"You can't always get what you want." I sang, angrily strumming my guitar, causing people to swiftly walk by with their heads down. I'm used to this by now. It's been weeks since anybody has looked me in the eye, let alone drop any loose change in my guitar case.
I sat down on the curb and stopped playing. I can't complain, I did this to myself. Running away at thirteen to try to "make it" in Los Angeles, I've hardly got by. Selling myself for prostitution to get meals, clothing, and a place to stay.
But that was then. Now, I'm twenty-one and I am much smarter. I cut out meals for a week or so and bought myself a second-hand acoustic guitar. Now, here I sit on a curb on Sunset, hoping to make enough money to get by.
But, I have had no such luck…every now and then someone drops a ten in my case, good enough to buy myself lunch, or a new guitar string. A place to live? No.
"Are you going to play?" I heard a voice say. I looked up. It was a tall man with a hoodie on. He had the hood up, aviator sunglasses on his face. He repeated his question. "So?"
"Oh, yes." I said, a little excited. "Any requests?"
"Hmm…" he said. I wish I could look him in the eye. "Eh, just play what you want."
"Okay.." I replied. Putting the guitar strap around my shoulder, I began strumming the chords to 'Hey Soul Sister' by Train.
As I played, the tall man just stood and watched. He seemed to be analyzing.
At the last chord, he placed a crisp $50 bill in my case and began walking away.
"Hey, you!" I called after him, thoroughly surprised at his donation. "Wait!"
But he had already jogged off, his iPod blasting in his ears. How strange…but, hey, I'm not complaining.
Picking up my guitar case, I couldn't help but think about the man. Pocketing the $50, I walked down Sunset to find a new place to play.