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Click!: Part II posted on November 3, 2011 - 12:25am
Patricia wouldn’t stop going on about him. It was always Ben this and Ben that. Ben said this and Ben did that. And oh yeah, did I tell you how when I met him he had dreadlocks? He looks good now but you should have seen him then. Sure, I was with Stefan at the time and so I couldn’t do anything but now…who knows? She gushed about him so much that when I finally did meet him I was more than a little disappointed. I mean he was cool and all but he wasn’t all that. And sure I could see why she might want to bed him, empty pockets and all, but still, like really?
Click! Part I (1st Draft) posted on October 22, 2011 - 5:17pm
PART I PATRICIA I’m not beautiful. Never will be. I know that. And anyone who ever tries to tell me otherwise is a liar. Either trying to be emotionally supportive or (which is more often the case) trying to fuck me. And so when Ben told me that he thought that I was beautiful I scoffed and told him that no, I wasn’t and would he please stop trying to flatter me? It wasn’t going to work. Instead of answering though, Ben lifted his camera and took my picture. Click. He carried that thing around everywhere. Took pictures of absolutely everything. Believed that life was too precious not to try and capture every moment possible. “But if you’re so busy trying to capture every moment of life possible, wont you miss out on actually living it?” I had asked him once. But instead of answering my question, Ben had simply raised his camera and taken another picture. Click.
The Coolest (prologue) I'M BAAAAAAAACK posted on September 3, 2011 - 6:34pm
“1..2..3...LIFT!” Jolts of pain surged through every nerve in my body as four sets of arms lifted me off the gurney and onto the examination table. A rabid pair of scissors chomped at my bloodied shirt and within moments my shrapnelled chest was exposed to the four pairs of probing eyes and the four pairs latexed hands charged with the task of doing everything in their power to make sure that I did not die on that table. “Sir! Sir!” A face filled my vision. Caramel skin. Strong but sensuous features. One brown eye, one green. I knew that face. I loved that face. That face belonged to- “SIR! can you tell me what happened?” I tried to turn my head. Tried to put my hands under me so that I could sit up. “You need to try and relax.” Another voice. A man's voice. Two strong hands gently but firmly pushing me back down onto the table. The face reappeared. “Sir...we need to know what happened.”
The Morning posted on June 21, 2011 - 1:27pm
I slipped out from between the sheets. Sat on the edge of the bed. Took a second to get my bearings. It was cold. It was also early. Around five in the morning was my guess. What time had we finally gone to sleep? I tried to think back, rack my brain but my mind was a blank. Empty except for one big fat question mark. What the fuck happened? The early morning air kissed my bare skin, causing it to break out into a rash of goose pimples. A slight chill running down the length of my back, I looked around the still dark room for any article of clothing that might be mine. Shirt, socks…anything. All I could spot were my jeans. No boxers, no belt. I sighed, “Well at least it’s better than nothing,” I mused to myself and got up to slip them on.
The Ultimatum (Strong, Black & Hot)...OVERRULED posted on June 15, 2011 - 1:20pm
I loved you. So much. But I can’t love you anymore. Not like this. Not when I feel like I don’t even know you anymore. My heart’s been war ravaged. My faith in love and what it means to love, lost. And in its place, in its place a hole. A hole so deep and so dark and so beyond filling that I wonder, what is left of my humanity? Has this war left me a ghost among the living? An animal among the civilized? What is left that I can place my hope in? A scrap book of memories. That is what I will carry along with me. Hard bound, hard pressed and hard won. Constantly clutched at but seldom opened. A reminder of what love can be, a marker with which I can pin point and not pass up a chance to have it again...
Famous (?) Last Words posted on June 9, 2011 - 8:41pm
Tonight I lock lips with the Devil. Bid the world farewell. No tears for me mama, no…No tears for me. I’m ready to go. I’m ready to leave all of this behind. All of it…So let’s go. I strangle a bottle of vodka with one hand and let Death take me by the other. She said that it would be painless. That it would be as easy as taking off a t-shirt. Pills…pills were definitely the way to go. Screw that noose around the neck nonsense. Why would someone want to go do something like that? Pills were easy. It would be like going to sleep. Like going to sleep and just never waking up. It’s getting dark in here. A little chilly as well. Can someone please turn on a light? Get me a blanket maybe. I thought I wasn’t supposed to feel anything. Why do I feel so cold? Please. Please, somebody answer me.
Daddy Issues (Censored)/ There Will Be Blood posted on June 8, 2011 - 11:26am
I’m angry. ”Bitter” is what I think they call it. And even though I try my best not to think about him, to mentally block him out, to try and waste as little brain activity on him as possible, 100% eradication…not possible. He still blames his not being around on my mother. Says that she kept me from him. Claims that he tried everything to be a part of my life. He wrote letters, bought presents, sent cards but not once were his efforts rewarded with anything but a granite like silence. And then once my mother and I left England for the States, that was it. He didn’t know where or even how to start looking for us. Do I believe him? Maybe. Do I care…?
Hangover Dookie posted on June 6, 2011 - 12:19am
Well I made it through the night. Through the day too. *hankie wiping forehead, hankie cleaning glasses, hankie scrunched into a relatively small white ball and shoved into back pocket* No fake messages, no heartfelt confessions and no hand wringing apologies made for things said or done under less than perfect circumstances. I should clap for myself. Trust me; you have no idea what kind of damage I could have caused in the state I was in last night. Drunk Lloyd is like a weapon of mass destruction, he could take out an entire city if given the chance. Ask Gulu, she knows. Ask Julie too, she could probably tell you a story or two. Probably call me an asshole as well. But forget that cuz I have no intention of talking about Julie (no matter how many times you bring her up Eva) not now, not ever cuz that, my dear, was a mistake. Pure and simple. And under the harsh glare of the Ugandan sun, a pretty big one. I mean the woman’s like forty! (Like no joke)
Coffee. Wine. Tequila> Keyboard posted on June 5, 2011 - 3:38am
1:50 am Two Iced mochas, three swallows of wine and four shots of tequila and there’s only one person I can think about. Which really sux cuz I thought that I was over her. Like really. But I see her once. All dolled up and I’m back to wanting to text her a fake mistake message so that she thinks that I’m texting someone else yet I’m really texting her just to make her think ive got other prospects and my finger juss slipped and I sent the message to her instead. Pretty pathetic right? I’m getting a lil tipsy here. This shit is pretty strong. This shit is pr and and…One person who’s rolling around my mind like a lost marble at the bottom of my rainbow painted chest of toys. 1:58 am
Every day that passes, every sun that sets, every day my pillow welcomes my head home, is another day without you. Another day away from you. Another day where the picture I keep of you in the wallet of my heart becomes a little less recognizable, a little more faded… I’ve been holding on to a ghost. Clutching at the wind. Holding onto the whisper of something long gone. Holding onto: Memories of you that I used to cherish that are becoming harder and harder to recall. Things about you that used to make my heart race that now…illicit nothing. Nothing at all. Jaded. Cold. I look at you and I see the memory of love but not love…no, that ship has sailed… “You’ve been lost.” She was leaning over me, a palm resting on each of my thighs. Each of her fingers slightly digging into my flesh. Her breath smelled of cigarettes and sherry. Her cleavage just centimeters away from my lips.