Hey all... Here's a depressing little peice that I wrote at 4AM while trying to study for Organic Chemistry and drinking NyQuil so I wouldn't hack up a lung. And of course, this came to me right after I looked up at my ceiling, drooled over Nick wearing leather pants, then said to myself... Blue, you know they're the whores of the music industry. And poof! Blue wrote a fic instead of studying for chemistry.
Disclaimers. I still don't own the Backstreet Boys. God, I really wish I did. Umm... for those of you who don't like thinking about AJ being an alcoholic, then don't read this. I'm not in the mood to receive flames. Then again, I could turn your flames in to a fic... *maniachal laughter*

         Look at them. The other four eat this shit up. They love being the idols of millions. Me? I don't hate it. I just don't like being one of the whores of the music industry. You heard me. Backstreet, Nsync, Britney, Christina, O-Town... we're all whores. We get paid money to stand up in front of crowds degrading ourselves. What I wouldn't give to actually give a concert to an audience that didn't comprise mostly of pre-pubescent girls screaming at me. They don't even understand what we're all about.
         This lifestyle has to be taking its toll on the others. I know that Brian, Kevin, and Howie want to be home with their families now. I'd love to be home now too. Hell, if it weren't for me, we would be home right now.
Nick is the only one who wouldn't want to go home. He hates it there. If he didn't have all those siblings, I'm sure he'd never go see his mother again. I really feel sorry for the kid.... then again, he never really knew what it was like to be a normal person. Maybe he is the lucky one of us. Then again, what will he do when this all ends? We're all getting older... hell... Nick's the only one of us who is semi-close to the age of our fans. Maybe that's why they like him more than the rest of us. And that's probably why he's still around. It's apparent that his voice dropped again... he's really straining to hit those high notes. I feel so bad for the poor kid.
         So what must I do to escape this meaningless existence? I tried alcohol. That didn't work. But let me be the first to tell you that sobriety is a bitch. Frick keeps telling me that I'm doing the right thing by staying sober, and that he, along with the rest of the guys are praying to God to help me get through this trial. I'm just thankful that Frack is finally legal and is stupid enough to tell the guys that he's buying alcohol for himself. But because of recent events, they're watching him too. Now I'm reduced to drinking NyQuil. I'll have to thank the federal government some day for approving a cold remedy with the first ingredient being alcohol.
        So now, as we leave this venue and head off to another one, I hear them all talking about what they were hit with during the concert. I'll have to admit, when Nick was hit with that superball in the head the other day was kind of funny, but not really. If we were just five normal guys on the streets and someone threw a superball at us, I think that he would have gotten in to a fight if it was a man that had thrown it, and just laughed and given it back if a kid had lost it.
        We'll never be five normal guys again. No matter what happens, where we go, or what we do after this craziness is over, we will always be branded with a BSB. Perhaps I'll just get it tattooed on my forehead and make it easier for people to know who I am.
        I just wonder if the first boy bands went through this. I'd love to ask one of the Beetles to see what they thought of their experiences, you know, without having to have some reporter breathing down his neck. Hell, I'd settle for talking to one of the New Kids On The Block. They were the ones right before us if I remember correctly.
So we're on to the next concert, and I need some sleep. I'd better sneak a drink from the thermos of NyQuil now so none of them can see what I'm doing and tell me to go back to rehab. I don't ever want to go back there again. Please, God, help me through this.

~Alexander James~
Alexander James
by BlueMew