~~~♡︎~~~
Octavia Wilson wasn't a known star of any variety, but despite that, she'd been going to the famed "Camp Rock" almost her entire life. She was often classified as 'book smart' instead of 'street smart.' She knew how to speak seven languages...
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 the windows and open blinds into Octavia's cabin. Her alarm blared, causing her eyes to flash open as she turned off the annoyingly loud alarm clock. She groaned, staring at the time, 5:45 AM before rolling onto the right side of her body, finally deciding to get up.
The brunette begrudgingly got up from her bed, stumbling to her closet. A few minutes of searching through her clothes tiredly, she picked out a white blouse that matched a red skirt she had. She changed into the outfit she picked out after a long shower, feeling extremely refreshed after it.
She raked her hands through her hair as she blow dried it. Once she was finally done, she grabbed her small spiral notebook and walked out of her cabin at around 6:30, desperately wanting to get a few minutes of peace and quiet to herself.
The brunette walked into the mess hall, looking around before she quickly stepped towards the piano. She may not have liked singing or playing anything in front of people, but she did want to make sure she still had certain talents. She made sure to play a different instrument and sing a different song every week.
Repetition was a powerful thing when playing an instrument. She liked to remind herself what she was taught, something more than just foreign languages and algebraic equations.
Octavia inhaled deeply, placing the pads of her fingers on the keys of the piano, beginning to slowly play it before she started to sing.
Counting days, counting days
Since my love up and got lost on me
And every breath that I've been takin'
Since you left feels like a waste on me
No one saw the part of her she put into her music, the part of her that wasn't a people pleasing perfectionist. The part of her that had fallen apart so long ago, she doesn't bother to notice anymore.
She looked up from her lyrics, continuing the rhythm of the tune as she stared out the window, watching the sun slowly rise.
I've been holding on to hope
That you'll come back when you can find some peace
