Sunday, September 11, 2011

The Build Up

No matter how soft I played the strings, the standard tuning would always become undone and it bothered me so much. The rattling the headstock made was a minor auditory discomfort, but having to re-tune the strings every 5 minutes was really annoying. I don't know anything about how to stop the rattling, and yes, the strings were old- I could simply change the strings and problem number two would have been solved. However, if I can't fix both problems at once, then it wasn't going to happen.

It's December 6, 9:24am. The year is irrelevant to me, always has been. I group the events of this December day with the ones of previous December 6's if you get what I mean. Every day is a day to remember. However, I lost track of how old I am. 23? 24? 27? The number is only relevant when I have to respond. All I can remember about my earlier days was an old picket fence facing me, I'm sitting under an orange tree. There was also a big turtle moving about. A fountain carved of volcanic rock. And then they came for me. I would never see my family again.

The life I had left, was spent in training. I don't feel like I need to know who they were. I'm not curious about what I left behind. That old white picket fence, the paint was flaking off. Maybe it was for the better, to leave that childhood prison behind. Now, I'm a man.

I'm a man on a mission.

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