Savannah was over Oscar. She'd gotten her heart broken and she fixed it up all by herself. At least that was what she thought.
In support of her best friend, Logan, Savannah Scott attends the Bahrain Grand Prix. She was confident she would be fine s...
It's three in the morning on Sunday and I've been sitting on my bed for hours trying to write something to get my feelings out but it's not working. Everything I write, I hate.
Part of my problem could be that I don't want to feel it. I just want to push everything I'm feeling aside. Ignore it in the hopes it'll go away if I do.
Pages of crumpled lyrics lay in a pile beside my bed, ripped from the notebook and discarded after I decided I disliked the scribbled words.
I know I should go to sleep. The race is today and Logan is expecting me to attend, but the thoughts in my head aren't allowing me to rest.
The image of her on his shoulder and his arm tightly wrapped around her waist keeps replaying in my head. I can't forget how we used to look like that.
I can't forget any of it.
I told Logan I would be fine seeing Oscar again, but that was a total lie. I've spiraled so far I'm practically right back to where I was when we first broke up.
With each passing minute, memories of us continuously jump to the forefront of my mind. Memories I've long forgotten, memories I stuffed in the far away corners of my mind, memories I never intended to remember.
It feels like no matter how hard I try to run from those memories, they keep chasing me down. Eventually catching up to me and forcing me to remember.
I was playing back a thousand memories baby thinking bout everything we've been through
I scribble the words down quickly, fearing I'll forget them if I don't. It's probably the first thing I thought of all night that I actually like.
More lyrics flow out of me, the words coming easier to me once I've let the memories flood my mind and enrapture my every thought.
I let myself be completely vulnerable, letting every thought and emotion hit the previously blank page.
Writing was my therapy, and the tear stained pages scribbled over in words that hold so much feeling prove that.
I finish the song unbelievably quick. Usually it'll take me days, maybe even weeks to finish one song, but I think all that pent up emotion helped move the process along in record time.
Everything I was feeling rushing from my heart right to the page.
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I wake up to a bright sun. I didn't get to sleep until about 4:30 in the morning. I turn my phone over, the time reading 11:00.
I'm not too worried about how late I slept in, until I see the multiple notifications from Logan. The race starts in an hour and I just woke up.
