The red sky, plumed with clouds of cotton, drifted over my head as I stared off over the mountainside. I was alone, I have always been alone; So to fill the emptiness within myself, I come here to this isolated mountainside every morning. I still remember the day she left me, I still remember her smile as she went. I had blamed myself for losing her; So as my punishment, I stood over the edge, gazing at the beauty that had remained in the world. “Not today” I said to myself and turned back around to my car.
The crash of the waves against the hot sand echoed within my head. I sprawled myself across the sand; I could hardly walk and I was severely dehydrated. My “vacation” had gone horribly wrong when my boat was caught in a storm and I was thrown overboard, knocking me out in the process. When I awoke, I found myself marooned on this small island. I have nothing, no food, no water, and especially no way off this sand heap of an island. My strength began to fade as a small fishing boat came into view. Finally, I was saved.
“Every note matters” I mutter to myself, trying to hammer the notes on the steel woven guitar strings. I had been playing for hours and my callused fingers were starting to crack. Perfection was always a mile away. It had always been something I chased; the chugging, accompanied by the deafening gain and volume, resonated within me. The guitar felt like an extension of myself as I effortlessly played chord after chord, note after note. I was no longer an amatuer, my newfound talent had progressed into something more; something I could be proud of.