Something in the Way

Sleeping Beauty Walts - Prologue

"Truly there would be reason to go mad were it not for music." - Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky.

All I wanted was to master Bach's minuet but I was getting no where with it. I would either play a la instead or a sol, or skip a tempo and that was enough to make me go crazy at myself. If my performance wasn't exceptionally
pleasing, my teacher would be disappointed in me. If my teacher was disappointed, my parents would be disappointed at me. And if my parents were disappointed at me, I wouldn't be able to sleep from the guilt. I indeed know that this happens to be a crybaby move to do, but that's basically what and who I am.
I take a deep breath and try one more time. The moment my finger dances with the tiles I forget everything. I no longer know where my hands are going, and all i do is enjoy the music. I bop my head up and down, and down and up to the rhythmic line and mentally laugh at how unprofessional I look. In moments like this I'm living and breathing with the melody, with the music. It is as I am a concert piece myself, made from music notes and cords. However it doesn't last long. Before I know it, I do the same old mistake. I play a la instead of a sol. Angry at myself and my old piano I frown and get up in just seconds. Quickly, I put my boots on and grab a jacket, leaving the house in nothing but a rush.
*********
Walking around the center of the city, alone, in a Saturday afternoon wasn't on my plan. I probably didn't look as cool as one could. Life forgets so easy. Just a year ago I would walk here everyday, with my girl clique. Now, no one seemed to know me. I was walking past people and people were walk past me without leaving the slightest of impact.
     Me winning the scholarship, permanently deleted the previous year of my life. All the crazy things I did were long gone. No more beers and vodka and cigarettes. No more hookah or sneaking out with friends. It almost  felt like I never did any of those things,but instead saw them on TV or something.
    I look down on my Iphone, and decide to play some Nirvana, trying to lose my pagan teen misery to Kurt's voice. For a moment, for no apparent reason I look up. And his blue eyes meet my black ones, for the hundredth of time. My heart beats loud enough to catch his attention, and my legs magically turn into marshmallows. I am nothing more than a mess. He is not just a view, he is the view. The local punk-star. I don't even notice his freshly dyed green hair, as his lined blue eyes captivate me in every way possible and impossible.
    Jagger they called him.I mean his mom and dad actually named him Jagger. He was lucky to be born in a family were they lived and breathed rock. Close to my family before they decided to be brain washed by society.
      I felt kinda unworthy since time didn't really stop or at least slowed down when I saw him,like it does in movies. We walked pass each other so fast that I had to check  to make sure I wasn't running. I've known Jagger for a while now, as we live in the same neighborhood. He always drinks his cooffe in the little caffe under my house, so we had plenty of time to eye each other. I hadn't really notice his interest in me, since the day I left for holiday that one summer. Wearing rather revealing clothes, the little rockstar saw that I had grown a lot over the winter. Or perhaps my clothing preference had developed. Either way I could tell I had enter his wish-list. And I hoped I wouldn't leave for a little while.
     I didn't see him later that day. Or later that week. Before then, when I didn't really care,I would see him regularly. Now that I wanted to find Jagger, he disappeared. Just as any other teenage girl would, I turned to my best friend for help. And my best friend, is the best friend ever. With less then 10 texts, Silver found out the bar where Society's Sons, Jagger's band, was playing the next weekend. And it was set. My girl clique had a mission once again, and I was looking forward to it.