WHAT I WAS MADE FOR | brady noon

1 | peter losing wendy

SEPTEMBER 19TH - SHEPHERDS BUSH MARKET, LONDON

"and when i felt like i was an old cardigan, under someone's bed, you put me on and said i was your favorite."

IN real life & instagram

✶✶✶ 

I was in Shepherds Bush Market, perfectly far away from Picadilly Circus and the cluster of tourists that had come to London for their summer holiday.

I didn't know why I found it necessary to escape the bustle of New York and come to a whole new bustle, but a change in scenery felt right if I was ever going to get out of this endless writer's block.

I had heard about author's quitting writing books altogether because they had suddenly lost their passion and inspiration for their words, but I never thought it would happen to me, especially when my task was to write a couple of verses, a choruses, and a punchy bridge.

In the meantime, I just found pleasure in singing for the people passing by. There were the elderly folks that liked to come early in the morning after stopping by the church down the road, then the teenagers my age that took pictures with every fluffy pink cowboy hat they found in the stalls, and the last wave was the parents that rushed through the market trying to grab every clean produce item available.

One of the shop owners, whom I knew let me set up a chair outside of her booth and attract customers. It was a win-win situation and I got to hang out with her daughter, one of the baristas, and my best friend practically all day.

She'd listen to me sing a cover of a Lana Del Rey song while flipping through the latest newspaper. She always played the Sudoku.

After she moved to bloody England last year and left to me to my own devices, I counted down the days until I'd be able to visit London and reunited with her after so long. Finally when summer came, her parents invited me to their place and we currently shack up in their tiny 2 bedroom flat, finding peace in the simplicity.

I wish I could stay forever. This city made me feel like something or someone was waiting for me. Maybe I had reached my full potential and peaked my sophomore year of high school, but it felt as if there was more here waiting for me.

"Cause I knew you." I looked at Astriella, and she looked back at me with glossy eyes. She got emotional every time I played a Taylor Swift song, she was such a swiftie it almost pained me the amount of lyric references she would sneak into our regular conversations, but I couldn't complain. I love her just as she is.

"Tried to change the ending, Peter losing Wendy ahh." That line hit harder than anything I had ever heard, and it encapsulated everything my mind was begging me to write down, but the words wouldn't come out of the pen and no matter how hard I shook it, my thought pen was out of ink.

I continued, as I finally realized she had been filming me. I tried not to mess up when I realized she'd be able to watch my flop over and over again if I messed up a note or sounded off-pitch.

A small gathering started to form around the coffee stall, holding up the walkway between both sides. Shop owners were mad, but they didn't yell, they just listened.

A little girl started dancing in front of me with her older sister. They had such perfect form and intention with their movements that I could of sworn they were ballerinas. Such kind ballerinas at that, they tipped me $5 each by putting it in the tip jar while heading in to buy a drink.