It’s strange as hell, being me. I ain’t kidding. People go crazy when they see me. Girls scream, I’ve seen guys scream too…which is the weirdest shit. And creepy in some people. Aight most people. But people freak out at the sight of me. I think it’s because I’m famous. I know, DUH Nick. Except I bet most people don’t know that I don’t get just how I got famous to begin with. Yeah yeah yeah, the story about how we formed the group is known by every girl born in the 1990’s. Auditions, getting in, creepy fat dude who liked me way too much… you get the drift.
But I wasn’t anything special. I was this poor kid living in Ruskin, Florida, and for a while out of my parent’s car. I was scrawny, I had a nasally as hell voice, and I was only twelve years old trying to sing about getting it on. No charisma, couldn’t dance, I was awkward and about to go into puberty. I shouldn’t have had a prayer. I know I shouldn’t have made it. Sam, one of the original members, wasn’t a fan of mine. He figured if someone like me could make it, he could do better solo. Bad move, but I almost agreed. He was better, and was mad he was stuck with someone like me. AJ defended me, but only because he knew me from other Florida gigs.
I’m convinced even today that the only reason I made it was because Lou had that creepy ass pedophile thing for me. Lucky for me, Kevin tried to protect me when he didn’t find me annoying. They wanted me in the group cause they thought I was somehow special.
I don’t see it.
Aight, so fast forward a few years. We’ll say Millennium. It’s the dream team now. Me, Kevin, Brian, AJ, and Howie. The world is kissing our ass and we got cocky cause of it. Kicking boy band ass and taking names, showing the world hell yeah “We’ve got it goin’ on”. AIght, lame joke, sorry. Anyways, we loved it, we loved life. We do what we’re told, we sing, we dance, and we break records. That pretty much was what 1999 was for us. I’m 19 years old, finally free from the mess my family was. I see my brother being forced even more into the spotlight without the support I had, and my mother wouldn’t let me do anything about it. I’m partly why my siblings are so fucked up, cause I didn’t try enough. I didn’t do everything I had to, to save them from our fucked up parents.
Yet people still love me, adore me.
I don’t see it.
Let’s keep going up another couple years aight? Now we’ll jump ahead. Past Black and Blue, past AJ’s rehab, up into the beginning of the almost end. The moment when there almost wasn’t a Backstreet Boys after 2002. Yeah, you know where I’m ’bout to go with this. Now Or Never, my solo album. I needed that release, and loved it even when Jive forced me in some ways to be something I wasn’t. (Is It Saturday Yet? Their idea to have it on the album). The fellas didn’t get why I had to do it, they thought I was abandoning them. Hell they almost went on with me, did ya know that? Yeah, the album was supposed to be called “Dirty Little Secrets”. Shit, I never understood why they decided not to. And yeah, Brian explained it to me a shitload of times, how they couldn’t do it, I’m their little bro, it wouldn’t be right…
I don’t see it.
And now we’re here, into the years 2006 through 2008. The ride has been crazy as hell. In 2006 I did a reality show Brian was ashamed to be on. Blurry Brian is what hit the TV, that’s how the fans dubbed it. Kevin left the group, and so now we were down to four. Those things are what made me take a good look at me, myself, I. Me, a man who was a mess, slowly coming apart. I was loved still, people screamed my name, and people couldn’t stop watching me fuck up on House of Carters. All for a person who at almost thirty fucking years old, didn’t have a clue who he was. Not a damn clue.
Who was I? I’d ask myself, I don’t see it.
So I tried to find it. I still ain’t sure if I did. How do you see who you are when all your life you’ve lived surrounded by fame, media, managers, handlers, family, all telling you who to be? I never got a damn chance to figure it out, not even when I went solo. So I decided to figure out my image, shallow as it sounds. It was shallow, but it helped. I slimmed; suddenly the media was on my ass again. Oh wow, Nick lost weight? Whatever. I went to therapy, I went to Kevin. All to seek out just who the hell Nick Carter really was. I worked my voice, relearning my trade, trying to see if improving myself will help me find out who the fuck I am.
I didn’t find that yet. Or I don’t think I did. I found an outlook though. I see how positive the world can be, and how fucked up it is right now. I see hope in where we can go, if we decided to go for true change. I see me, beyond the fame, the music, the Backstreet Boys, finding a way to settle when my ride finally comes to a stop. I ain’t sure when it’ll be, but I won’t fall apart like I woulda done a few years back. Fans love this about me. They love me even more now. They think I finally “put myself together”. At the concert in Las Vegas, just days before, I’m sick as fuck. We had to CANCEL a show in Phoenix. Yet I get the most damn screams. I can’t even sing and the screams were the loudest for me. The fans screaming how they think I’m something special.
Me, some boy out of a small town in Florida, is something special for so many people. Kevin, at this show in LA, was saying how proud he was of me. Just for getting myself to not be a mess anymore. What is it about me? What the hell do they see?
Because I just don’t see it.