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[08 Oct 2008|02:05am] |
Only seconds into his birth, he was anointed the golden one. Holden Brooks Campbell, the good son. The second, and final, child born to Brooks and Jannelle Campbell, there were lofty expectations set upon his tiny, fragile shoulders from day one. He'd be their retribution, he'd be their proof, he'd be their legacy, he'd be their pride. After all, he didn't have the title of 'Mistake' looming over his head, not like that of his brother, York, four years his senior. To say he was spoiled as a child would not necessarily be the truth - his family made enough to get by, sure, but living in the lap of luxury wasn't ever going to happen, but in retrospect, he was certainly lavished in a way York was not. With attention. This, naturally, bred resentment between the brothers, but Holden idolized York anyway, and could often be found following him around.
As he grew older, it became obvious that he was caught in the middle. Between his love for his parents, and his love and adoration of his brother. It seemed, finally, York came to this conclusion as well, and finally began to cut his younger brother a break, even inviting him out every now and again. But York was the rebel, his crowd of friends certainly wouldn't have been approved of. His pull was strong, and Holden was smoking by age fourteen and drinking soon followed. As much as he wanted to be his brother, though, he made sure to steer clear of the drugs - at least at first. Every day fights drove York to drop out of school and leave home, though not very far. Only three blocks away, but Holden kept his promise, and never told his parents. Without York, and in fear that Holden would only follow were they to pressure him to change, Brooks and Jannelle took, perhaps naturally, a gentler, friendlier approach with Holden to turn him around. Soon, he filled his days instead with his father, who shared with Holden his exhaustive knowledge and unending passion of music. He taught Holden to play guitar and piano, and not just to hear music, but to really listen. He shared with Holden his love of life, of love. Their family of four seemingly dwindled down to three without notice.
But three quickly became two, on a cold, rainy day in December, when Holden was pulled out of school and driven to the hospital by his desperate, inconsolable father. "There's nothing we can do for her," was the only thing they'd been told, and at sixteen, Holden watched his mother die as he leaned against the wall in her hospital room, too scared to join his father at her bedside. He had begged York to come home, or at least to the funeral, but neither happened. At a time when any other child his age would have been crippled and crumbled under grief, Holden was forced to stand tall and as a crutch as he watched all that remained of his family fall apart. Days became weeks and weeks became months and nothing changed. Holden remained the crutch, his father remained a mess. Disillusioned and angry, Holden turned once more to his brother, finding himself sharing whatever couch it was that York currently slept on a few hours once a week, every few days, every other day, every day, falling into the same trap that had taken York away from him in the first place. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months again, and still nothing changed. He spent his eighteenth birthday high and alone in his room, with nothing to keep him company aside from the Springsteen records his father had given him in a life that felt light years away. All that kept him sane in those long months, years, that followed his mother's death, was his girlfriend, a beautiful girl he loved deeply and seemingly endlessly.
When his grandmother passed away and his portion of the inheritance came into his possession, he took off on his own, desperate to get out, desperate for a change, desperate to get away from what had become only a mere shell of the man he had once believed in. Their family of four had dropped to three, to two, to none. On his own, he job hopped to pay bills, burning his inheritance more on pot and whatever he could get his hands on. As his addictions spiraled out of control, so did his life, and that girl he loved so desperately became nothing more than to him than someone who stood in his way. Love and money runs out, and when that happened, he found himself nearly destitute, relying on ten dollars an hour to pay for his addictions instead of his bills. With no other choice, he moved back home and with that beautiful girl and his father's help, both of them desperate not to lose him, Holden began the long, arduous road to sobriety. He picked up his guitar again in that time, and finding himself caught in the heavy depression that shrouded him, he picked up a pen, too, and began to write, finding the release he'd so desperately needed. He began to pick up the pieces of his life and rebuild his relationship with his father, and steady the one with the only woman he'd ever loved, though they never managed to come back together despite her being pregnant, and the birth of their daughter. A dream came to him in that earlier time, with only that guitar and that pen, a dream he continues to chase even now, both with his band and a budding solo career, despite the pressures and sacrifices of fatherhood, despite the constant battles with a past he still must work to make peace with.
( She said, 'you remind me of Rod Stewart when he was young, you've got passion and you think that you're sexy, and all the punks think that you're dumb.' )
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