Coming home, was extremely disappointing. I wasn’t going to fake the fact that I was upset. I was furious. Like really, I’m not a sore loser, usually. But I lost to kids half my age. It was upsetting. I thought coming home was what I needed. Well, that’s what I thought. Sure the first couple days were fun, coming home, talking up the experience of Las Vegas, but when it came down to it.. kids at my school really didn’t give a damn about me, they cared about the escape from the jail we call a school.
(Just one thing, school and me… we don’t really have a mutual relationship. I never truly “fit-in” in high school. I dropped a lot of my friends for music. Do I regret it? No. Do I miss having lots of friends? Yes. I mean, I have all I need now. and when I look back at it, i’m happy with my decision because I have the truest friends you can imagine. But they’re all out of the hell hole of Dighton Rehoboth Regional High School.)
I’m sure everyone was excited for me. I just thought I was going to gain more friends… except everyone thought I was being cocky and arrogant. Like, i said. Home isn’t where you live…. it’s where they understand you. And no one understands me in Dighton, MA. However, one place that always did understand and love me? Rick’s Music World Open Mic. My home away from home. If i could live anywhere, It’d be in that music store. Guitars hanging off the walls, keyboards all turned up with their lights like Christmas trees. It was my sanctuary. Rick’s Music World was my home. My humble abode. and they welcomed me home with open arms wider than you could imagine. I call ‘em my Thursday Night Family. The type of family that lights up when they hear a guitar or a beautiful voice. It’s a beautiful thing to be surrounded with people 10-80 years older than you and having more in common with them than kids in your chemistry class. Odd I know. But I always thought I was an old soul anyway.
