Loved Too Young

Chapter two

I didn't see him again after that day. Two weeks had gone by and everything was pretty normal. Well normal enough. It was just that my every waking thought was about him and I didn't understand it. I mean yeah I've loved him ever since I was a kid but this is different.

I don't know how to describe it.

It's weird.

I grab my ukulele from beside my backpack and pull towards me. I came to the park today to clear my head but nothing seems to be working. I start strumming some chords and pull out my notebook. I'll just write a song. I mean I haven't written one in forever and I have nothing better to do.

I think about what I want it to be about. And after a minute I know exactly what I want it to be about. The words start to flow and I swiftly scribble them down before I lose them and I start singing them while I play my ukulele.

Tell me something

Tell me something

You don't know nothing

Just pretend you do

I need something

Tell me something new

Choose your words cause

There's no antidote

For this curse, oh

What's it waiting for

Hate to hurt you just before I go

It was about Kevin, my Ex-boyfriend. We dated for a year but when I told him I wanted to go to New York to act he started becoming very toxic and rude and told me I was never gonna make it over and over again and the day before I left I broke up with him. I really liked him, I might have even been in love and I cried so much over him but in the end I knew that someone that was going to be so rude and degrading wasn't the one for me.

I continue on with the song and the lyrics pour out from my heart. Everything I've felt towards him just comes out and I laugh a little thinking about what he would do if I showed him this song.

Oh, tell me something I don't already know

Oh tell me something I don't already know

Charlotte saw me

Empty at the news

There's no water

Inside this swimming pool

Almost over

I've had enough of you

And I've been praying

Never did before

Understand Im

Talking to the walls

I've been praying

I stop singing.

I don't know what the next verse should be. I HATE writers block. If it's books, essays or songs, I don't care. I just hate it. You could be going and going and then suddenly you're out of ideas and you're just sitting there like an idiot.

 I think really hard but after a few minutes I give up and flop down on my blanket and look up at the snowy trees.

"Ever since New York?" I hear a voice say from behind me.