Yeah, so if this story gets posted, I'll be more inclined to update it. So, yeah, I'm gonna repost my part and then Nicole can you post your part and then we alternate? And then it'll be so hardc0re! hahaha..yeah, so..on with it.
EDIT: weird, some of the blue colour doesn't change to the white..
I don't know. I hate this. I really do. When you're stuck and you can't think of anything. This...this block, well, more accurately "writers block", but pssh. I just...I just wish words were easier to flow, like in music.
I really love to just sit down at my keyboard or with my guitar – acoustic because I like how natural that is – and just let all the angst and fears melt away from the creation of a musical piece.
It’s the ultimate release.
I love writing, though. It helps me get through this. Words have this inexplicable power. They just...are.. It’s really weird, but oddly comforting.
I’m currently working on a novel I want to send to publishers about a girl who always puts on bright red lipstick because she has this kick ass shiny lip ring and she’s secretly a FBI agent who loves plates.
I’m in a rut now. I guess I should just leave it and come back to it later.
Yayy...it’s time for muzak!
I cuddled up against my guitar as I sat on my comfy bed.
Soft chords emerged into the air as I slowly let myself go.
I started singing quietly to myself.
They don’t know what I want
What I’ve been lamenting
MM, slow and steady rhythm. Beautiful.
I stared into the mirror to the left of me and studied my features.
My heavy black eyeliner was accented by my pale features.
I am such an emo.
No, really, I just like eyeliner. It’s totally gorgeous.
I hate answering doors. It’s usually some politician or charity person or my friends. Gack!
I shall not answer it. I’ll just read whatever flier they leave with laughter.
Brrrrraaaiiiinnnnngggggg, the doorbell persisted.
Why? Why? You evil doorbell! I want you to die!
I played one chord and then discarded my guitar in the middle of my bed.
Begrudged, I walked towards the door.
It was Sam. It’s not like I should’ve been surprised.
He played bass and loved licorice.
Also, he was socially inept; he didn’t know the appropriateness of things in certain situations.
For instance, right now it’s 11:30PM and he’s on my doorstep.
It’s cute, though.
I opened the door.
“Hey, Sam,” I welcomed, “what’s up?”
“Erm…Sasha...I need to ask you something.”
I raised my eyebrows, “really? Pray tell.”
Haha, he looked really cute. His mouth was scrunched up and he was shaking a tiny bit.
It was like he was asking a girl out.
Wait – is he.. – no. He can’t be…
I mean, Sam is nice and all, it’s just that I don’t see him in that way.
See, I have trouble with relationships. I always seem to sabotage even the best ones. It’s like I don’t think I’m good enough and I don’t see a reason why anyone would like me and when someone does show an interest in me I find that incredibly hard to believe so I tend to be in disbelief and do something crazy and he ends up hating me in disgust and I’m left in tears.
It’s this never-ending vicious cycle. And each time I try to break it...to be a different person I fall apart and lose any hope I had previously.
I love Sam as a friend and would never want that to happen to us.
Also, another bit that deserves mentioning is that I never am friends with my ex’s. As much as I loved them and he loved me, it’s just not there anymore and he doesn’t want anything to do with me.
After putting so much time into a relationship and having it end because of your stupid insecurities and not being able to manage a friendship is completely disheartening.
I wish I was someone different.
That’s why I have music and writing.
They’re my escape from my reality.
Not to say that I only care about boys because that’s not the case.
Surprisingly, my friendships are awesome and totally fulfilling.
It’s ironic when you think about it.
But Sam knows this. He wouldn’t ask something like this, would he?
Unless he’s trying to help me. That’d be awfully sweet of him.
“So… yeah. I have this drummer dude and a keyboardist and we starting jamming the other day and it was like whoa. And I know that you play guitar and your voice is completely stellar so...”
Is he asking me to be in his band?
I mean, I’ve never really thought about it. I’ve always thought of music as a very personal thing that you kept private unless you wanted to sell out and have groupies and such.
I just like being by myself and letting everything come out of me like sand sliding through an hourglass.
“I...I don’t know...well, erm…you know.”
“Please, Sash, we planned to have this show at Radiate Citrus tomorrow. Please.”
“Isn’t it rather stupid to plan a show before you even have a band?”
“Well, you know, I’m not good at planning things. I just really wanted to have a band and this opportunity came up. Pleasey-squeezy?”
Awww…his face was contorted into this impossible-to-resist cute smile.
“Okay, I know the guitars, vocals and keyboards for my songs. I’ll go get them so that the keyboardist can learn the stuff and you can make up bass parts and drums,” I said with authority.