Perfect Rebellion

Prologue

  Some days you want to forget, others you want to live over and over again. For instance, I want to relive the day I bought my first guitar. I was fourteen and had no idea how to play it.

  That guitar was a beautiful acoustic-electric cut out. I'd spent two months earning up for it- the perks of being in a rich family- and couldn't wait to take it home. Of course it had to be a secret, as my parents didn't want me to be influenced into becoming a musician, though they'd turned me into the perfect little pianist.

  I remember spending hours, just learning chords and notes, picking it up so quickly, only to want to learn more.

  I remembering being so lonely, but so happy. I finally had something for myself. I was finally doing something my parents hadn't told me to do.

  That guitar was my first form of rebellion.

  There was always that craving, I wanted to know more, and more than one instrument. So, I bought a bass, and then an electric. I started writing my own songs, and sneaking into gigs at the locale bars.

  Now, for the day I want to forget.

  My parents caught me playing that old acoustic. They lectured me, told me it was a waste of time, that that time should be spent on school. When they realized I'd been playing awhile, they took away that old acoustic. I was sixteen at that point, and lucky everything else was still hidden away.

  I guess they thought that I just needed another creative outlet, so a cello was added to my classical list, and the violin soon after.

  Both of them are so beautiful and so addiction, but it has always been my secret friends that I've loved the most.

  My own rebellion.