My words, so small and timid, become lost in the definitions and meanings. Yours, on the other hand, so powerful and overbearing, demand attention and slowly choke the life from anything I have to say.
I hope someday you realize all the things that you've done wrong.
Too Little Too Late - Jo Jo
Images were spinning through her awkward mind. Humming incoherently, she reflected.
There's a sad widow, recollecting the love of her departed husband, with a single tear welling up in her large and caring eyes. Two teenage girls, embracing and sniffling in the girl's bathroom. A solitary young woman, lying on her bed in the dark. She holds the picture of a boy and tries her best to hold her heart together at the same time.
Such love and compassion. Such emotion. Oh, how the world is a pitiful place, she thought. How people hurt sometimes. How the love of something or someone can literally break you into two.
Smiling to herself, she stepped off the city bus into the mist and serenity. The fresh smell of the evergreens. How she loved the smell of the rain. How she loved the world, with it's global warming and homeless people. How she loved days like today; so quiet and thoughtful. Such an absolute dread of a day, how wonderful.
Treading home, the thought arose. Suppose the only point of falling in love was to then fall out. The only purpose of the excitement and anticipation was to progress to the dissapointment and depression. Yes, this had to be it. And in finding the answer, she felt much ease. Hopefully, those pour souls would find the same.
When she entered her room and saw his picture looking up at her from the makeup stained pillow, she gave it a dazzling smile. "So long," she said, while tossing it into the trash. "I won't be playing russian roulette with my heart anymore."
* The title's of my posts from now on, will be lines from songs that are either inspiring my writing or stuck in my head at the moment. At the bottom of each entry, I shall make note of the artist and song name.
Passenger Seat - Death Cab For Cutie
Yesterday's; Your Ex-Lover Is Dead - Stars
Tra-lala-la-la. Work was boring tonight. I'm pretty sure I did absolutely nothing but talk to Stephen all night and make it look like I was folding tables. I happen to be talented at that. But yeah, feet = killing me. I don't know why every morning when I am running for my bus I don't think to bring the comfortable work shoes. But I just don't, so now I have three rather large holes almost in the back of my left heel. Gross.
Feels kinda cool to be writing in this again. I understand entirely this won't be my best piece of work; I'm merely warming up. I look back on some of the old stuff, damn, it was good. (Damn, I am conceited.) So I'm hoping the little site make-over will cause me to feel the desire to blog. I'm thinking about having one post per week to catch up on what's been going on, as this one does, and then the rest will be either poetry, short story or randomness. It will be good, I promise.
Okay so yeah. I now work at Zeller's, since like July, and I've decided that each shift is like a fight to stay alive. If I can conquer the night and make it till closing, then I am a stronger person. That is seriously what it feels like though. Every night absolutely drags by, especially in fashions where I happen to be stationed. Everyone else is so slack and has right the good time, and here I am stuck in like old men's socks... for an eternity.
Of course, it has some form of compensation for this or I wouldn't still be there. Well, for one, the hours aren't too bad, (When I'm actually getting them) and I recently acquired a raise from 6.70$ to 7.00$. So yay for me. The people I work with are all pretty cool so that makes it a bit better. Oh, and I'm forgetting all the sweet people I meet! *roll eyes*. Yeah, the other night, two pervey french men came in who spoke limited English. They were looking for tight fitting faded jeans, and could only describe them in french, so they're damn lucky I'm fluent or I would have had no idea and they would have been mightily disappointed. Anyhow, I found the first french perve a rather skin-tight pair and sent him into the changing rooms to try them on. About two minutes later, the man comes out, holding the pants in his hand and wearing... none! He starts rambling in French about how they weren't tight enough (Oh, they were tight enough) and walks over to find a different pair in his faded tightie-whities. The sight alone near induced vomiting. The man was walking through jean aisles in his underwear! Like what is wrong with some people!? Luckily, he went back in to try on another pair before I had to actually say something. Jeeze.
Tomorrow is pay-day! But that doesn't really matter because my mom is making me pay her a sick amount for going over my limit on my cell phone bill. I still just love pay-day though, makes it all feel worthwhile.
School's going alright. Classes aren't too bad, for the most part they're all right slack except for English. Of course, the only times we have homework in that class anyway are when Mr Killen's not wearing crocs. When he is, he never assigns any! It's been true every single instance now, those things must be damn comfortable I tell you, though I've vowed never to try them on.
Hannah and I went lunch shopping today to Caldwell's and Manchester. I found an adorable Guess wallet that I'll be going back for, and a mat & nat bag. We also found super-cute BCBG girl shoes in our sizes with extreme high heels. Then we headed to the market, making it back to class, ouu, about three minutes late hah.
Sorry to cut this short though everyone, I'm rambling for no apparent reason, and I'd really much rather prefer to go to bed. But expect another post, as in tomorrow. Perhaps something worth reading.
Make the move with me, I've decided to re-name the blog and give it an easier-to-remember address. I'll post the new adress for a week or so before I move it to make sure everyone copies it down. And I'll leave reminders on all my favorite sites.
It's time to bring the piano back.
