Hearts Quick to Burn

I.

Lake Placid, NY.
August 24, 2009.

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The night was dark and the weather was colder, announcing the end of summer. I was lost, sitting at the bar, alcohol in my drink, loneliness in my thoughts. At this moment I thought life couldn't get a slight bit better. It wasn't my type to hang out alone – but there I was, so pathetically looking, my only but short-lived happiness stuck under my fingers.

I was aware that people were living worse than me, but I didn't care when I sipped those drinks. How would people be supposed to act if they couldn't be melancholic just because they knew someone was probably living worse than them? There will always be worse than yourself.

I quickly questioned myself about that, but shaked off this guilty feeling. Fuck, I wasn't drunk enough to be happy but not sober enough to have proper thoughts.

I was in the right to feel like this. At least I tried to convince myself.

I just missed a stable life. I missed the sweet boyfriend I thought he was before I had found out he cheated, I missed the house I had before my family had sent me away to this fucking town lost in the middle of nowhere. Okay, it had some great views and a beautiful lake. But I couldn't find any good thing to say about this situation.

Whatever, I said to myself as I spoke up to ask for another drink - tequila, this time.

"You sure?" The bartender asked me, and I had to contain myself so I wouldn't slap him in the face. "I mean, I've been watching you sipping on a lot of different drinks tonight, and I'm worried about you. You're not 18, you shouldn't be drinking or simply just be here. You're not even old enough to know how bad life gets."

I rolled my eyes and put a bunch of bills on the counter. "I'm still not drunk. Take the money and give me this goddamn drink, we both know this town is too broke to care about who comes into the bar or not."

He looked at me silently during seconds that felt like hours, and finally took the money, pouring me a drink. He then gave it to me, though with a disapproving look. It didn't matter, and I didn't care. Nobody was here to yell at me because I was too fucked up.

I took the glass to my lips. At the same time, a girl came on the tiny stage – so tiny that I didn't even remark it before she stepped on it with her high heels, slowly approaching the mic.

I noticed her friends were shouting at her as she was giggling and blushing. She was obviously embarrassed, and they probably forced her to sing.

All I could see from where I was sitting was that she was quite tall and had short blond hair. She looked cute, honestly. Even more when she picked up a guitar and spoke a bit too close to the glitchy mic.

"I'm Lizzy Grant, and this is my song called 'Mermaid Motel'..." She said with a light laugh, anxious.

I had never sang anything to people, but I could understand why she was so anxious. First of all it isn't easy for everyone but... Everyone in this bar was drunk as hell and simply didn't care about whatever she was doing. I kinda disliked her friends for bringing her up there on stage.

But I changed my mind quickly.

When she started singing my ears thanked her friends for forcing her to sing. I felt like I was blessed. That was... Unusual. She really had her own way of singing. I just couldn't describe that.

When Lizzy Grant stepped off the stage I had finished my drink, but I wasn't that much drunk. Just a bit... Dreamy.

I didn't want any more glass of anything, I just wanted to be happy. And I was, for once. I guess I was more drunk than what my self confidence was telling me. In the first place, I didn't have any self confidence.