Soulmates, sunflowers, hot air balloons, ballet, wildfire and music.
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EXCERPT:
"Why do you always call me sunflower?" She looks as though she's desperate for the answer, staring into my soul with so much sincerity in her words.
I smile to mysel...
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"I've been working on a little something, obviously you don't have to use it if you don't want to. But then if you don't, you're just being a prick because it's actually really fucking good." Mitch's voice draws me away from the emails I was going through on my computer as he walks into my living room.
He's got his guitar in one hand and I can only assume it's a solo he's been working on. We haven't exactly spoken much on the music front of things. We've both been so overwhelmed on other aspects of life.
Mine being very much involved with Evie and his trying to woo Sarah.
It's not like we don't have time to sort things for the new album. I haven't set a date on when I want to release it yet.
Which is probably for the best considering I only have a few random lyrics scribbled down.
I'd best not get ahead of myself, else I'd become even more stressed.
I still have the constant pressure to write something new though. Jeff has mentioned several times about wanting to hear some new ideas soon and I've assured him on multiple occasions that I have something.
I don't.
Every time I've said that has been a bold faced lie.
On the plus side, I now have a few starting points in my journal, I just need to work with them a little more and maybe Mitch might be able to help out.
"Lay it on me." I respond, closing my laptop and sliding it into the center of the coffee table, pushing myself up on the sofa, ready to hear what he's got to show me.
"Okay, just remember if you don't like it. You're wrong." He exclaims and I just roll my eyes waiting for him to get into it. But secretly I am a little excited to hear what he's got to show me.
"Get on with it, I'm sure poor bitch boy Mitch can take a little criticism." I pout sarcastically knowing I'm probably getting on his nerves.
I find my assumption being correct when he throws one of the cushions from the armchair at my head, but I'm swift enough to catch it. I burst out laughing at his little hissy fit.
"Fuck off H and just listen would you." He pushes my legs off of the coffee table and takes a seat next to me on the sofa.
He has my undivided attention as I watch him take a deep breath, glancing up at me quickly just to check I was actually paying attention.
His fingers delicately begin to strum the chords and from the first note I'm listening intently, being captivated from his talent.
