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Truth
Everyone knew I'd be famous one day; it was just an inescapable fate. How I was to make it there was a whole nother subject though. To be honest, up until I was fifteen years old, I hadn't had the slightest idea either. It wasn't til that amazing year that I learned my talent and my purpose.
I remember it like it was yesterday though it's been about six years. My friend's older brother, Jake had just gotten home from a year-long visit to Germany. With him he brought a German gal named, well to be honest, I don't remember. So we'll call her Helga. That's German, right? Anyway, Jake and Helga had not only spent a lot of time seeing the sights, but also participating in extra-curricular activities. Most of those activities included, but weren't limited to drinking, using cocaine, and taking money from the homeless they had found on the streets. While doing all of that, Jake somehow managed to learn how to play the guitar. Or he said he did at least, but at that point in time he was so concerned with getting his next fix, he didn't care what he had to sell. So he sold me his guitar. Two-hundred dollars and it was mine.
The guitar was my start. When I realized how well I could play, I didn't look back, but what I was looking forward to, wasn't realistic. I couldn't stay the sweet innocent boy that I had been and also be in a rock band. I had to make a decision and at this point in my life, I believe I made the wrong one.
It wasn't hard to find a band in need of a guitarist. They are all over. I just had to find a band that was good enough for me. Even at the age of fifteen I was a cocky son of a bitch and I didn't think half the bands out there deserved me. So I waited. I spent my days in the basement of my house, improving my guitar skills and waiting for the perfect band to come along and swoop me up.
It took quite a long time, but when I turned seventeen, I finally found a band worthy of my now well-developed talent, Truth.
I remember it like it was yesterday though it's been about six years. My friend's older brother, Jake had just gotten home from a year-long visit to Germany. With him he brought a German gal named, well to be honest, I don't remember. So we'll call her Helga. That's German, right? Anyway, Jake and Helga had not only spent a lot of time seeing the sights, but also participating in extra-curricular activities. Most of those activities included, but weren't limited to drinking, using cocaine, and taking money from the homeless they had found on the streets. While doing all of that, Jake somehow managed to learn how to play the guitar. Or he said he did at least, but at that point in time he was so concerned with getting his next fix, he didn't care what he had to sell. So he sold me his guitar. Two-hundred dollars and it was mine.
The guitar was my start. When I realized how well I could play, I didn't look back, but what I was looking forward to, wasn't realistic. I couldn't stay the sweet innocent boy that I had been and also be in a rock band. I had to make a decision and at this point in my life, I believe I made the wrong one.
It wasn't hard to find a band in need of a guitarist. They are all over. I just had to find a band that was good enough for me. Even at the age of fifteen I was a cocky son of a bitch and I didn't think half the bands out there deserved me. So I waited. I spent my days in the basement of my house, improving my guitar skills and waiting for the perfect band to come along and swoop me up.
It took quite a long time, but when I turned seventeen, I finally found a band worthy of my now well-developed talent, Truth.
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This is so rough it's not even funny. Feedback would be nice, even if you hate it. Also, I don't know if a band called Truth actually exists, but for this story, the band is totally made up. Nothing is even slightly based on real life.