A Little Luck

Chapter 5

I am not exactly sure what's going on right now.

I mean, let's face it, I've been in worse fixes.

I posed as a drug dealer once on the street to get a couple of bucks.

I gave the addicts sugar when they wanted cocaine.

Don't judge me, they couldn't tell the difference until it was too late, and by then I had used their money for food and a new jacket.

Life on the street is hard.

It's a dog-eat-dog world and you can either go with the flow and die or defeat the odds and survive.

I've had to beg, steal, and lie more than I ever could have imagined.

But I have never played music on the corner before in my life.

And I have never gotten paid for my voice.

And I never have been watched by a crowd of people before.

I felt like I was under observation...but...I liked it.

I liked the way people followed my voice...it made me feel like I was worth more than the thread-bare rags I had changed into.

Okay...let me explain here.

I left Liam's place in a t-shirt and jeans. They were nice looking...but they were his. I didn't want to feel like I was preying off of his unclear wealth or something...

plus, I didn't want the boys to find me. Louis saw me leave in that shirt, he could find me in that shirt.

I didn't want that to happen.

I just wanted to prove to myself that I could be independent.

Because Louis was, in a nutshell, completely right about me.

I had been selfish.

I had taken advantage of other people's generosity in order to make myself feel cared for and more or less human after the way my mother had behaved towards me.

My life wasn't filled with kind things, but it was all I had, and I was going to make the best of what I had left if it was the last thing I did.

So...I changed clothes.

I changed back into my old life to begin a new one...and you know what's really strange? It felt good.

It felt good to finally take my life in my own hands. I was no longer treating myself like I was at the mercy of the people around me. I wasn't begging. I was entertaining. 

About half way through my first song, I had drawn a crowd of about ten people. Liam's guitar case was open in front of me and the people watching started dropping what they had in their pockets into my guitar case. For each penny, quarter, dollar, or dime that was dropped, I felt more and more capable. More self-assured...more qualified. I felt like Liam wasn't lying to me...that if some random stranger who was influenced by nothing other than my voice decided to put money in my case, then I might actually be able to make a living off of doing what I loved.

I might be able to survive using only my voice.

After I finished my first song, I called out for requests from the growing number of people surrounding my little street corner. Someone called for "Your Song" by Elton John. I grinned broadly and began to strum the opening chords.

My mind flitted from lyrics to making sure my fingers were in the correct position to the amount of money that had begun piling at the bottom of my case.

"I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I wrote down in words..." I took my hands away from my guitar and belted the last few words of the song, "how wonderful life is, now you're in the world."

And as people applauded my voice once more, I couldn't help but wonder if I would ever hear them applaud my song. One that I had written. 

Or, if I was lucky enough, one that was written about me.

I guess I was still niave. Despite being on the streets and despite knowing about all the bad parts of society...I still believed that I could love and be loved. It was actually my greatest wish beneath my being independent of those who made me feel incomprehensibly small.

I continued to play until I felt my fingers throb. I played until my voice was hoarse and my case was so filled with petty cash that I couldn't fit my guitar inside anymore.

Well, that was a rather good idea if I do say so myself, I thought as I threw my guitar over my shoulder and began to walk away from my corner, I can't believe I got that good of a turn-out. Must've been pay day or something.

Not knowing where else to go, I retraced my steps to Liam's apartment. Until I figured out what else I needed to do, I had to take advantage of his hospitality. I legitimately did not see another option or else I would never have gone back to that place. I knew that Liam welcomed me, but there's only so much of a burden I can allow myself to be on a friend before I decide that the time has come for me to move on and quit imposing.

I walked up the stairs to the apartment. My guitar case was much heavier than it had been before, and Liam's apartment was pretty high up within its complex, so by the time I had reached his floor; I was completely and totally exhausted. All I wanted to do was go inside, have a cup of cocoa, and fall asleep.

But when I opened the door with Liam's spare key, which I had grabbed before I left the apartment for the day, and saw the screaming, choatic havoc that was in place in the main room, I soon realized that my simple night of cocoa and slumber was a dream I wouldn't be able to experience.

Suprised to see me?

If you're not, you should be. A little birdie told me that my followers thought that I had died.

I am obviously not dead. 

I'm just a zombie. Duh, like always!

Anyway, I decided to update this story because I already had some of it drafted and I wanted to just update it and get it off my to-do list. I've been writing this for a while though...probably about a year now? Yeah.

This is sad, guys. I'm sorry for being stupid and not updating sooner.

Oh well.

No hating, just appreciating!!!

Kay, love you guys. 

QUICK!!! COMMENT, VOTE, AND FOLLOW OR I'LL NEVER UPDATE AGAIN PERIOD AMEN END OF STORY

k, thnx

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