She always wondered how she had ended up in such an annoying town. Everything was small, shops and homes only blocks away from each other. The schools were small, the roads were narrow. Everyone knew everyone, and therefore everyone knew everyone's business.
She had been in this town her entire life, only venturing out of it for special occasions, or to go shopping at the large mall that was an hour away. She had known everyone in her class since they were toddlers at the daycare center. Knowing people that long made it a little hard to become great friends with any of them.
And so she lived differently than all the others. Instead of going through the toils of the small town life, working at the few local stores, getting married, and growing old in the town, she rebelled. Her days spent at the small school building consisted of daydreams, and she refused to make friends with the few people in her class. She dreamed, nearly every day, of escaping. She hated this town, and everyone in it.
Somewhere along the way, during a hot and humid summer, and nights with the window open and the radio blaring, she became strongly attached to the music that blared from the old-fashioned radio. She ordered CD's, began to find her own rhythm. She wanted to recreate the glorious sounds that soothed her rebellious soul.
And one day, she found the old beat up six string at the local thrift shop. She didn't know how to play, but she knew for sure. It felt good in her hands, and she knew for the first time in her short sixteen years what she wanted.
And so, by and by, she knew that old beat up six string like the back of her hand, knew the chords, knew how it sounded when tuned just right. She started playing her own chords, started singing along. She started playing along to songs on the CD's, knowing them by heart song enough.
She knew, for sure, that she wanted to be out of this town, and playing music for others. She wanted out.
