Tap Tap Tap / Peterick

Chapter 3

I've loved singing since forever. Whether it was with my mother while cleaning the kitchen, putting shows on for my stuffed animals, writing songs about my stuffed animals, starting an a capella group with my cousins while on vacation, or awkwardly singing along to karaoke tracks alone in my bedroom - singing always found a way into my life. It came naturally to me.

Writing, on the other hand, was a completely different story. When I first began writing songs, around age 10, I expected to come as easily to me as singing did. The thing with singing though, is that I didn't have to try. So when I wrote my first song, a song dedicated to my beloved stuffed bear, I was utterly shocked when I was forced to put some effort into it, and even then it wasn't that good. Of course I got away with it because I was 10 years old. Now I'm 18 though, and a few rhyming words just aren't cutting it.

You know what they say, "writing is an exploration. you start from nothing, and learn as you go."  To put it simply, I was stuck in the start from nothing stage, and it absolutely fucking sucked.

I was sat in the small little office area that was in my apartment, resting my elbow on the desk. There was an empty sheet of paper in front of me, with an untouched pencil beside it. I racked my mind for something, anything to write, but absolutely nothing came to mind. I don't remember writing ever being this difficult. Honestly, I expected Los Angeles, California to inspire me, but it actually proved to do the opposite.

I guess it might have something to do with the fact that I've been staying in my apartment for the two days that I've been here. I planned on going out and making friends, but I never actually went through with my plan. I mean, I guess I consider Meagan a friend, but we haven't spoken since that night she helped me. Perhaps she could inspire me.

I pushed myself out of the leather spinny chair that I brought from home, and that I loved because I was still a 5 year and I loved spinning. As soon as I stood up, I felt a bit light headed because I stood up way too fast. It was a nasty habit of mine.

I ignored the feeling as much as I possibly could, wobbling from the office area into the bathroom, where I met my reflection in the mirror. I looked like an absolute mess, but that was nothing a shower couldn't fix. Showers were always one of my favorite things to do within a day, mostly because it was just one of those things that helped clear my head. Like driving.

I stripped my clothes, and twisted the water on, waiting for it to heat up. I avoided looking into the mirror at all costs, because I knew that would just run me down, like it always did. To say that I was not okay with the way I looked would be an understatement because I was absolutely disgusted with myself. It was actually pretty funny how everything changed so quickly, because I remember being a kid and looking into the mirror and being absolutely in love with what I saw, and now I can't stand what I see.

After a few agonizing seconds, I stepped into the now warm shower. The water hit my back, and I let out a sigh of relief. I loved this.

I stood under the hot water for a few minutes before I actually moved to wash my hair. Honestly, I could stand under that water all day, but then I'd into a prune, and that wouldn't be good at all. When I did reach for the shampoo, I nearly dropped it, causing me to catch my breath. It was the littlest things that made me do that.

I squirted a little bit into my hand and massaged it into my hair, relishing in the feeling of my hands moving through my hair. It didn't take long for me to finish and wash it out, moving onto the conditioner, repeating what I did with the shampoo. Then I used my body wash, which had a vanilla scent, and I knew that was a girl thing to everyone else but hell, it smells damn good and I'd rather smell like a girl than use whatever it is that men use these days. Axe or something? I don't know.