You Mean More to Me Than Words Could Ever Say

I was sitting on my bed, looking out the window and trying to calm my nerves. However, I knew the best way to do that was to play my guitar. I grabbed it from its case in the corner. Once the instrument was in my lap, I took out the pick from between the strings and played whatever I felt like. The melody that flowed from the strings started out dark and dramatic, then slowly picked up speed, reaching a climax in the song, and then died down until finally it faded out into a soft tune, before ending. I took mental notes of what I had just played. I realized the sunlight was retrieving, as it disappeared behind the clouds. It snapped me out of my trance as I placed the pick back in the guitar strings and put it gently in its case. I wrote in my notebook the chords I used in the song. I planned on finishing this one. Maybe with help from my friend Bob.

Eventually I closed the blinds, feeling violated since I knew once it got dark enough outside, it would be very easy to see inside. I wandered over to my desk, turning on my dinosaur of a computer and awaited the internet to load. I signed onto my MSN account and messaged my friend Bob.

Frank81- hey bobbert

bObB- francis.

Frank81- come over asap. new song to work on.

bObB- better not be shit. see you in 10.

After about a half hour, Bob finally showed up. He pulled into the driveway as I came out the front door, helping him unload his drum set. Neither of us said a word about him being late, that was usual for him. We didn’t have to worry about my mom complaining, since she worked full shifts during the weekdays and wouldn’t be home till probably about 10:30 tonight. As I helped Bob carry everything to the basement, I ran upstairs and grabbed my guitar and then met him down there.

We jammed for a few hours, talking about any way we could make the song work. Eventually we both agreed that soon enough we needed a singer. Also another guitarist and bassist.

“How the hell are we going to pull this shit off?” I asked Bob. He sighed deeply and put his drumsticks down.

“No fucking idea, but if fate and shits real, we’ll meet the right people to form this band.” I nodded my head, contemplating a way to meet some guys to get this going. We both really wanted this, a whole fucking lot.

“I can call up my buddy Ray, haven’t talked to him in over a year. He’s always been an amazing guitarist, but we had conflicting ideas and he took off. Hopefully if I kiss his ass enough he’ll help me out.” he explained.
I felt my hopes lift up a little bit.

“Alright. We got this. We can make this work.” He smiled and started packing up his stuff.

“Definitely.” He said, and with that, I knew something big was bound to happen for us.

X~x~X~x~X

After Bob left, I felt my stomach ache. I was hungry, considering I didn’t eat lunch, and I threw up my breakfast. I made my way to the kitchen, hoping to find something light enough, that would be gentle on me. I settled on tomato soup, putting it in the microwave and waiting patiently for it to be done. I noticed I had a slight headache, probably because I never got my coffee this morning. Although mom offered it to me, she never got around to making it, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to argue with her. I figured I’d make some after I eat, and take an advil.

I slightly burnt my tongue from the first spoon of soup. I slowly drank the soup, finishing about 3 quarters of it. I dumped the rest and started the coffee pot. I plopped down on the couch and rested, waiting till I heard it finish. Or smell, should I say. I was so addicted to the stuff I could smell it the second it finished. Once it was done, I poured myself some, adding a bit of hazelnut creamer and grabbing an advil. I finished the cup and went to bed that night, falling asleep realizing I didn’t give a shit about Gerard.