Music notes {Re-written}

The writer

The writer

He was a writer, had the power to create small pockets of universe to escape to whenever he wished to. He could go to underwater cities or explore space with aliens, anything was possible for him.

He often carried a small black notebook with a red band to close it shut, it could just barley fit in his back pocket but somehow he made it fit. He was always seen with a silver pen attached to the side, his name carved into the side.

The boy didn't really understand what he wrote, just spoke his mind in a place he knew no one could doubt him in. Because he had no were else to go, no one to talk to that would understand the gibberish and random thoughts he had like he did. Nobody else would ever understand him.

Nobody else could understand him.

He had more reasons to write as well, not just the thoughts and questions with no answers that filled his head. He wrote to forget the world around him. To him the world was broken and beaten down and to find beauty in it he would have to search further than he ever knew, on top of that he also hated how they missed everything. He details. like how the sky was golden in the first few September mornings and the wind and snow wrapped around the campus like a blanket in the early winter. The young boy didn't like the world too much and he hated everyone else in it for being so blind to something so amazingly beautiful.

{Edited}