I saw a wedding take place. I saw the chemistry between the two people - Poppy (Veronica) and Chris. You could feel their love. It was so weird.
I've set out my "dream wedding". There's this place in North or South Carolina on a mountain that was kind of "carved" into a mountain that is like a mini church. I want Des'ree's "Kissing You" (From Romeo and Juliet, if you didn't know) playing in the background. Very few guests. My parents, my brothers, a few close friends. The guy -- let's call him Husband for this sequence -- would be wearing dress pants and an untucked, buttoned up white shirt and probably mountain shoes... don't know. I'd be wearing this simple, down-to-the-floor, poofless white dress, simple. Holding a single rose, going down the aisle solo. Probably have a (teenage-esque) maid of honor and best man, but that'd be it... nothing grand. No prayer, just a "wish" of everlasting happiness. Light a candle together and overlooking the mountainesque scenery. The honeymoon would be in somewhere nearby... one day, I'll live in the Appalacian Mountains. It'll happen. That is, if I ever find out if Husband exists.
Me - Just like American Beauty wasn't your thing.
Her - And I've also realized over the years that if you don't like something - you probably never will and there's no use trying to change your mind.
Me - [silence]
Her - Well I don't know if it was my thing, I never saw it all the way through. I just wanted to stop it because everyone was coming over at that time.
Me - Most people never start to like things over the time.
Her - It's just the way things are.
I made a friend this morning. His name's Horatio. He's a small guy, but very cute. Not to mention that he saw me naked on first-speak. He was a spider that just happened to be attached to the Pert Plus bottle. I didn't even get to wash my body. Instead, I just turned off the water, shrugged, smiled, and said to my new friend, "It's all yours." I have another spider friend. He's "Lucifer", and his house is attached to my record player. He is the first creature I see every morning. It's funny. Every day, he's out somewhere and every night he comes back to the same spot. Lucifer's one of my best friends, because he makes me smile in the mornings.
He took off his tie with a gentle ease, laying it in his lap and letting his collar flow slowly away from his body. His legs were outstretched in the small chairs, and the tip of his shiny black shoes tapped with the music. He smiled at Me, reassuring that everything is the way it's supposed to be. He didn't grab for my hand. I didn't grab for him. I rested my head on his fluffy, padded shoulder. In return, he relaxed his head on the back of mine. And we sat there, quiet, listening to the music he wasn't participating in, waiting for something to happen. Nothing ever did.
I just really wish I can talk to someone who'd actually listen to what I have to say. Someone who'd understand about Him, about Her, about everyone. And actually have a response to it other than "Oh" or "I've got to go now", or actually responded when someone pages them. I wish I knew these people existed. These smart, controlled people who have better answers that don't come in just one word, or one sentence for that matter. I really wish I could sit down with someone, speak everything and anything, and not have them hate me for what I say or what I believe in.
I will not say who, but someone has been telling His mom things about my "attitude" and how I'm making him "distracted". The source says that the person did this to me because they "cared for" Him. So, this person cares for Him. Obviously, they don't give a shit about how His mom thinks about me.
I ended my other journal at scribble.nu. I couldn't handle it anymore because it was getting too sad. I cried after I pushed the button. Basically, it explained about my year (It's been online since September.) and other things along those lines. I can't believe I cried.
Yeah, it's immature to use Yo mamma jokes, but I've had a good afternoon. Someone's offering to buy artwork from me. Exciting.
Her fingers crawled their way up his chest. His shirt was held up to his chin by her free hand. She quietly and quickly positioned herself in a straddle position on his lap. He opened his mouth to speak. She pressed her index finger of her crawling hand on his lips. "Shhh," she gestured. "Don't speak." And with that, she kissed him.
"Expired Rest". It started as an orange blob with a yellow spike sticking out of it. Adding a few riblike green objects under the orange and yellow squiggles and a teal object hovering over it, and you have how I feel. Attached, I guess. Add a pretty pink background and you have my "coverup". Include a blue line at the top, then you signify parents. I love how my artwork describes my thoughts.
I drove today in my car. I love my car. It's a 1987 Chevette, bright red. Red cottonlike interior, two doors. Beautiful. My baby. I am considering a name. I drove in the parking lot of an elementary school, drove across the road (interfering with traffic -- how exhilarating). Turn signals, everything. No curbs hit. I am actually not the kind of person that enjoys driving. I mean, I like being in control but what if I hit that tree or that parked bus? It's scary to have that control.
How many special people change?
How many lives are living strange?
Where were you when we were getting high?
- Oasis, "Champagne Supernova" (Full Lyrics)