July 18th, 1983
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I sat in my room, mindlessly strumming chords on my beat up, out of tune guitar.
God I wanted a new one.
My room was messy, messier than it typically is. I haven't had the motivation to actually get up and clean it the way it needed to be. I haven't felt like doing much other than sitting and playing my guitar. I normally loved to be organized and have my room be clean, so to say this is out of the ordinary for me would be an understatement, but oh well. My room will be fine, and so will I.
I finally got up and hung my old, beat up, pale yellow Stratocaster, back onto its place which was hanging on my wall. I've had that thing for going on 8 years now.
I had been begging my dad for a guitar for months, and finally on my 10th birthday he got one for me. Little did I know that was the last birthday I'd ever end up spending with him.
I've always been fascinated by guitars, ever since I was a kid. Playing it made me feel a sense of happiness, that nothing else in this sad small world ever possibly could. I felt at peace when I had my guitar, whatever troubles I had simply went away once I started playing. I'm not great at playing guitar, but I guess that doesn't really matter. It's more about the passion of it that counts for me.
Ive been spending a lot of time in my room, alone with my thoughts. I had a few friends but not many, however I don't really mind that. I'd rather keep my circle small anyways. I have my best friend Liliana, my brother Cliff, and I was also friends with Cliffs band mates, James and Lars.
Don't get me wrong, I love them all dearly. I just have found it a bit more difficult to be around them lately.
My boyfriend- well ex-boyfriend now, Dave and I broke up a few weeks ago. He was the guitarist in the band that my brother was in. He was kicked out for the exact reason I had broken up with him for. His drug and drinking problem.
When things started out it was great. Dave was the typa guy that was super fucking cocky and a total dick to everyone, except for the people he got close to. He had a soft spot for me and the rest of the guys and I knew that. Although he didn't show it to them as much, he did. Unfortunately once they started gaining a bit of attention, and they started going to more gigs Dave picked up a drink problem, and eventually he got on drugs. He drank before of course, but the gigs is when he started getting out of hand with it.
I think leaving him was the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life. I loved him more than anything, but he was starting to get violent. He never ended up hitting me or anything, but when he was drunk, we'd start arguing, and then he would start throwing shit. Again not at me just in general, but ya' know what they say 'first it's stuff around you, and then it's you'.
Unlike the guys, I wasn't mad at him and I didn't hate him. I don't think I could ever actually hate him. He was my first everything.
I wanted to help him so badly, me and the guys always urged him to go to rehab. Which is what most of our arguments were about. He didn't think he needed to go, and I'd tell him otherwise. He kept refusing to go and eventually I guess that's what led to the guys kicking him out.
That's why it was so hard to be around them right now, they all just shit talked him and I don't think I could handle it. As for Liliana she's his fucking sister so, if I show up there gingers just gonna be sitting there on the couch when I walk in.
I wish he would've went, maybe things could have been different. Unfortunately, it is what it is
Suddenly I turn my head, to the sound of my door creaking open.
"Still mopin' around?" Cliff questioned, first looking around at my room, then at me.
I chuckled softly and shrugged, "I guess you could say that."
Cliff let out a sigh and made his way over to my bed, sitting down next to me.
"Look kid, I know it wasn't easy for you. Hell, all we did was kick him out the band and it was still a difficult thing for us to do." He said, draping his arm around my shoulders.
"Difficult for you maybe, not so much James and Lars." I said with a hint of sarcasm.
Cliff cracked a smile. "It'll all be okay, Dave's just a stupid kid, doing stupid shit right now. Everything will work itself out eventually. Plus he's just one dude and you're only 18, you got the rest of your life to find yourself another guy". He stated as he gave me a firm side hug, with the arm around my shoulders.
I sighed and looked at him, "I guess you're right."
He had a pretty good point.
"Alright, enough of the sappy shit." He chuckled as he took two blunts he had rolled out from his pocket.
He handed one to me, and I grabbed my lighter from off my nightstand. I lit both of our blunts, and eventually Cliff went and rolled a few more.
Cliffs parents adopted me when I was 10. They had found me wandering around in downtown San Francisco, all on my own. I was homeless for going on a week or two at the time.
As I said earlier my 10th birthday was the last one I spent with my dad, before he went to prison.
My dad was a total drunk, all he ever fucking did was down glasses of liquor like it was nobody's business. He was a dick when he was drunk too, he'd always scream at me over little things, the smallest itty bitty mistakes set him off like a firework, he even ended up hitting me a few times. He was alright when he was sober though, we actually got along fairly well then.
Anywho, one day when he was driving home from the bar with his friends, they were in a horrific car accident. I don't remember many details about it, but I know the two guys had died and my dad was severely injured. He ended up being charged twice for vehicular homicide, along with some other stuff they found when doing a background check on him.
I don't remember how long his sentence was, but I knew I was mostly likely never gonna see him again. After he was arrested I had nowhere to go. My mom was a heroine junkie, she died when I was really young. I wanna say I was around 4 or 5 at the time, I don't remember much of her. None of my grandparents were in contact with my father either, they all fucking hated him. Hell, to this day they still probably don't know he's in prison.
Eventually I wandered to downtown San Francisco, where Cliff and his parents found me, and now here I am. I honestly couldn't be more grateful, they're truly amazing people.
After about an hour of smoking blunts back to back, and hotboxing my fucking room, Cliff and I were high off our asses. We eventually made our way downstairs and decided to watch a movie.
I was so far gone that I don't even remember what it was, but I ended up falling asleep peacefully for the first night in a few weeks.