Behind Blue Eyes

From now on, you can just assume all of this is original material. I don't feel like writing copyright on everything I post.

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Richard was laying on his back in his bed, staring at the posters that had been taped to his ceiling for four years or more.

Pete Townshend stared back at him with blue eyes. The Clash was leather clad and ready to rock. He stared down the barrel of Han Solo's blaster and into the faces of four lads from Liverpool.

He wondered if he would ever be the kind of person teens stared at while they contemplated their lives.

Contemplated their lives like he was now.

He glanced at the acoustic guitar that he had bought the day he turned sixteen three years ago. It was beaten up now, and covered in stickers and one fake mustache. He could play all sorts of covers and even a few of his own original songs.

But, would he ever pose with that guitar for a photographer? Would anyone ever want to listen to him who didn't know him since he was ten?

All Richard had ever wanted was to be a musician, but, sometimes he doubted if he could ever make it. Sure, Josh played bass pretty well and Freddy could play the drums, but, did they have what it took to make it big?

Richard turned off the light and tried to sleep, but, even through the darkness he could see Pete's eyes staring at him. Telling him something.

But what?