you were in the beatles, as another guitarist, yet at times you couldn’t help but feel left out, or out of place. you were the only girl, and sometimes they’d make jokes you wouldn’t understand, go out without telling you, small things like that.

now, obviously they didn’t mean to do these things, but they still did, and it hurt. they all loved you, but they just didn’t treat you well enough.

another thing they would do, is talk over you or not listen to you. and that was happening right now.

the five of you were sharing a room in the hotel you were staying in for a few weeks. george was laying on his shared bed with ringo, while paul and john sat on the sofa, and you sat on your own bed. you were all talking about upcoming shows and performances, or, well, they were. you had tried joining in, but they didn’t realise you were talking, or, they just didn’t care. you didn’t know which one.