Your alarm clock rings on the makeshift endtable next to your messy bed. The clock's ring ends with a thunk as it was knocked over by a tired teen. Rubbing your eyes, you look out the foggy window to see old and busted houses with old rusty cars on the driveway.
You hated this place, you LOATHE this place because you didn't like the fact that you couldnt walk down the sidewalk without having the insurance of a knife or several other people by your side for protection. Your job wasn't helping much either, making minimum wage working at the Burger Emporium.
You try to squeeze a good idea of how to make a decent living out of your head, but most of them require having enough money to leave your parent's house, and your parents never had that much money in the first place.
Peaking at your guitar, an old Sunburst Fender Stratocaster, gave you an idea. You only thought it was possible in your dreams, but after some thought you reconsidered that previous judgment.
Before you started your plan to start a rock band however, you decided that getting cleaned up was first prioraty at the moment. Looking in the mirror, you gazed at yourself, a...
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