The Only Hope For Me Is You

I woke up, groaning at the buzz emitting from my clock. I slammed my palm on my bedside table until I found the button that shut it up, before I got out of my warm, comfy bed and trudged to the shower. After washing and drying, I got dressed in my usual attire – skinny jeans, vans or converse, topped with a random band shirt that wasn’t too dirty – grabbed an apple for breakfast and my skateboard and headed for work.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Hey Marie!” I hollered to my colleague – aka my only friend – as I walked into my workplace. I probably had one of the best jobs ever. I worked in a music shop, kind of like a non-famous version of Hot Topic, and without the fangirls. It doesn’t sound impressive, I know, but it meant that I could listen to music whilst working and I didn’t have to hear the constant high-pitched screaming of pre-pubescent girls as they stumbled on a new item of band merch.

“Hey Sky, looking as beautiful as ever!” She chirped.

I scoffed – I was far from beautiful. In face I’m nothing special to look at really. I have blonde hair, which is neither short nor long, blue eyes and I’m an average height – 5’7”ish. The only thing about me that stands out is my music taste. People seem to have this crazy idea that just because I listen to music with electric guitars and the odd unclean vocals (or as they call it ‘screamo’) here and there, I’m either some sort of lost, troubled soul or I’m a Satanist – I know, crazy right?! I’m not really bothered by the stereotyping, I just don’t enjoy people trying to force their religious beliefs down my throat. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not disrespectful of religion in general, it’s just when their beliefs fill them with hate and discrimination and turn them into racist, homophobic arseholes.

“Earth to Skyler?”

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“You’re on register duty today and tomorrow, remember to smile!” she reminded, earning a slight chuckle from me.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The rest of the day went by without anything interesting happening – as per usual. At the end of my shift, I checked out and skated home since the weather was still pretty decent. I reached my front door and fumbled around with my keys and the lock until the wood swung on the hinges to let me in. I then ate tea and went to bed. Don’t complain about the lack of description here, I’m not narrating every second of every day for you, because that’d get boring. Yes, I love my job, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a boring life. Doing the same thing day in, day out isn’t much fun.

Notes

So for all you non-British readers out there, in case you didn't know...'arsehole' is another word for 'asshole'. XD

Peace out bitchachos...
~music-is-my-therapy x