Going Solo
Lifeless
The tears, the screaming, the loneliness was back. The never ending shouts were almost impossible not to hear. I grabbed a bag of Lays Sour Cream and Onion chips, my guitar, and iPod and ran outside. My parents usual fights came back and they were just stupid. I used to care so much about them, but no one cared for me when the fights came. No one cared about how I felt at all. My sister would be there for me, but she got accepted into Georgetown, PA and she was gone. I remembered her laugh and the way we would talk like best friends. It was like she had died when she went to college. I sat next to my stream in the backyard and started playing one of Taylor Swift's songs. The rythem was so familiar to me I felt like I had known it since 2002. Tears were still coming down my cheek and they felt warm with the sun shining. Music was the only thing that was there for me, the only thing. My friends are oblivious. They are fun to talk to and great for laughs, but they could never tell if I was crying. I could tell if someone was sad because I had been through so much. I once had a best friend. She was smart, funny, caring, an amazing horse-back riding, and a great story teller. She was my cousin Ima. But, her dad was a big alcohol drinker. He used drugs as much as I play music. One night he couldn't help himself. He was caught with majurrana at 11:36 at night. His face was plastered on The Journal News for a week. Ima was not surprised, but crying tears for days with me as her shoulder to cry on. A year later, we found out the news. Ima had cancer. I call it the C word. She was sick for 5 months. Just looking at her mad me cry. She was pale and lost all of her hair. She said she would never wear a wig because she doesn’t care if anyone would stare at her hairless head. She has the eyes of a true survivor. But, her death still came. She died on January 8th 2007. When I went to her wake and saw her face, I cried an ocean. It was pale, with no smile, lifeless. At her funeral, I played a song that was her favorite. I had wrote it for her a week before her death. And I didn't wear black to the funeral. I wore her favorite color, bright purple. I looked at the aquamarine water in the stream as another tear fell and mixed with the water floating away.