Walking through each corridor of the school had a trip to the floor within it. The girls, the boys, the jocks, the geeks and those other misfits would step around me, and leave me in my own personal pain. It killed to watch as the one man I liked hurriedly got surrounded by screaming fan girls. It kills.
I would smile simply, acting like the perfect girl that any teacher would love. I would smile at school, cry the pain away in the comfort of my bedroom.
After 3 years you'd say I was used to it. You'd think I would expect each little harsh movement. It was like my life is stuck on replay, recording the first moment I fell to the floor, and the last gruesome one. My yells of agony was on record as I can still feel the whiffle bat gaining speed as it smashed with my guts.
So thats why I snapped, left school and found myself on the street. I still somehow educated myself, I still knew how to survive out in the concrete jungle of Los Angles. I was fine and I didn't end up in casino's or gaining money in return for another man's joy NO! I started begging, brought an apartment and started a music career.
So that is where I am found to this day, in a cheap studio recording music that get's used by run down clubs and cheap bars. My life may not be glamorous as many musicians, but it's now worth living. This is who I am.