Saturday, July 26, 2003
Icecream Is Yummiest With Everything On It
Don't you agree?
Don't you agree?
The Kind Of Morning That Lasts All Afternoon
The girl wakes up, back hurting, does not open her eyes. He is the first thought in her head, and she smiles. She can't quite remember, but has the feeling he was in her dreams yet again. She rolls over on her right side and opens her eyes, he is the first thing she sees. She wishes he was there so it would be more than just a photograph she was staring at. She glances over at the clock and sees that it is after noon already. Finally she's been able to sleep in, bad habits that feel so good have returned. She sits up, kisses the photograph goodmorning, and gets out of bed. The girl grabs a pair of pajama pants and the shirt she wore yesterday and puts them on. Breakfast sounds like an extremely good idea this afternoon...
The girl wakes up, back hurting, does not open her eyes. He is the first thought in her head, and she smiles. She can't quite remember, but has the feeling he was in her dreams yet again. She rolls over on her right side and opens her eyes, he is the first thing she sees. She wishes he was there so it would be more than just a photograph she was staring at. She glances over at the clock and sees that it is after noon already. Finally she's been able to sleep in, bad habits that feel so good have returned. She sits up, kisses the photograph goodmorning, and gets out of bed. The girl grabs a pair of pajama pants and the shirt she wore yesterday and puts them on. Breakfast sounds like an extremely good idea this afternoon...
Lip Service
A kiss melts the heart of a girl surrounded by walls, and weakens the knees of someone who once stood so tall. Pride is what you had, baby girl, I'm what you have. It doesn't take a fantastic personality to have pride. It just takes, well, pride. She now realizes how impossible it is to stand tall all the time, never allowing yourself to fall back and lean on someone else. She kisses his ear, neck, and rests her head on his shoulder. She will allow him to stand tall for her, this girl has decided to take a break from holding up the world on her shoulders. Every cliche she used to believe silly is now a reality. His arms really were made to hold her. The-L-Word even has meaning. She's scared of what this means. The only difference now is that she is not afraid of being afraid anymore. She's got someone to hold her up while she's taking a break from being proud. She hopes they remain this way long enough to provide him with the same comfort as he has given her. Stupid old love songs feel real now, and yet again music takes on a whole new meaning for her. I want to wake up where you are. But I won't say anything at all. Do you want to get married, and run away? She wishes she was someone else, he wishes they were somewhere else. Privacy is often the key to a successful relationship. Yes, we were just talking while we were alone in the back room. The girl is content. Crush turns to lust turns to infatuation has become love. Then comes marriage, then comes mommie with a baby carriage, that's not all, that's not all... She's never felt this way about another human being as long as she's lived. One at the age of sixteen feels that those sixteen years were very long. A parent would say otherwise. She's been told, typically, to cherish this time. Living in memories is for suckers, this girl lives in the present. And right now, she is falling back onto her bed, day dreaming about the boy, craving pizza, and drifting off to sleep...
A kiss melts the heart of a girl surrounded by walls, and weakens the knees of someone who once stood so tall. Pride is what you had, baby girl, I'm what you have. It doesn't take a fantastic personality to have pride. It just takes, well, pride. She now realizes how impossible it is to stand tall all the time, never allowing yourself to fall back and lean on someone else. She kisses his ear, neck, and rests her head on his shoulder. She will allow him to stand tall for her, this girl has decided to take a break from holding up the world on her shoulders. Every cliche she used to believe silly is now a reality. His arms really were made to hold her. The-L-Word even has meaning. She's scared of what this means. The only difference now is that she is not afraid of being afraid anymore. She's got someone to hold her up while she's taking a break from being proud. She hopes they remain this way long enough to provide him with the same comfort as he has given her. Stupid old love songs feel real now, and yet again music takes on a whole new meaning for her. I want to wake up where you are. But I won't say anything at all. Do you want to get married, and run away? She wishes she was someone else, he wishes they were somewhere else. Privacy is often the key to a successful relationship. Yes, we were just talking while we were alone in the back room. The girl is content. Crush turns to lust turns to infatuation has become love. Then comes marriage, then comes mommie with a baby carriage, that's not all, that's not all... She's never felt this way about another human being as long as she's lived. One at the age of sixteen feels that those sixteen years were very long. A parent would say otherwise. She's been told, typically, to cherish this time. Living in memories is for suckers, this girl lives in the present. And right now, she is falling back onto her bed, day dreaming about the boy, craving pizza, and drifting off to sleep...
Wednesday, July 16, 2003
Soak Up The Sun
Standing infront of the same bathroom mirror as before, this time completely naked, the girl runs her index finger down her jawline, collar bone, the middle of her chest, and over to the fake tattoo on her hip that has now flaked beyond recognition. She grabs a tissue and some nail-polish remover and gently rubs off the remainder of her symbol of freedom. She turns around to a small pile of clothes, reaches for a pair of jeans, hesitates, and instead grabs her bathing suit. "It has been far too long," she says to herself, "since my skin has seen the sun." Several minutes later she's dragging out the lounge chair, hair in pigtails, retro sunglasses on, sunblock dabbed cutely on her nose. "This was the dumbest idea I've thought up all week...," she mumbles. "I mean, I really think I might be allergic to the sun! I could be committing suicide by laying out here today!" But she stays out, just as she had planned, because her mother tells her it ought to do her some good. (and if anything, will make her look less pasty...or, so her mother says) After she is officially tired of being hot and sweaty, she returns to the cool indoors, exhausted from fighting the urge to run from the heat. (If you can't stand the fire...) She goes in and looks in her mirror, curses, strips down, puts on her robe, and storms out of the bathroom. "Why must the only hint of color on my skin, other than when I blush, be freckles!!" When she was a little girl she was praised for their cuteness, and now they are just a nuisance. Though, her boyfriend apparently finds them adorable. "Oh well, I suppose I wouldn't make the greatest taned/bleach-blonde, anyway, with my level of intelligence." And it's not that she's conceited, she just knows that it takes very little intelligence to top that. After playing a quick, but almost flawless, Fur Elise on the piano, she heads to her room to play an hour or so of video games. It is, surely, the quickest way she can regain her loser-ness, after spending such a long time "tanning". At the thought of that word, she shudders, and sits down in front of her television. "Who needs real outdoors when I have so many different worlds simulated for me right here, minus the bugs and the sunburns? Gosh, those pretty-people are silly."
Standing infront of the same bathroom mirror as before, this time completely naked, the girl runs her index finger down her jawline, collar bone, the middle of her chest, and over to the fake tattoo on her hip that has now flaked beyond recognition. She grabs a tissue and some nail-polish remover and gently rubs off the remainder of her symbol of freedom. She turns around to a small pile of clothes, reaches for a pair of jeans, hesitates, and instead grabs her bathing suit. "It has been far too long," she says to herself, "since my skin has seen the sun." Several minutes later she's dragging out the lounge chair, hair in pigtails, retro sunglasses on, sunblock dabbed cutely on her nose. "This was the dumbest idea I've thought up all week...," she mumbles. "I mean, I really think I might be allergic to the sun! I could be committing suicide by laying out here today!" But she stays out, just as she had planned, because her mother tells her it ought to do her some good. (and if anything, will make her look less pasty...or, so her mother says) After she is officially tired of being hot and sweaty, she returns to the cool indoors, exhausted from fighting the urge to run from the heat. (If you can't stand the fire...) She goes in and looks in her mirror, curses, strips down, puts on her robe, and storms out of the bathroom. "Why must the only hint of color on my skin, other than when I blush, be freckles!!" When she was a little girl she was praised for their cuteness, and now they are just a nuisance. Though, her boyfriend apparently finds them adorable. "Oh well, I suppose I wouldn't make the greatest taned/bleach-blonde, anyway, with my level of intelligence." And it's not that she's conceited, she just knows that it takes very little intelligence to top that. After playing a quick, but almost flawless, Fur Elise on the piano, she heads to her room to play an hour or so of video games. It is, surely, the quickest way she can regain her loser-ness, after spending such a long time "tanning". At the thought of that word, she shudders, and sits down in front of her television. "Who needs real outdoors when I have so many different worlds simulated for me right here, minus the bugs and the sunburns? Gosh, those pretty-people are silly."
I'm Not Your Star
She walks quietly outside, breathing in the darkness, shivering as the coolness reached her skin. A bug brushes across her cheek and she jumps back, gasping from the shock of being touched by another living thing. It has been so long since anyone has touched her... No more mind wandering, she lets her feet take over. Somewhere away from the lights...somewhere to lay back and look at the stars like she would when she was a child. Oh, how she misses being a child. The stars don't seem so bright anymore. She takes a seat, not minding the night-time dew on the grass, and remembers looking at the stars while she was happy, and how they sparkled. They sparkled as if they were mirroring her smile, a thousand stars for each glittering tooth. But now, now they are as dull as her smile has become.
She walks quietly outside, breathing in the darkness, shivering as the coolness reached her skin. A bug brushes across her cheek and she jumps back, gasping from the shock of being touched by another living thing. It has been so long since anyone has touched her... No more mind wandering, she lets her feet take over. Somewhere away from the lights...somewhere to lay back and look at the stars like she would when she was a child. Oh, how she misses being a child. The stars don't seem so bright anymore. She takes a seat, not minding the night-time dew on the grass, and remembers looking at the stars while she was happy, and how they sparkled. They sparkled as if they were mirroring her smile, a thousand stars for each glittering tooth. But now, now they are as dull as her smile has become.
Monday, July 14, 2003
Fake Tattoos and Friend Taboos
A girl. Standing in front of a bathroom mirror, holding a wet washcloth to her hip. Removes the washcloth and looks down at a small piece of paper that was underneath. Slowly, carefully, she removes the paper to reveal a delicate butterfly. Taking a step back, she admires it in the mirror, pretending it is real. But no, it isn't. Of course not. "Not while you are under my roof, young lady." The graceful butterfly, a symbol of perfect freedom, is it not? A simple explanation of why she does not have one permanently scarred into her skin. Freedom is the one thing that she does not have. And what teenager does, really? However, there is one newly acquired freedom she has that she cannot get off her mind. That is, freedom from a friendship that meant the world to her. Probably a relationship that the teen magazines would call a "Toxic Friendship". Poison, sweet sweet toxcity. They were the best of friends. They were the worst of friends. An Aquarius and a Cancer, incompatible to the largest degree. And for some reason, this was the first time she had ever ignored the warnings of the stars. Looking at herself in the mirror now, she could see how correct they had truly been all along. And she thinks to herself, "Maybe I just wasn't meant to have friends. It seems to me that I am terrible at being one, to say the least." Perhaps she's right. Loners aren't so bad, are they? The romanticized version of them seems so wonderful... Then again, the romanticized version of everything seems so much more wonderful...even the romanticized version of romance...than reality. Real life. Who cares what real life is when you're only sixteen? So she's decided to be a loner, setting out with a new outlook on life, with only one hitch in her plan. And what a hitch it is. A boy. A boy that she loves, and cannot live without.
A girl. Standing in front of a bathroom mirror, holding a wet washcloth to her hip. Removes the washcloth and looks down at a small piece of paper that was underneath. Slowly, carefully, she removes the paper to reveal a delicate butterfly. Taking a step back, she admires it in the mirror, pretending it is real. But no, it isn't. Of course not. "Not while you are under my roof, young lady." The graceful butterfly, a symbol of perfect freedom, is it not? A simple explanation of why she does not have one permanently scarred into her skin. Freedom is the one thing that she does not have. And what teenager does, really? However, there is one newly acquired freedom she has that she cannot get off her mind. That is, freedom from a friendship that meant the world to her. Probably a relationship that the teen magazines would call a "Toxic Friendship". Poison, sweet sweet toxcity. They were the best of friends. They were the worst of friends. An Aquarius and a Cancer, incompatible to the largest degree. And for some reason, this was the first time she had ever ignored the warnings of the stars. Looking at herself in the mirror now, she could see how correct they had truly been all along. And she thinks to herself, "Maybe I just wasn't meant to have friends. It seems to me that I am terrible at being one, to say the least." Perhaps she's right. Loners aren't so bad, are they? The romanticized version of them seems so wonderful... Then again, the romanticized version of everything seems so much more wonderful...even the romanticized version of romance...than reality. Real life. Who cares what real life is when you're only sixteen? So she's decided to be a loner, setting out with a new outlook on life, with only one hitch in her plan. And what a hitch it is. A boy. A boy that she loves, and cannot live without.
