I’ve got to get a job. I don’t care about the application from, I’ll just put a bunch of crap on it, I’m good at making stuff up. I’ll apply to work at the Thrift Store, the Donut place (overnights – I might as well get paid to stay up all night) and the discount movie theater at the mall.
I bought a couple of $1 and $2 shirts from the Thrift Store, just to change things up with my jeans (Morgan’s jeans, which I no longer intend to return), and a pack of discount underwear at Walmart (supermarket), so now I’m officially broke again. Hence the need for said “job”. Continue reading
I found the love poem in the snow,
the beautiful, white snow,
that was glistening like a million white diamonds in the sun.
I had to squint my eyes, the glare was so painful,
the piece of paper was just lying there, slowly getting wet, the ink starting to smudge with moisture.
I don’t know who dropped it or who it was intended for but it’s beautiful.
I still have it in my backpack. I don’t care who it’s for because it was meant to end up in my backpack and it’s mine now.
I don’t have two beautiful twin sisters (who does?). I like imagining I have sisters because I get pretty lonely here. My mom leaves a lot, not usually for this long, but anyway even when she’s here it’s like she’s not here. I don’t feel like talking about my mom today though…
Have you ever idolized someone? Daydreamed about them so much that you’ve built an emotional attachment to them? And they have no idea? They don’t even notice you? Continue reading
So I’ve been writing about this “Friday Night” of mine for over a week now and it’s taken up seven (?) posts so far! Sorry about that. I’m still relatively new to blogging and I started out having really LONG posts, not realizing that people don’t actually have the time to read long posts. Now I find that I myself usually only read posts under ~550 words. And hence the need to split up my writing into sections.
I will finish telling you about Friday night, whether or not anyone cares, as therapy for me, if nothing else. And because I like to write: Continue reading
I wait several minutes before I feel safe enough to uncover Morgan from beneath all the pillows and blanket. He shakes his hair and runs both his hands through it, taking a deep breath, cheeks flushed.
“The coast clear?” He whispers and I immediately shush him.
“I have to keep my door open.” I whisper, really quietly.
“What?” Morgan mouths the words without sound.
I move closer and try again.
“I have to keep the door open.”
He nods. He smells nice up close; a clean and pleasant smell that is discrete enough to go unnoticed unless you’re up close. “Should I go home?” He whispers, a little too close to my ear, and I get ticklish. I shake my head ‘no’, that I don’t want him to go home yet. Instead of talking I grab Viros and open notepad. I type:
I should at least wait till my Mom falls back asleep before opening the door to let you out, so she won’t hear it opening.
I pass him the laptop and he writes back. Continue reading
Morgan walks farther into my room, shaking the leftover snowflakes off his curls. His hair is even more wavy now from the moisture.
“I hate curls.” He says, running his fingers through his thick, dark hair. “That’s why I used to slick my hair down. I wanted it to be straight.”
“Really?” I say, adding my ‘many words’ to the conversation.
“Yeah, I always thought curly hair was too girly.” He tussles his hair some more then gives up. I want to tell him that most girls love curly hair and it looks great on guys (refer to photo below), as long as its not a perm I guess, but I can’t seem to form words and say them. Continue reading
I’m downstairs, in the narrow hallway that leads to the front door. My Mom’s Busy Bee Housecleaning window decal covers the glass. A thick frost has enveloped the entire door. I won’t be able to see Morgan through the iced up glass if he comes. I try to unlock the door.
Then lock is frozen and for a moment I don’t think I will be able to open it. I give it one last try with all my might and it opens. I breathe a sigh of relief. The cold air in the hallway seeps into me, to my very core, even though I’m wearing a black hoodie and jeans. Fortunately I was smart enough to wear my shoes down.
The door rattles suddenly, startling me. It makes loud cracking sounds as Morgan pushes it open. I help him with the door and he tumbles in. Continue reading
What’s in the box?
I have no idea what to expect.
The box is big but not too heavy.
It sounds like there is something shifting around on the inside when I carry it up the stairs. I don’t want to shake it too much, until I see what is in there. I set the box down in my room. Continue reading