Sunday, December 14, 2008

La la la de da, he's humming in her ear. With one hand holding one of hers, and the other in the small of her back, he spins her 'round and 'round. Dancing to the melody of their own music, their own heartbeats.

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Things just don't feel right anymore. With anything. A strong sense of nostalgia is coming over me, and I'm starting to miss the way things once were. I miss so many things. I feel like my life is one of those pretty little displays in the windows of stores; and I'm just window shopping, walking along the sidewalk. I don't know who I am. I don't know my favorite color. I don't know what my "style" is. I don't know what kind of music I like. I don't know my opinion on anything. I feel like I've been so influenced by so many people that I don't know myself. I don't even have a "self." I don't know. I'm not making any sense.

Sunday, December 7, 2008

They met, fell in love, and saw each other for the last time, all on the same day- a sunny, brisk, October afternoon. She woke up that morning, knowing it would be an exceptionally good day. He woke up, wanting it to be his last.
After breakfast, she headed out to the grocery store. At the same time, he was starting his morning run. She walked down the sidewalk humming along to a song only she heard, while his heart was breaking with every stride he took. As she was walking, she passed the local coffee shop, and something drew her in. She knew she had to get to the store, but oh, what the hell, a mocha latte was calling her name. She sat down with her drink and opened up her book. Just as she was getting up to leave, the bell on the door rang, signaling someone's entrance. Looking up, she saw a beautiful, distressed face. He walked to the counter, accidentally knocking her book off the table (secretly, it was on purpose- he thought she was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen, and was desperate to talk to her). They both knelt over to pick it up, he beat her to it. They laughed, and she invited him to sit with her.
They began talking, and the late morning turned to afternoon, with them still sitting in the coffee shop. They talked about everything. Books, their childhoods, songs that they knew every word to, what they thought about the world...everything. They came to know each other in a way that most married couples have never, and will never experience. While they didn't know each others' names, they could list the other's favorite color, childhood pet's name, and where they had their first kiss. She knew he got the scar just below his left ear from falling off the monkey bars in 2nd grade, and that a girl named Sarah in his class helped him to the Nurse's office. He knew that she fell victim to her first heartbreak in 8th grade, when she was hopelessly in love (or what was thought to be love in those years) with Evan Whiteport and he went to the movies with Jenny Mcduff.
Like I said, the came to know each other well. After their coffees were long gone, they sat at the table, discussing their secret longings and wishes. And in between the laughs and sympathetic silences, they fell in love. I'm not talking love at first sight- no, it was much more than this. They fell more in love with each other with every embarrassing story, every smile, every tear.
She looked at her watch, and knew that she had to go. As much as she wanted to stay and learn more about this b she had to leave. He was sad, but understood. She told him what a wonderful time she had. With a quick, but perfectly long enough kiss on the forehead, he said goodbye. He watched her walk away, knowing he would never see her again. He had no way of knowing how to get a hold of the girl who had saved his life, but that was ok. He was happy; she had given him a happiness he'd been looking for, for months.
She'll never know that in every girl he meets, he looks for traces of her. Anything to remind him of her. But at the same he'll never know that she sleeps with that book, the one he knocked off her table, by her bedside every night.


I don't know how I feel about that one. It doesn't seem right. Unfinished, or something. I don't know. I think it's too long. sifsjfoesf. Oh well. Tell me what you think.

Friday, December 5, 2008

Wandering Aimlessly

While she sits, deep in thought, he counts the freckles on her face. 1... 2... 3... they trickle across her cheek, over the bridge of her pretty little nose, and onto the other cheek. She looks up, and catches him staring. She smiles and looks away, a rosy blush crawling across her face. He always loved that smile, and even more so, the fact that he could be the cause of it. He loves to watch her think. The frustrated, curious look that is invariably there. If he could, he would gently kiss every one of her long eye lashes


He sees her sitti
ng on a park bench, doodling away in her journal. Her quiet, lovely voice is subconsciously singing her thoughts aloud. He secretly wishes that same voice would sing him to sleep; his very own lullaby.



I'm quite illiterate when it comes to this whole "blog" thing. You wouldn't believe the trouble I had coming up with my URL, and, um, I don't remember what the other stuff is called. I didn't know what anything was so I just kinda took a chance with it all. I don't think I'm going to put my name on here, ever. I think it adds a nice mystery to it. I like that. So basically, what I plan to do with this thing is... I don't know. What I wrote above was something that just came to my head. I'll do that often. Whether it's a little story thing like that, or lyrics / quotes (I'll obviously put who they're by, just in case they hit "that spot" in your heart, like they do me), or just whatever I'm thinking. I think a lot. Okay, well, I'm going to mess around with this thing, see what I can find. Don't be afraid to give me some advice. About my writing (as you can see, I'm not very good), or about this blog stuff. Thanks :)