(no subject)
The sun at times hurt my eyes...shining, garish, beams heading for my gray orbs. If only I could recieve a tan, but that was not possible. It was horrible. I looked decent, my clothes at least. Wore a orange and maroon short sleaved shirt on, striped, and a pair, my only pair, of jeans. My hands were in my navy blue light weight jacket, my head was downward, as a leaned on some concrete wall, looking at my semi-nice, tattard pair of reebox teenie shoes. It was doable, not like I was competing for Ms.Stylish-Model-of-the-year anywhere. Not like I can afford to, expecialy now that I'm fired. Stupid, stupid Lenny and his D-I-V-O-R-I-C-E. Well..I was used spelling it out on the work force, we all did, behind his back. Him listening to Pat Benetar and crying over Sleepless in Seatle..I began to 'wonder' about him.
Not everyday your arranged-marriage-wife leaves you for a multi-billionare.
Mum was staying with me..in my piece of sod for an motel room, I think she only did it because she missed me..or felt bad, maybe she did miss me? I have a hankering feeling that I probably should see my dad again, soon,...or..maybe I could see that strange, blue-eyed boy again? Well, I only know two people here well, maybe he goes to school around here?
My hair was partly pulled back in two tan clips, my hair was almost down to my waiste..wavy and blonde. I held a cigerette between my index and middle finger..a habit I started when I was twelve, now..no. I'm not a 'rebel' just because I smoke. I truthfuly hate the habit -- with a undying passion, yet I've been doing it so long...and it all started because I was bored. Boredom. When you're tweleve, and you have nothing to do, and you're living in Alberta..what can you do?
I put the already lit cigarette inbetween my full, pink lips, and take a long..well needed, drag. I release the cigarette, inhalling the smoke, not menthols mind you, and exhaling it back into the window afternoon air. I drop it, and with my tattared teenie shoe, I squish it like an annoying bug.
Not everyday your arranged-marriage-wife leaves you for a multi-billionare.
Mum was staying with me..in my piece of sod for an motel room, I think she only did it because she missed me..or felt bad, maybe she did miss me? I have a hankering feeling that I probably should see my dad again, soon,...or..maybe I could see that strange, blue-eyed boy again? Well, I only know two people here well, maybe he goes to school around here?
My hair was partly pulled back in two tan clips, my hair was almost down to my waiste..wavy and blonde. I held a cigerette between my index and middle finger..a habit I started when I was twelve, now..no. I'm not a 'rebel' just because I smoke. I truthfuly hate the habit -- with a undying passion, yet I've been doing it so long...and it all started because I was bored. Boredom. When you're tweleve, and you have nothing to do, and you're living in Alberta..what can you do?
I put the already lit cigarette inbetween my full, pink lips, and take a long..well needed, drag. I release the cigarette, inhalling the smoke, not menthols mind you, and exhaling it back into the window afternoon air. I drop it, and with my tattared teenie shoe, I squish it like an annoying bug.