I am almost nineteen years old and I am sick of many things
Like the way the neighbor's dog barks at me when I get home
or how it always rain on New Year's Eve
never being able to find a bra that fits me right
terrible endings of good novels
being expected to know about things I have no interest in
having to wear shoes in the summer time
the girl in my class who always rolls her eyes at the clothes I'm wearing
annoying, catchy songs that get stuck in my head
feeling sad on Sunday evenings
friends that don't text back
people who talk about calories during meals
and the way my History teacher always pronounces my name wrong

But someday I'll be 100 years old
(and you'll be 102)
And I will never get sick of the way
your eyes light up when you wake up next to me
and kiss my chapped lips
and mumble, "Good morning." 

trouble

I woke up with the sound of your voice and my eyes opened in the dark. I was so used to seeing you in my dreams that I wasn't scared until I heard it again. I walked to my window and saw you in the yellow street light, looking up at me. You waved excitedly and I went downstairs to let you in, to see what you wanted at 4:23 in the morning. 
I opened the door and the smell of beer rised off of your clothes as you hugged me. 
"Okay, hi, what's up?" I asked, standing in the kitchen in my pijamas, my bare feet on the linoleum. 
"I had to see you!" you slurred. I kept looking at you, wondering how it was possible for someone to look so beautiful under the awkward kitchen lights. 
"So, I was out wih my friends - "
"Drinking, clearly," I interrupted.
You just grinned. "And I realized that I really, really like you and you're so great and cool and different from the other girls."
"Right. Like your girlfriend."
You blushed momentarily then nodded. "She's alright, I guess, but she's not like you, Olivia."
My heart thumped against my chest and sighed. "I think it's time you went home now. Some of us do have school in the morning." 
"I know, yeah, I just really wanted you to know what I felt, okay?" 
I nodded and you pressed your lips to mine, even though my mouth tasted like sleep and yours like beer. You kissed me long enough to awaken the butterflies in my stomach and then you stumbled gracefully (only you could manage to look so graceful while drunk) out of my house and I returned to my bed. 
Tucked between my pillows, a movie of our past four months together (would that be the right word to describe us?) played in my head and tonight, I realized, had been the first time you had come to me and not the other way around. I fell asleep with a dumb smile still plastered to my face.

---

When I walked into Melanie's house for her pool party, I knew you'd be there with your crowd (and your girlfriend, of course.) It's okay, I mean, I was there with my clan as well. Strangely, Melanie is the sort of person who is so nice and gets along with everybody that various cliques of our grade merged together under her roof (and the alcohol definitely made more people willing to show up.) It was just refreshing to see you outside of school (where we didn't - couldn't, I guess - talk) and our usual hidden, meeting spots (where we did a lot more than talk.) 
I kept you on my radar that day, constantly aware of you, despite the large number of other half-naked teenagers there. Eventually, the party dwindled down and while I was waiting alone for my dad to pick me up, I saw an opportunity to talk to you as you headed into the kitchen. I sneaked in after you and closed the door behind me. You were bent over, looking for something in the fridge, the stale lighting making it possible for me to see you. 
"Hey."
"Hi," you said, not looking at me.
"So, how'd you like the party?"
"Eh, Melanie's parties are usually always the same."
"Oh, I wouldn't really know, this is the first one of these I go to."
"Yeah, you seemed like you were having fun," you commented, still looking straight ahead. 
"So do you need any help, or...?" I asked, after an awkward pause.
"I actually don't. You know, I'd just prefer if you didn't talk to me at all."
I blinked, startled by the sharpness in your voice. Only then did I realize that one of your friends was sitting at the kitchen table, flirting with a cheerleader on his lap. Oh. I stalked out, walking towards the gate, pretending that our little exchange (that I had spent all day looking forwards to. Dumb dumb dumb) hadn't left me on the verge of tears. A few minutes later, you ducked out of the house and found me. 
"Are you here to be rude to me again?" I stated. You pulled my crossed arms away, wrapping yours around me, your bare skin warm and pulled me close to you. This was your way of apologizing, I had learned. 
"You know, you can't just toss me around like that. Don't fluctuate, pick whether you want to be always nice or always mean to me."
You nodded and then kissed my forehead and then the tip of my nose. "It's just - you know how it is."
I did know - your girlfriend, my friends, your friends, dumb high school drama. I knew how it was and I was tired of it. 
"I can make it up to you," you offered, pulling me closer. "My parents are going out of town this weekend, so come over on Friday after practice and stay as long as you want." 
I knew I was dumb to be excited by this, flattered even, but - sigh - I was. At that moment, I heard a car beep and I knew it was my cue to leave.
"I'll call you later," you whispered, before kissing me on my favorite spot on my neck. And then you walked towards the house and you were gone.

----

I lay on the stripy comforter on your bed and counted the glow in the dark stars stuck onto your ceiling. Seventeen stars. You kissed my hip bones then, your hand on the insides of my thigh. 
"You're the one I like the most, you know," you mumbled, your voice tickling my skin. At the moment, I felt so completely foolish and enamored by you. Yes, I know. 

Ezra

The first boy I ever kissed had tattoos on his hands. When he leaned in to touch his lips to mine, his hand rested on my back and I remember thinking about the ink seeping through my clothes and resting on my own bare skin. His mouth tasted like beer and, in the midst of my infatuation, I found it charming. For the rest of the night, we spent it using our mouths, either to speak or kiss. 

He showed me how to blow cigarette smoke in a perfect circle and I taught him how to say 'I love you' in foreign languages and as I watched the vocalization of true love roll off his tongue like candy, like they meant nothing, I felt a surge of joy that this was the boy I was sitting with on a pale September night. After the playlist started to repeat itself - as much as I may like 'Just Like Heaven', I don't need to listen to it three times in one night - I told him I was going to leave and after receiving a flurry of kisses and slurred words of 'I loved meeting you' and 'Let's do this again sometime', I walked out the door. 

Three short weeks later, I heard the news, or better yet, overheard it, since I was walking to class when I heard a group of girls talking about it. He was dead. I stopped moving, perplexed. I skipped my Religion class that afternoon and sat on the swings of an empty playground, drowning in my thoughts, unsure of what to do. Was I meant to go to the funeral? Should I wear black? Would his close friends notice me and wonder who I was?

I sat by myself until the sun hid behind the hills. Eventually, I did go to the funeral and I stood back, feeling out of place and lost. After the mourners started to peel away to their cars, speaking in hushed tones,  I came closer. Looking down at the numerous wreath of flowers covering the grave, I thought about his face, his laughter, his eyes, and how all of the things that made him were gone. 

I thought about the tattoos on his hands and wished that that night, they had actually jumped onto my skin so that I'd always have a secret part of him with me. I was interrupted by a hand on my shoulder, presumably belonging to his father (they had the same eyes.) 

"Did you know him very well?" he asked, his voice kind and heavy with sorrow. 

I looked up, blinking a few tears away. "I wish I had." I really wish I had. 

----

Just something I wrote recently. 

"Stop making that face at me." You don't know what face I'm talking about. I called you today while I was walking home and I was upset and on the verge of tears and I had to hear your voice to distract me from the frustration building up inside of my chest and squeezing my lungs and you answered and I could clearly see you sitting on the bed surrounded by clothes you still had to pack and you didn't ask why my voice was shakey (I wouldnt've said anything, anyways). I got home and pretended to be okay and managed until you put your arms around me and I broke down and you stroked my hair while we stood in the bathroom doorway and told me that it was okay to cry and you didn't ask me what was wrong and you didn't complain when my mascara got on your white shirt and then you talked to me about silly things until I calmed down. I'm listening to quiet songs that remind me of you even though I don't know if you know these songs and tears are rolling down my cheeks and I keep glancing at the clock but who cares I'm not going to sleep anytime soon anyways and this afternoon I woke up from my nap and forget for a second that you had left and looked around my room, expecting to find you lying on your back on my bed and reading your Neil Gaiman book. I'm going to lie down in bed tonight and I won't wake up in the middle of the night with you coming in and kissing my limbs while I'm half asleep and holding my arms and asking me if I'm okay because my heart is beating fast and yes yes I'm okay I am alive and I am completely in love with you. I looked down at your hands interlocked with both of mine (because there are occasions when holding just one of your hands isn't enough) while we were waiting in the sun and I kept looking because I wanted so badly to remember everything, every single moment and how your lips were cold from drinking a milkshake and you hadn't changed shirts and the outsides of our thighs touching and the voice in the back of my head reminded me how lucky I am to have spent these days with you and how we've been doing this for almost three years and saying good-bye to you still hasn't gotten easier. I don't think it ever will get easy, honestly.

He rode up on his bike to where I was sitting and asked me in an accent different than mine why my glasses were shaped funny. I pushed my lips against each other and glared at him from behind the thick glass. He squinted as the sun hit his dark face and blinked at me. 

"I like them like this," I answered, setting my book next to me. 

He shrugged and rode away while the lion tattoo on his back bared its white teeth at me. That was the first time we spoke. With my legs turning freckly in the May sun, there was no way I could've know that in two short weeks I'd be kissing his bare skin and digging my nails into his skin in the hushed silence of his basement where he had invited me to casually watch his favorite documentary with him. And if I didn't know that, I most certainly didn't know that that second when I was engrossed in the book my older sister had given to me as a birthday present before being interrupted by a boy with a gap between his front teeth, that second would be last happy moment in my life. 

------


Sometimes I write and sometimes it's not very good but sometimes I end up posting it. 

Drowning, drowning, drowning, drowning.

If it's not too much of a bother, sir, could you please pull me up?

Your finger tips feel like ice on my skin and you mumble apologies when I shiver

It's alright, they're actually caused by how familiar this feels

And I know there are still orange lipstick marks on your bones

Your voice on the phone last night made me cry

And you heard my voice trembling on the other side and you didn't ask why

To be honest, I wouldn't be able to answer you accurately

You learned lovely sentences in foreign languages and whispered them into my braided hair

I helped you dye your hair green in my cracked bathtub and you pretended to like it

The first enjoyable birthday I had was when you bought me cupcakes and a plastic crown

You were the one that noticed how green my eyes turn when I cry

and I was the one who showed you your favorite song and wrote the lyrics on your skin

(Not that any of that would make a difference now)

I shut my eyes and kissed you, despite the angry protests creating turmoil in my head.

-

I don't really know what this is. I guess I've just been wanting to write something for a while now.

"I've missed you." The room was dark and the light from the kitchen poured in through the door. I didn't reply and let your words hang in the air, bouncing against the walls, echoing through my head. Your hair stuck to your flushed face and you shifted so that you could kiss my forehead before going to take a shower. You say such pretty words but I've heard them all before.

-

Hi guys, remember when I could actually write good things? Yeah, not really so much.

It was my first day back at school today. It's so cold here, I'm wearing my recently-acquired Uggs in the house. Today was the first time in three weeks that I've worn pants. I'm waiting for my episode of Skins to load.

This city is depressing.

In case you didn't already know

You sat on my window sill, laughing in that way that you did, with all of your teeth showing and I didn't have to kiss you to know that your lips tasted like cigarettes. You always made me laugh so much, looking at the pictures taped above my sorry excuse for a bed still make me smile. You used to lie under the covers, kicking them up while I made us both tea at 4 AM because you couldn't sleep (not that I minded your insomnia, it kept me away from my nightmares.) I remember when you used to poke me out of my slumbers because you felt like dancing or simply because you didn't like being the only person awake in our creaky apartment.

"Sometimes," you whispered, your words tickling my earlobe. "I feel like I'm the only person in the world - y'know, when I'm awake like this. And it kinda scares me but in a weird way, it also feels nice being this alone so then I just wake you up so you can feel like this with me."

I remember how all the books sitting on your bookshelf were crinkly because you liked reading in the bathtub and you'd get distracted and drop the books in the water. When we went on the occasional road trip, you would haul half of your body out of the car and just scream; your voice was swallowed by the night air and lost along the highway.

In those five years of us, you were the best thing that happened to me. You sat by me while I struggled through endless periods of writer's block, you wore your velvet black dress (and looked so lovely) and held my hand at my grandmother's funeral, you listened to me complain and baked me cookies after a long day of work. You were my starlight through all those years, did you know that? I can't remember now if I ever actually told you.

I used to sit in your favorite chair and listen to you rehearse for your auditions, I sat in the front row of all yours plays, clutching a bouquet of your favorite flowers (lilies, by the way) and watching you on that stage, with your eyes all lit up, I have never been prouder.

You sat on the kitchen counter, your slender legs swinging and your feet bumping against the shelves below, as I attempted to make us Mexican food for our Valentine's dinner and how you didn't mind when I burned the food and we ended up eating pizza on the roof of your building. I remember how we spent New Year's together when we first started dating and your eyelids were covered in glitter and you squealed as the first fireworks exploded in the sky above us.

We made so many plans, they seem so silly now. Four kids, you had decided, two boys and two girls, all adopted. Along the years, we did have a few pets; nothing too much, some fish, a couple of turtles, a chubby hamster who used to sneak out of its cage. When our fourth fish died, you laughed, "Babe, we're going to be such awful parents!"

I remember all our Sundays, how we read and watched sitcoms and that funny sound you made when you slept curled up against me. I remember the way you would scrunch up your nose when you felt like crying and those jeans shorts you wore every single day in the summer until they fell apart. It's weird how many things remind me of you: chocolate-covered raisins, Doc Martens, that Chinese place we used to go on Thursdays, Woody Allen movies, purple mascara, giraffes, sparklers and (especially) those songs that you put on my iPod without me knowing about them.

If you read this right now, you'd scold me for only remembering the good parts; I don't. I remember the times I didn't sleep at home with you or the week we didn't talk to each other or the time you slapped me - I do remember, it's just that those times didn't matter as much because in the end, it was alright, we always had each other. I know you so well, even now, I know how you take your coffee, or how you paint your nails according to your mood, how your fingers would curl around mine when you slept, or that place on your hip that's especially ticklist, or that spot behind your ears where you liked being kissed.

So, you know, you may have made the decision to end it all and act like it never happened, but it did. I remember the way your blue eyes filled up with tears when you told me you couldn't do this anymore, how your lips smelt like cinammon when you kissed my cheek for the last time, the way your curls bounced against your pale shoulders as you walked away.

So you can act like nothing ever happened between us, but I remember every kiss, nap on our creaky old couch, movie watched together, last night glass of wine, phone call, moan in our quiet apartment, cuddle, hand held in the dark, silly fight, meals shared and every moment where we felt infinite. I just honestly hope that you remember that no one will ever love you as much as I did and as I still do.

--

I rarely write and then when I do, I don't like it much.

This was inspired by you, by the way.

You wanted to take me to the aquarium. I nodded, even though the idea terrified me. Maybe it was the tunnels where you looked up and could see fish around you or the louds crowds in there or how claustrophobic it was in there. Nonetheless, I let you hold my sweaty hand and pull me through, telling me childhood anecdotes and sharing interesting information about the fish there.

"Let's go see the otters, they're my absolute favorite!" you said, turning back at me, pulling me through the group of five-year olds there on a school trip. I could feel something pressing down on my lungs, the air escaping from my body.

I gasped helplessly, but you couldn't hear me. I squeezed your hand, hoping you would turn around, but you continued pulling me through the dark.

I wrapped my skinny arms around my shivering frame while you continued blabbering about the time so and so went with you to the zoo and something or other happened and how it was hilarious.

I had no choice but to suffocate.

-

I don't know.

She jiggled her foot absent-mindedly, glancing down at her watch. It wasn't like she was late to go somewhere but she was getting impatient waiting. Besides a sleeping dog, the platform was empty. She cursed herself for telling her boss she wouldn't mind working late. I mean, the work's fine, it kept her distracted from the things that kept her up at night, she just didn't like the empty subway rides home. She pulled out the book she was reading from her oversized grey bag, her fingers tracing the intricate drawings on the purple cover. Soon, she was absorbed in the story and was startled when she heard a voice.

"Are you liking it?"

She looked up. Sitting on the other side, was a guy wearing a checkered shirt, black jeans, scuffed combat boots. He pointed to the same book with the purple cover with drawings on it sitting on his lap. She glanced at him, uneasily. She was the kind of guy her best friend Alexys would be crazy for, but he wasn't really her type. I mean, she wasn't even sure she had a type. After what that asshole did, she had buried herself in her work and men seemed like something trivial. She squinted her eyes - reminding her that she really did have to find time to go to the eye doctor this week - and looked at him. He wasn't bad at all. Despite the eyebrow piercing, his face has this boyish fun to it that attracted her. He continued looking at her expectantly and she remembered he has asked her something.

"Yeah, it's alright," she stuttered. He grinned at her and stood up. He looked both ways and jumped into the gap where the subways rode. She gasped, worried. He ran quickly, his feet moving swiftly to not trip over the track. He scrambled over the edge and stood before her, laughing nervously.

"Where are you?" he asked, motioning to the book still perched on top of her bag. As he continued talking to her about the book, she slowly let her guard down. She observed him as they talked, the way he motioned with his hands when he was enthusiastic and how his voice changed when he started talking about characters he didn't like. She had known him for the short time span of 10 minutes and she already liked him. The butterflies that had been sleeping in her stomach for the past 6 months woke up now.

Eventually, the subway shuddered to a halt in front of them and they boarded it together, their voices echoing through the empty spaces. They stood up, ignoring all the vacant seats, their bodies lurching together whenever the subway made a curve. As he told her about what kind of movies and TV shows he liked, she was surprised by how different he was from her and how she didn't mind at all. She had spent 7 years of her life completely in love with a guy who was exactly like her and what good did it to for her? She was a wreck when his predictable little self wrecked her heart. She pushed him far out of her mind as the lovely person in front of her told her enthusiastically how he thought John Frusciante was the most bad-ass guitarrist of all times. Knowing little about guitarrists, she nodded and looked up at him, noticing the light blond stuble covering his jaw. Finally, they reached her stop. She shuffled out and he followed her, telling her that was where he got off. They walked up the stairs, their hands swinging next to each other and every so often, brushing against each other awkwardly. When they reached the top of the stairs, she jerked her head towards the left.

"I'm that way," she said, not wanting him to leave.

He smiled at her. "I'll walk you there, okay?"

She nodded and they continued as they shared silly childhood anecdotes. She was surprised with how completely at ease she was with him, how she started telling him things her close friends didn't know. They strolled down the street as cars zoomed past them and then they were in front of her house.

"Well, this is me," she said.

"Wait, before you go up, I want to show you a song!" he said, pulling his iPod out of his pocket. He handed her the headphones and as soon as she slid them in, a soft strumming filled her ears.

She smiled. "I don't know this song."

"You don't? It's really famous! Well, listen, it's really nice."

They stood there, sort of swaying to the music. He put his hands on her waist during the chorus and kissed her . The song they were listening to ended and another song she didn't recognize started playing, although the music wasn't what she was paying attention to. She had expected groping hands, tugging of clothes but he didn't do any of that. He just pulled her close and kissed her like that was the only thing he wanted in the world, to be kissing her in front of the door step while his favorite songs played. He stopped and smiled, their noses touching.

"Hey, I like you," he said quietly. She smiled and kissed him. Yeah, she liked him too.

-

Have I mentioned how much I love subways before?

"Hey, why are you crying?"

"It's just this song. Whenever I listen to it, it makes my heart swell with all this emotion in the lyrics and the memories of all the times I've listened to this song, y'know?"

"Then stop listening to it if it makes you cry!"

"No, no, you don't get it. I mean, it's a good kind of sad. Whenever I listen to this song, it's like it's okay to be sad. It just makes me know that I am alive, it makes me so aware of everything I'm feeling. I know, it sounds stupid to have to cry in my room to know that I'm alive but there's not enough things that make me feel like that."

-

asuhdsahdjashdaisudh I don't even know.

First lines of unfinished poems/stories.

The moths danced around the shower as the warm water washed away the chaos and bad decisions of the past night.

I hated that song, but it sounded beautiful when you sang it with your eyes closed and your hair in your face.

PS: I thought of these a couple of days ago but then wasn't inspired enough to actually write something. Meh.

I woke up with a start, sitting up in bed. I sat there in my oversized shirt ad whie underwear, listening close to the sounds of the empty house. I waited a few minutes then lay back down, letting my muscles relax. I drifted off to sleep, not quite shaking off the feeling that someone else was in the house When I woke u a couple of hours later, he was standing there. I blinked at him, perplexed, wondering if this was just something m weary mind had imagined. He sat down on the edge of my bed, the springs squealing under his weight. We regarded each other in the darkness of the room, unsure of what to do. I had spent sleepless nights wondering what you were doing, hoping he'd clamber through my window and kiss me like he used to. It had been a rough couple of months after you had decided that I was "too much to handle", as you so kindly put it, and left. It wasn't like he had just stopped calling, he literally disappeared. One sunny afternoon, I stopped by his apartment to drop off a box of T-shirts, DVDs, magazines and other random things he had left at my house. His landlord told me that you had left suddenly and was surprised that I didn't know where you had gone. Yeah, I was surprised too. I think it was soon after I had heard that he was gone that I fell into a downward spiral. I kept convincing myself that if I did things I normally wouldn't do, he'd come back. I stopped eating, telling myself that if I were skinnier and prettier, he'd come back. I took out my pain on my skin with the aid of my trusty razor hidden inside my old yearbooks. I did everything I could have done to have make him come back, to show him how wrecked I was without him. He never came. Which is why the image of his skinny body on my bed sent my thoughts into a turmoil. Without saying anything, I scooted over, throwing back the covers, my eyes giving him permission to get in with me, to press his warm body aginst mine, to hold me in his arms. You peeled off your jacked and sweather and then your jeans and rested your body against mine in your striped underwear. We lay there in silence, staring at the ceiling. That's when I heard him crying. I glanced over and he was sobbing, his large hands pressed against his face. I huddled close to his shaking body, attempting to offer some comfort. He pulled me close to his chest and your warm arms enveloped me. I put my hands in your hair and before I even realized it, tears were streaming down my own cheeks. He kept apologizing, his strangled words breaking my already fragile heart. We lay there, our bodies tangled, our tears mixing together. I tiled my chin up and kissed your chin, your stubble tickling me. You kissed my lips slowly then lifted up my arms to kiss the scars that decorated my wrists.

"You're going to be okay, baby. I'm not going anywhere this time," he whispered into my hair.

And this time I knew you really did mean it.

-

Productive history class (?).

As her feet hit the cold pavement, she realized that she had forgot to even put on shoes. She didn't care, she had to keep moving. The night was silent, all she could hear were her choked sobs and the sound of her feet pounding quickly against the ciment. She was sitting in front of the computer when he told her and suddenly the room felt too small, the house felt too small, this town felt to small.

She couldn't believe what he had done.

He had promised her he wouldn't.

That son of a bitch, he had promised.

She kept running.

She thought to herself, "If I'm running, I can't think. And if I can't think, then I can't cry."

Pushing herself farther, her knees starting to ache, her body threatened to give up on her.

She wouldn't give up on her. Just a little farther, just a little farther.

She ran until her feet stopped aching and her bare arms became numb.

Suddenly, she couldn't feel the floor beneath her and she tumbled down into the darkness.

That's what you get when you let your heart win.

-

I wish I could actually write a book or even just a longer story as opposed to these little pieces of whatever. Sorry for the Paramore thing at the end, it just seemed fitting.

Sam woke up to the sound of the rain pitter-pattering on the rickety old roof. His eyes opened and he stared into the small one room house in the middle of nowhere. Blurry dots flew into his line of vision and he stretched his long arms over his head, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room. He threw one arm carelessly to the side, hoping it would collide with the soft body of his girlfriend, sleeping softly next to him, curled up in a ball like she always slept. She had gotten up already, apparently. He yawned and closed his eyes. Both of them had decided that they were going to spend the summer together and had driven up to his grandfather's little cottage in his beat-up old car. When they got there, the place lacked electricity and only had a carton of green suspicious milk in the fridge. Despite the lack of people around them, it had been a peaceful month, one of the best summers he'd had. They'd spent the days sleeping in the sun or swimming in the lake out back or kissing on the worn-out mattress they'd brought and not wearing enough clothes. As soon as he rolled over, Audrey came running into the room, wearing only his stripy boxers. Her body was covered in a thin sheen of water and rain dripped from her hair. She smiled broadly at him.

"Hey, babe. Come outside, it's so nice out there!" she said, twirling around. He smiled at her lazily. He threw back the covers, inviting her in. She cocked an eyebrow at him then burst out laughing. She pulled off the soaking wet boxers and threw them in the opposite direction and jumped under the covers.

"Hey silly, you're wearing too much clothes!" Audrey said giddily, showering him with wet kisses and tickling his stomach. She laid down on his chest and he tousled her wet hair with his wide fingers. She pulled his wrists to her and kissed the thin scars etched onto his skin. She was beautiful, in everything that she did, and she was his. Indeed, it had been an amazing summer.

-

I thought of this when I was at the beach and there was a freak storm and I had to walk back to the apartment in the pouring rain. Kind of went into a totally different direction, nbd. Alrighty, too much blogging and not enough sleep. Night night, lovelies. :)

PS: Sticking with Arial now since I used Lucida Grande before and on some computers it looked totally different from the way I wanted it to look like.

She walked slowly into the bathroom, her size 38 feet coming in contact with the cold blue floor. Why were bathroom surfaces always so cold? They reminded her of hospitals. She shrugged off her oversized purple robe where it fell to a puddle near her feet. She lowered herself into the bathtub, her body obscured from view by way too many bubbles. With one dry finger, she poked her iPod, filling her bathroom with Katy Perry's voice. She sighed happily and rested her head on the edge of the tub, thankful that her boyfriend was working late. She could never relax when he was around; he was constantly following her around like a puppy, not understanding that she needed alone time and threatening to break up with her when she told him to back off. Sure, she didn't particularly like him, but looking for a new boyfriend that could deal with her bitchy attitude was such a pain. Besides, the sex wasn't completely terrible. She pulled a slender leg out of the foam and examined her pink toes. It was in moments like this that she was truly happy, without having to explain herself to people, without having to make small talk, she could just be. Lying there naked and listening to music would be the most relaxing time she would have the entire week. She closed her eyes and probably fell asleep for a while. She woke up with the door slamming and opened her eyes, startled. It was probably her boyfriend. She rolled her eyes and pulled herself out of the water, the cold air causing her skin to break out in goosebumps, pausing the music. She pulled her long brown hair out the way and tied it in a messy bun and shrugged on her robe. The door cracked open a little and her boyfriend's goofy face appeared in the doorway.

He grinned. "Hey, babe."

She stifled a shudder and smiled weakly. She hated when he called her 'babe', it reminded her of that pig from children's movie. It was like he was imagining her rolling in the mud, filthy. He stepped into the bathroom, wrapping his long arms around her. He took a step back and examined the bath tub. Before he could open his mouth and make a stupid comment about how they should get in together, she bent down and grabbed the hammer that was under the sink. In one swift movement, she hit his head hard. He fell into the tub, splashing bubbles everywhere. She sat on the toilet, watching as the water slowly turned crimson. She turned the music back on and sauntered to her room, a bounce in her step.

-----

FINALLY.

PS: Don't look too into this. I'm not that psycho.

She twirled a curly hair around her fingers and looked up into his light brown eyes. He smiled warmly at her and wrapped his arms around her waist. People milled around them and the annoying intercom sound crackled and announced that all passengers on Flight 376 had to go to gate 5 immediately or something like that. 

"Nervous?" she asked him, her heart beating fast.

He grinned, showing off his white teeth. "Nah, I'm ready for this." 

She smiled nervously up at him. Even though he didn't say it was, 2 years was a pretty long time to stay away from home. From her. 

Her eyes welled up with tears and she pressed her face in his striped sweater. 

"Hey babe, don't cry, you know this isn't goodbye." 

But she knew it was. 

-

I'm bored. 

No title

She rolled over yawning, pulling the blanket over her bare shoulders.  He was still peacefully sleeping by her side, his usual smell of cigarettes and coffee and love filling his small orange apartment. She smiled at him and lay her head against his arm and he pulled her close. Her head reeled with these small acts of love; afterall, he had been the object of her undying affection since she had decided that boys didn't really have cooties. But the thought of how this didn't make any sense still confused her already flustered head. She had forever been the little sister to him, too young to go out with them, stuck at home playing with her toys while they had been out drinking. Something had changed that past summer, when she had spent a month with him and her brother in their rickety old beach house. It was falling apart, but it was on the beach and they're weren't picky. That summer, it was like he had forgotten their ten year age difference. She was worried about her junior year, he was worrying about his job. After telling her parents she was sleeping at a friend's house, spending half an hour trying to decide where to eat, settling for eating popcorn in the parking lot, stolen kisses in the back seat of the car and then taking it back to his apartment, that summer seemed like it was ages ago. She poked his chest gently with her freckled nose. 

"Why?" she whispered, her breath tickling him. 

He sighed sleepily, half-awake and answered, "Because I love you." 

-

It's just been a while since I've written anything worth reading. 

Rainbow

Him: Do you think souls have colors? 

Her: What? 

Him: Souls. Colors. 

Her: Like auras and crap? 

Him: Not really, souls are different from auras. 

Her: Are you high? 

Him: What am I doing with you? 

Her: Don't know. 

-

I should just go to sleep.