The morning sun shines through my paper thin blinds, and travels to my eyes. The first thing my eyes move to, is my guitar. In front of my bed. I haven't played it in months. I stopped for a mind splitting reason. I had no motivation. My mind turned to writing instead. Except there's one problem. I have nothing to write about.
Not that I am struggling to write about something... it's just, I want it to be about one subject. Life. But life is so complex, when yet at times it feels simple. I look back at my guitar, and it's color reminds me of Marley's eyes. An extremley random thought to think of, as I haven't really looked at my guitar for such a long time. I don't know. My mind keeps waning towards the idea of love. Could it possibly happen to me? There's nothing attractive about me. I'm really dark, with a dull color of curls on my head, with giant knit sweaters and combat boots. I'm a regular kid. Not the ones you see in movies that exclaim over how irregular and weird they are, I'm literally just regular.
I'll promise myself something; I'll try this love thing one more time. Maybe sparks are real. Maybe they're not.
