NEWS: Jonathan Vigil (The Ghost Inside) opens up, says “it’s bittersweet” going to shows!

The road to recovery is a long, hard, and difficult one for metalcore outfit, The Ghost Inside. On November 19th 2015, whilst the band were on the U.S. Highway 180 en route to Mesa, Arizona, approximately eight miles east of the border patrol checkpoint outside of El Paso, Texas, they were involved in a serious traffic incident when their tour bus collided head on with a tractor trailer.

Along with claiming the lives of the drivers of both vehicles, Greg Hoke and Steven Cunningham, the collision also resulted in vocalist Jonathan Vigil, guitarist Zach Johnson, drummer Andrew Tkaczyk, and two other passengers being hospitalised in critical condition. The affected members were left with life-changing injuries.

Whilst their recovery is ongoing, the band are doing what they can to re-establish their lives slowly but surely. When they’ll perform together as The Ghost Inside is currently uncertain.

In a recent post made via his personal Instagram account, Vigil has opened up and shared how he’s been feeling since the tragic crash when he has attended shows, describing it as a form of loss and “a hole that won’t close.”

You can read Vigil‘s full heartbreaking post below.

Being completely honest and transparent, going to shows is HARD. And I don’t mean hard in the physical sense because most venues, staff, security, patrons and show goers are very accommodating to handicapped or injured people. What I mean is it’s just hard… being here. It’s hard to know what we were and what we could be. I admit, I don’t go to shows as often as I should. As often as I want to. As often as I need to. But there’s a reason for it. —- It stings me. It hurts me. It’s bittersweet being here. I feel cheated. I feel wronged. I feel obsolete. Seeing a band play and knowing we had it. Knowing what we had. I had it. Watching a band play with a feeling of jealousy that I shouldn’t have but just can’t shake. It eats at me. I think to myself, “I did everything I could. I was that kid in the crowd singing along, aspiring to be up there. I worked hard and I did it. I got there. Like everyone else up there did. So how come they get to run around on stage when I won’t ever be able to run again? I can’t even walk on my own.” —- I’ve experienced loss before. Loss of innocence. Loss of youth. Loss of a loved one. But this loss is something I can’t seem to do anything to cope with. It’s a hole that won’t close. It’s like sitting around and watching a movie about your life, knowing how it’s going to play out and screaming for it to be different but you’re not the one with the mic anymore. No one can hear you. —- They’ll be lots of extremely kind sentiments, comments, wishes and thoughts on here. They always hit me and the words do help. The support is there absolutely, but it doesn’t end what I feel. That’s the honesty and transparency of this all. It’s like, would you go into something knowing the only outcome is heartbreak?

A post shared by Jonathan Vigil (@jonathanvigil) on

“Being completely honest and transparent, going to shows is HARD. And I don’t mean hard in the physical sense because most venues, staff, security, patrons and show goers are very accommodating to handicapped or injured people. What I mean is it’s just hard… being here. It’s hard to know what we were and what we could be. I admit, I don’t go to shows as often as I should. As often as I want to. As often as I need to. But there’s a reason for it.

It stings me. It hurts me. It’s bittersweet being here. I feel cheated. I feel wronged. I feel obsolete. Seeing a band play and knowing we had it. Knowing what we had. I had it. Watching a band play with a feeling of jealousy that I shouldn’t have but just can’t shake. It eats at me. I think to myself, “I did everything I could. I was that kid in the crowd singing along, aspiring to be up there. I worked hard and I did it. I got there. Like everyone else up there did. So how come they get to run around on stage when I won’t ever be able to run again? I can’t even walk on my own.”

I’ve experienced loss before. Loss of innocence. Loss of youth. Loss of a loved one. But this loss is something I can’t seem to do anything to cope with. It’s a hole that won’t close. It’s like sitting around and watching a movie about your life, knowing how it’s going to play out and screaming for it to be different but you’re not the one with the mic anymore. No one can hear you.

They’ll be lots of extremely kind sentiments, comments, wishes and thoughts on here. They always hit me and the words do help. The support is there absolutely, but it doesn’t end what I feel. That’s the honesty and transparency of this all. It’s like, would you go into something knowing the only outcome is heartbreak?”

More details regarding the band’s recovery will be confirmed as it develops.

We here at DEAD PRESS! wish them all the very best.