Uruha - Just, happy. - oneshot
Just, happy.
Uruha-centric; general musings; oneshot
You were not really able to see that cast of dark clouds hovering in your head the moment you stood on top of the world: rocking the metal bars and arrogantly pushing the edges with your studded boots, a guitar in hand, (they say) you were more than a stellar.
You didn't really realize that being on top of the world would also burden you the weight of varying expectations, pressure and criticism on your shoulder, when in truth--fuck fame and all--you just wanted to rock and roll.
You couldn't really believe your eyes when speculations about your true personality blazed like wild fire. Hot from one lip to another, when you thought there wasn't really special about you: a big guy who can play a guitar with a great band who can produce good music, backed-up by a major company.
To be frank, you thought that was as far as description goes about you.
And you couldn't really believe your ears when they say you like boys--who knows, maybe you do--but there wasn't really anybody but music that pleases you.
You could not really comprehend why people make you so glamorous and complicated--sometimes even perfect--when you're just as flawed and common as everybody else.
Hmm...You shrug, music sheets in front and a can of beer in hand, maybe that's just the way it is in this biz.
Note: And just because chromesynth responded too early. (Haha)
Anyhow, I figured this might be a bit offensive to some, but just my two-cents using fiction and Uruha.
Uruha-centric; general musings; oneshot
You were not really able to see that cast of dark clouds hovering in your head the moment you stood on top of the world: rocking the metal bars and arrogantly pushing the edges with your studded boots, a guitar in hand, (they say) you were more than a stellar.
You didn't really realize that being on top of the world would also burden you the weight of varying expectations, pressure and criticism on your shoulder, when in truth--fuck fame and all--you just wanted to rock and roll.
You couldn't really believe your eyes when speculations about your true personality blazed like wild fire. Hot from one lip to another, when you thought there wasn't really special about you: a big guy who can play a guitar with a great band who can produce good music, backed-up by a major company.
To be frank, you thought that was as far as description goes about you.
And you couldn't really believe your ears when they say you like boys--who knows, maybe you do--but there wasn't really anybody but music that pleases you.
You could not really comprehend why people make you so glamorous and complicated--sometimes even perfect--when you're just as flawed and common as everybody else.
Hmm...You shrug, music sheets in front and a can of beer in hand, maybe that's just the way it is in this biz.
Note: And just because chromesynth responded too early. (Haha)
Anyhow, I figured this might be a bit offensive to some, but just my two-cents using fiction and Uruha.