Polaroids and Postcards | ✔️

Chapter 2: Problems in Pennsylvania (EDITED)

The question was fair. After all, shouldn't everyone feel like they are different? Like they were born to be special? That's what we're brought up thinking, anyway. In my case, though, it would be true. I would defy the norm. I was different.

But what makes you special, Jason?

Well, I was extremely dedicated. I graduated high school early just so I could get a head start on my career. I saved up and moved out of New Jersey to find a chance like this. I thought my chance would come in New York, but I had apparently been looking in all the wrong places. Still, I never stopped trying, and that had to count for something.

Others are dedicated too.

Fine. I was tough. I wouldn't let rejection get me down and I would push through it no matter the cost. When the day came, I'd be able to look back on my hardships and moments of failure with wisdom and remind everyone who looked up to me that it takes being brave enough to make mistakes to eventually reach the top.

As has every other famous musician...

I groaned outwardly as I drew a complete blank.

What song does one write when one's entire future is at stake? A corny break up song about that girl in 11th grade? A hopeful song about my dreams of becoming a star? A song to burn all of the people who said I couldn't make it? The possibilities were endless, but something just didn't feel right. It wasn't just a simple 'do-you-want-extra-cheese-on-that?' type of decision. This could make or break my whole career. My number-one goal in life all depended on writing the perfect song. But where was it? And what about me was special?

•••

Before long, I was in Pennsylvania and still no tune I hummed, sang, or whistled stood out to me. I tossed out snippets of an idiotic love song that rhymed every other word, I rambled some lyrics that I would take to the grave, and I audibly wheezed when I realized I had accidentally started humming the jingle for a toilet cleaner commercial. None of my ideas were good enough to even be considered ideas.

I racked my brain for a vocal run that was in my range, but my throat was screaming for a break and a cold milkshake, so I decided that maybe I needed to make another pit stop. Just as the thought crossed my mind, a road sign up ahead stated that I was soon going to be entering a town just outside of Pittsburgh, and I huffed impatiently. How much longer before I could finally get a drink and use the restroom? My feet started tapping on the floor and I tried to relax.

Just breathe, Jason. Almost there...

Just as I crossed into the city limits, a smell began to fill the inside of my car. It smelled like something very important and expensive burning. An ache of worry swirled in my stomach and spread further when the smell grew stronger. All too soon, I realized that my pile-of-crap car was giving off smoke.

"Nononono..." I hissed, squeezing the wheel tighter than ever, "Don't die on me now! C'mon, keep rolling."

As if it was mocking me, the car began to make a loud knocking noise under the hood. The more I pushed it further, the louder it protested, and it slowed down to a crawl until it finally stopped.

A car passed me, not even bothering to slow down.

I cursed, loudly.

When I quickly remembered that the car wasn't going to move any more from my usage of colorful language, I climbed out. Smoke engulfed me as I approached the hood and yanked it open. A weird-smelling liquid had splattered all over the inside, covering the interior. That must've been why it was smoking and making that crazy noise.