He sometimes felt that if he
had the guts to get out there,
he'd never come back. Not once
he saw the rest of the world.
But this town was safe. He'd
hung around with the same bunch
of kids most of his life. Problem
was you always had to be the
person they expected you to be.
And the older you got, the more
you fell into old roles when you
were together.
He thought too much. That was his
problem. Words, ideas, eating away
at him. He didn't like it, this
thinking. He envied his friends who
didn't seem to think at all. Or were
they faking it too, just like him?
He cranked up the music so loud it
should blow out his eardrums. But
he didn't care. The music. He didn't
know what he'd do if he didn't have
music. Go crazy, maybe. Be he did
have it. Not the crap his friends
listened to, but the good stuff,
stuff that was too deep, too meaningful
for radio, stuff that kinda tore a hole
in your soul and left you aching for more.
(she)
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call me! i can take u.
itll be awesome