days later, telling her she needed to catch a flight out in two months. It was exciting to break the news to Russell, but it went down like a lead balloon. He couldn’t understand why she wanted to do this, but she told him it would change everything. Russell’s trust in her made her question whether she should go.

Ryleigh was self-conscious about her appearance; she had an emo phase in her teens, but it faded enough for her to look employable. She wore her blonde wavy hair in a side fringe and a top winged eyeliner with a simple dress sense, nothing fashionable. She couldn’t get any piercings or tattoos because her parents wouldn’t approve, and she had to send a picture for the show, so they must have seen something in her.

She informed her employer of the situation and told them that she would be out for twelve weeks, fearing they wouldn’t keep her. There is no point paying someone when they are not working and would eventually have to quit. She would have nothing to go back to if she didn’t do well. But, something in her mind kept telling her to push on, “You can come back to something - it’s not a big deal”.

Luckily, they gave her unpaid leave for twelve weeks as a “career break” arrangement. When her colleagues found out, they rooted for her better than Russell and her family took it. Ryleigh promised she’d keep in touch.

When she stepped off the plane, the weather was similar to the UK. She didn’t know how much clothing she should bring or for which season, so she brought one of each. Maybe they’ll give the show a makeover and a new wardrobe. As she got her luggage and guitar off the carrier, she noticed a man in a suit carrying a sign with her name on it. It felt just like the movies.

‘Ryleigh Roberts?’

‘Yes, that’s me.’ She approaches the man.

‘Dereck, please to meet you. Follow me. I’ll be driving you to the studio.’ He loaded her belongings into a black Toyota. She hoped it would be yellow, like the films set in Los Angeles that she had seen.

As he rode from the international airport to the Summerton Records Studio, she stared out the window, convinced she was dreaming because this can’t be real. The palm trees swaying in the middle of the road, passing the bungalows, each with its distinct appearance, and some commercial shops she recognizes from her own home.

She was a little anxious, and she texted Russell to let him know she had landed safely. Dereck struck up a friendly conversation with her, piqued by life in the UK. While Ryleigh was concerned that her appearance was unsuitable to meet anyone. Her skintight black running leggings, black plimsolls, white floating empire top, and black hoodie didn’t make her look like a Rock Star.

Dereck parked the car, and Ryleigh got out to view the sign with its flashy illuminated logo. She can’t believe she’s walking into a studio full of bands she’s listened to for years, recording and walking in their footsteps.

He had the door open for her to walk in, and she noticed the clean and new décor, which includes the gold discs of the bands proudly displayed on the wall, as well as the magazine covers. Next, a smart-dressed woman with gingered hair approached.

‘Hi, you must be Ryleigh Roberts. Welcome to Summerton Records Studio, and welcome to LA.’