mindset • g.w.

one: pretty boy

Stars hung low in the evening sky, and while there were only a few, they cast a dim glow onto the floor of the earth.

The last rays of light enchanted the beads of dew that had formed and attached themselves to the grass with a peaceful glow.

The perfect mixture of day and night, creating an also perfect scene of serenity.

Serenity.

The word perfectly describes the evening, and it rings in my ear over and over again, bringing back memories of the moment.

The only sound disrupting this serenity was a gentle breeze, moving the swings back and forth.

While it may have been an eerie sound in the dead of night, it only brought me nostalgic memories of my childhood.

My childhood wasn't the most exciting, it of course featured three brothers and two sisters.

The typical chores of the eleven year old child, a burden to me at the time.

It was perhaps the biggest burden my little heart carried during that stage of life.

I find myself wishing to go back to those days, when I didn't have to worry about the daunting adulthood chores of working at unholy hours of the morning and getting to bed at even worse ones.

I'm now 19 years old with an addiction to chai tea lattes and expensive looking sweaters that I actually pick up from thrift stores. I know, I know. I like what I like, however basic it might be.

I am a waitress at Vern's Diner, a retro dine in style restaurant popular for milkshakes and a red Gibson Les Paul that was framed and hung proudly in the back corner of the restaurant.

It had been signed by some never was that played gigs at various bars throughout the town, but it was worshipped for whatever reason.

I worship all guitars, specifically Gibson guitars, no matter what musician has signed them.

I tuned back into the scene around me, deciding not to think about work if I didn't have to be there scrubbing tables and dealing with rude comments.

I come here often to feel like I actually had something that other people didn't have, I despise the fact that I have never been anything special.

I do not say that because I am some angsty teenager looking for reasons to feel out of the ordinary, no, I really have never been anything out of the normal.

Dusty brown hair and dull hazel eyes, a love for the arts, and a never ending need to fill the empty spot in my world that had been apparent ever since the day I was old enough to comprehend it. Like I said, nothing out of the ordinary.

Like many other people I turn to alcohol and drugs to temporarily dull the edges of the hole, but because it is not a permanent fix to the situation I always find myself coming back to the conclusion that I needed more all the time.

I stood up and dusted my shorts off even though it wouldn't help the fact that they were dampened by the beads of water that coated the grass from earlier's rain.

Once my feet got the instructions from my brain to carry me forward, I started walking in the direction of our local liquor store, per usual every other night.

It was not easy getting alcohol of course, being underage. I had to charm my way into getting forty year old men escaping their wives to buy for me, much to my displeasure.

Once I arrived at the parking lot I had sat in for hours upon hours so many times before I took a seat at my usual spot against the wall, waiting patiently for someone who looked like they wouldn't call the cops on me.