Heartbroken and lonely, Lola is forced to spend her nights cuddling her cold, squished pillow. With the help of her best friend, Annalise, she finds a service offering the thing she needs most, cuddles. Upon obtaining the service, Lola is in for mor...
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Chapter Twelve
If I close my eyes and think hard enough, I can feel the soft texture of the paper contract under the tips of my fingers. I can imagine my heart racing as I think about the possibilities this will bring me, the sense of freedom and excitement for a fresh beginning. If I think long enough . . . I remember where I am, stuck across the road.
The tall building known as the record label feels like a gigantic monster staring me down. If I move, it'll leap forwards and swallow me whole. I can't walk, I can't move, I'm just, suck. I wanted to move, my whole body screamed for me to move . . . but I just remained the same.
My mind has a billion thoughts racing through about everything and anything. My brain screamed at myself to get moving, to stop being that pathetic girl who makes too many excuses on the sidewalk and to just bite the bullet. I couldn't keep making more and more excuses until the point where there was nothing left . . . I didn't want to be that girl.
Yet, here I am, losing a fight for control I couldn't seem to gain.
I couldn't stand on the sidewalk forever, it's getting cold. The hair on my arms stands attentive as the cold wind nips and bites at my exposed skin. I hate the feeling of my nose being cold, yet right now, it was like ice attached to my face. I couldn't wait forever, yet I seemed to be.
My videos weren't that popular, nothing extravagant. So, I certainly couldn't expect them to wait forever. I wasn't important that everything was worth throwing aside. I was no Taylor Swift . . . I wasn't worth fighting for or even waiting.
Jason knew I wasn't worth the wait or even the effort to make me shine like polished silver. If I kept waiting or gave the record label time to mull over their decision, perhaps they'd learn the harsh truth of the situation, I wasn't anything spectacular.
Oh gosh, I really couldn't keep doing this to myself. The pity party ping pong ball that jumped between my feelings was out again. I'm tired of chasing it all over the place, it's exhausting. Dealing with how I feel is like a full-time occupation most of the time. Right now, I want to switch them off and get rid of them.
The one thing I loved about writing music is that it's like you can get rid of your emotion. Somehow, writing felt like pouring a bottle of water out – instead of water leaking from the content, it was the emotion flowing through my system.
When I wrote about my feelings on paper, it seemed to hurt less. I could grab the piece of paper and file those feeling away for another moment of time. Sure, there was a numb feeling subsiding inside of me, but it beat having to feel sometimes.
I told myself I owed it, so I should do this. I'm throwing that stupid ping pong ball across the road so that I can chase it down and dance with victory, as I prove myself wrong. So, here goes nothing!
