The broken strings of the guitar fill my head. Each note cries out to me in the loudest and most soul sinking way. Not a single note is in tune, but it matches perfectly with the voice attempting song.

Who is that man struggling to even keep the guitar in his hands? Whose voice is saturated in cheap whiskey and a six-pack of Bud Light?

Where is my dad beneath those bloodshot eyes?

And at nearly 21 years old, why do I still give a damn?

I need a place to sleep tonight.