Troubled Times, chapter 2
There was my dad. Standing before me. I hadn't seen him in about 3 months now due to his arrest. He was smiling so big and he pulled me into a big bear hug. I was clutching my binder and didn't really feel like hugging.
"Give your dad a hug." My mom told me.
They talked a little and I explored the apartment. There was a balcony on the next level so I went to check it out. I followed stairs to the top in hope to find it. It was just a little bedroom, not even the master and it had a balcony. I jumped back down the stairs to see my mom and dad going over groceries that were on sale.
"Hey mom, I like these apartments. We should live in some." I informed my mom.
"Well pretty soon we will have to." She told me and I could notice a little bit of fear in her voice of us losing our house. It didn't really bother me, but I just didn't like the fact of no loud music and no loud guitar. Other than that, I liked apartments.
"Dad, see I would take off that railing and the doors and set up the guitars and stuff in there and make it like a stage." I said smiling.
"Well ok then." He said and smiled back.
"Do you want to see my guitar?" I asked him and showed him my drawing of a guitar.
"That one guy is suppose to be drawing me a guitar with a rose." He informed me once again about the tattoo he was getting drawn. Me and him were both getting matching ones when we were 'allowed' to see each other.
Me and my mom left a little while after that and I went home to get on the computer. I started searching all of the Green Day websites to see if they had released a date of when they were coming to Denver yet. And they still hadn't.
I was so eager for the concert, even thought it probably wouldn't be until mid-November. By then I would hope to have another guitar for Billie Joe to autograph. But like I would ever get to meet him. 'I wonder how fast the concert will sell out with posers?" I wondered to myself, then laughed at the thought, even though it would most likely be true. I don't even know how much tickets are going to cost, or if I will be able to afford them.
Our money issues depressed me. So in times like this, I just got out my guitar and started strumming away and making up lyrics in my head. I often did that, just to whatever was on my mind. A lot of times it was about me becoming famous, or Bush being an idiot, or even sometimes depressing lyrics.
Now, lyrics just come to me. Last year, you couldn't pay me a million bucks to write a decent song. Not that I wouldn't accept it, but I just sucked at it. Or maybe it was just in my mind, everyone always told me what a great writer I was. This year, that all came into play. Last year, I was just crazy. Everyone thought so, even I did. Sooo they put me on medicine, but I'm off it now, and damn glad to be. I had to see a therapist every fucking Thursday. It was crazy. Now I kind of fixed myself, I'm still crazy, but in a idiotic way, a good way and now, things are better. But my dad, he kind of fucked our money up.
"Give your dad a hug." My mom told me.
They talked a little and I explored the apartment. There was a balcony on the next level so I went to check it out. I followed stairs to the top in hope to find it. It was just a little bedroom, not even the master and it had a balcony. I jumped back down the stairs to see my mom and dad going over groceries that were on sale.
"Hey mom, I like these apartments. We should live in some." I informed my mom.
"Well pretty soon we will have to." She told me and I could notice a little bit of fear in her voice of us losing our house. It didn't really bother me, but I just didn't like the fact of no loud music and no loud guitar. Other than that, I liked apartments.
"Dad, see I would take off that railing and the doors and set up the guitars and stuff in there and make it like a stage." I said smiling.
"Well ok then." He said and smiled back.
"Do you want to see my guitar?" I asked him and showed him my drawing of a guitar.
"That one guy is suppose to be drawing me a guitar with a rose." He informed me once again about the tattoo he was getting drawn. Me and him were both getting matching ones when we were 'allowed' to see each other.
Me and my mom left a little while after that and I went home to get on the computer. I started searching all of the Green Day websites to see if they had released a date of when they were coming to Denver yet. And they still hadn't.
I was so eager for the concert, even thought it probably wouldn't be until mid-November. By then I would hope to have another guitar for Billie Joe to autograph. But like I would ever get to meet him. 'I wonder how fast the concert will sell out with posers?" I wondered to myself, then laughed at the thought, even though it would most likely be true. I don't even know how much tickets are going to cost, or if I will be able to afford them.
Our money issues depressed me. So in times like this, I just got out my guitar and started strumming away and making up lyrics in my head. I often did that, just to whatever was on my mind. A lot of times it was about me becoming famous, or Bush being an idiot, or even sometimes depressing lyrics.
Now, lyrics just come to me. Last year, you couldn't pay me a million bucks to write a decent song. Not that I wouldn't accept it, but I just sucked at it. Or maybe it was just in my mind, everyone always told me what a great writer I was. This year, that all came into play. Last year, I was just crazy. Everyone thought so, even I did. Sooo they put me on medicine, but I'm off it now, and damn glad to be. I had to see a therapist every fucking Thursday. It was crazy. Now I kind of fixed myself, I'm still crazy, but in a idiotic way, a good way and now, things are better. But my dad, he kind of fucked our money up.
