(no subject)
You change all the Names.
Everytime you write about me, I'm some stupid Name like Betty or Beth or Betsy or Bernice. That's the worse, Bernice.
The sun shone like it was some kind of chore, to hurl cancer at us. The grass was green like grass always is, the air was humid as hell. Like running through water. I have trouble breathing through all the water (or at least i imagine) as i jog around the block. I jog around in circles to exorize. I'm not sure what I'm exorizing yet, what kind of demons live in me.
I'm running around the block around my house because i have no friends and no life, and I'm not comfortable go to far away from my house.
After about 100 laps my lungs explode into dust and i realize i haven't drank anything for hours of running. I relize that's probably not healthy so i jog my ass home. It smells like rotten tomato sauce in the kitchen and i try not to hurl as i ask my sister what she's cooking.
She replies "Dinner"
I drink down a glass of warm water, then another, then another. My stomach hurts and i lay down. I stick to the bed with sweat but i don't really care. You get used to being uncomfortable. On my bed i breath hard, i really shouldn't run so much. I can't help it. I'm so bored since you left me.
"Here you go" My mother pops her head in my door and throws a bunch of papers at me. A zine with a photocopy of what looks like pressed violets. Ugh, I hate you so much.
"Her eyes are like dead embers of a bonfire." The first sentace of your damn story. I skip the first couple sentances, skimming, my head pounding from dehydration.
"'But Bernice, I'll stay if you want me too' Greg Said to the black haired girl, the corners of her lips curling down'
'No, go, you deserve to be happy' She says her grey eyes burning into his
'I am happy, Bernice, please...'"
Gross, really.
"Thanks Muaw" I say like i do when im get annoyed
"No problem, take the garbage out"
I groan so loudly i have to get up for another glass of water.
Phil or Fill (as i'd rather spell it, Ph words piss me off) is a good guy you know. He's alright. He's got red hair, really red. Freakishly beautifully red. I think i'm obsessed with hair. When ever he comes over to visit and eat my food i always play with his hair. He's growing it out for me he says. I like to fill it up with little plastic barrets and ribbons from when i was little.
He looks fabulous, which is what he is. Flamingly gay.
Fill calls me at 8pm, i know this because i was sleeping and the phone (fone) started rining right in my damn ear. Whenever i wake up at night, the first thing i look at is the clock. 8pm exactly.
"yeah?"
"Brazil?"
"yeah"
"How are you?"
"Asleep, and you?"
"Oh gawd, i am so sorry baby girl!" he says all gay like
"It's fine, what's up?"
"I wanted to know if you wanted to go out?"
"Do i ever want to go out?"
"I know, i know. But this is different. Please, i don't want to go alone"
"How is it different?"
"Alright, it's not. Just do it please? I can pick you up, i just want to go to this show to meet this guy. But i don't want to go alone, you know how i get."
"yeah, yeah i do. But Fill, i don't like it out there"
"Suck it up"
"Whatever"
"Stellar! i'll pick you up in 30 okay?"
"yeah, jesus. okay, bye"
I rub the crap out of my eyes and get up quickly. I remember what people do to get ready to leave the house and i jump in the shower. The days worth of sweat and dust washes off and i style my black hair into a very unfashionable Bettie Page Hairdo. I think it looks hot, and usually, I'm not attracted to myself. I smuge black eyeshadow and red lipstick on my face. quickly i pick a red poka-dot skirt and a harley davidson shirt (both that are amazingly clean) and i put them on in the correct order. It's 8:27 pm.
Everytime you write about me, I'm some stupid Name like Betty or Beth or Betsy or Bernice. That's the worse, Bernice.
The sun shone like it was some kind of chore, to hurl cancer at us. The grass was green like grass always is, the air was humid as hell. Like running through water. I have trouble breathing through all the water (or at least i imagine) as i jog around the block. I jog around in circles to exorize. I'm not sure what I'm exorizing yet, what kind of demons live in me.
I'm running around the block around my house because i have no friends and no life, and I'm not comfortable go to far away from my house.
After about 100 laps my lungs explode into dust and i realize i haven't drank anything for hours of running. I relize that's probably not healthy so i jog my ass home. It smells like rotten tomato sauce in the kitchen and i try not to hurl as i ask my sister what she's cooking.
She replies "Dinner"
I drink down a glass of warm water, then another, then another. My stomach hurts and i lay down. I stick to the bed with sweat but i don't really care. You get used to being uncomfortable. On my bed i breath hard, i really shouldn't run so much. I can't help it. I'm so bored since you left me.
"Here you go" My mother pops her head in my door and throws a bunch of papers at me. A zine with a photocopy of what looks like pressed violets. Ugh, I hate you so much.
"Her eyes are like dead embers of a bonfire." The first sentace of your damn story. I skip the first couple sentances, skimming, my head pounding from dehydration.
"'But Bernice, I'll stay if you want me too' Greg Said to the black haired girl, the corners of her lips curling down'
'No, go, you deserve to be happy' She says her grey eyes burning into his
'I am happy, Bernice, please...'"
Gross, really.
"Thanks Muaw" I say like i do when im get annoyed
"No problem, take the garbage out"
I groan so loudly i have to get up for another glass of water.
Phil or Fill (as i'd rather spell it, Ph words piss me off) is a good guy you know. He's alright. He's got red hair, really red. Freakishly beautifully red. I think i'm obsessed with hair. When ever he comes over to visit and eat my food i always play with his hair. He's growing it out for me he says. I like to fill it up with little plastic barrets and ribbons from when i was little.
He looks fabulous, which is what he is. Flamingly gay.
Fill calls me at 8pm, i know this because i was sleeping and the phone (fone) started rining right in my damn ear. Whenever i wake up at night, the first thing i look at is the clock. 8pm exactly.
"yeah?"
"Brazil?"
"yeah"
"How are you?"
"Asleep, and you?"
"Oh gawd, i am so sorry baby girl!" he says all gay like
"It's fine, what's up?"
"I wanted to know if you wanted to go out?"
"Do i ever want to go out?"
"I know, i know. But this is different. Please, i don't want to go alone"
"How is it different?"
"Alright, it's not. Just do it please? I can pick you up, i just want to go to this show to meet this guy. But i don't want to go alone, you know how i get."
"yeah, yeah i do. But Fill, i don't like it out there"
"Suck it up"
"Whatever"
"Stellar! i'll pick you up in 30 okay?"
"yeah, jesus. okay, bye"
I rub the crap out of my eyes and get up quickly. I remember what people do to get ready to leave the house and i jump in the shower. The days worth of sweat and dust washes off and i style my black hair into a very unfashionable Bettie Page Hairdo. I think it looks hot, and usually, I'm not attracted to myself. I smuge black eyeshadow and red lipstick on my face. quickly i pick a red poka-dot skirt and a harley davidson shirt (both that are amazingly clean) and i put them on in the correct order. It's 8:27 pm.