AN::
Another experiment, i.e. I got bored. Or, I got writers block on my Topaz story.
"But if I can stop by your side, I'm sure I'll go to the greatest paradise."
Music:: #9 "I'd rather be in love" by Michelle Branch ~The Spirit Room~
~ Pucca (.~) =O (.__.) *punch*
..::.. Failed Life ..::..
..::.. Chapter One ..::..
..::.. Painting White Roses Blue ..::..
I'll never forget the day he let me go. Just like that, we parted hands and I went my way, he went his. The promise still stands strong in my mind; he will come looking one day. And until then, I shall wait, with my heart on my sleeve and his name on my lips. But can I live that way? Forever and ever? Will my childhood dreams last for all time? I don't know, you tell me. As we unfold this story of the loved and the lost, may it fill you with hope and dreams of finding true love.
I don't believe I regret it, but it broke my heart just the same. I left him standing in the basement of what our future dream would have been. And every time I pass that place, I have this magnetic urge to fly down the steps and fling open the door just to see him again. And cry to him about how they were starving me and that all I ever seem to do is being willed to be pampered up and flashed by cameras.
They Yaza Senior Fashion show seemed so long ago, like a faded dream, the blue roses had shed and died, as my fantasy dream with George. Referring to him in third person seems so impersonal, as if he were merely another client, wanting a model through the agency.
President had been so kind to me, immediately after I graduated, she shaped me up right away. Willed me to eat less so that I would seem even taller than my 5' 8". Made me by the right clothes so that I would fashionable even when I simply went to interviews.
My mother, my wonderful sarcastic sadistic mother. Every magazine I had been in, ever cover I was on, she clipped it and pinned it on a bulletin board in the kitchen. It was as if she was secretly approving and encouraging me to be all that I can be.
Nothing made sense anymore, my failed attempt at love, my diet, my mother, my life. But most of all, me. I'd find myself shaking at my frailty by simply watching the monitor of the catwalk. I'd find myself smelling the ting of George's cologne wherever I went. And whenever I walked by a flower shop, I never think twice before storming in and coming out with an armful of white roses.
I don't know who I am anymore, all throughout my cluttered apartment, there are empty vodka bottles in which sat white roses that were dyed blue. Am I insane? George, am I insane? Am I going insane without you? Am I going insane for you?
George, why won't you answer my silent pray? Why won't you call me, because I've left my phone on for god knows how long?
To hell with it, Miwako's message can wait. I sank back onto my satin couch, blared the stereo, and sat blankly at what I might do between now and tomorrow. I popped open a bottle of vodka and took a swig, tonight I'll be painting white roses blue.
-=-==-=-=-=-=-
Little note:
Probably won't be continuous, dunno, we'll see. *wink* ~ Carrie
Another experiment, i.e. I got bored. Or, I got writers block on my Topaz story.
"But if I can stop by your side, I'm sure I'll go to the greatest paradise."
Music:: #9 "I'd rather be in love" by Michelle Branch ~The Spirit Room~
~ Pucca (.~) =O (.__.) *punch*
..::.. Failed Life ..::..
..::.. Chapter One ..::..
..::.. Painting White Roses Blue ..::..
I'll never forget the day he let me go. Just like that, we parted hands and I went my way, he went his. The promise still stands strong in my mind; he will come looking one day. And until then, I shall wait, with my heart on my sleeve and his name on my lips. But can I live that way? Forever and ever? Will my childhood dreams last for all time? I don't know, you tell me. As we unfold this story of the loved and the lost, may it fill you with hope and dreams of finding true love.
I don't believe I regret it, but it broke my heart just the same. I left him standing in the basement of what our future dream would have been. And every time I pass that place, I have this magnetic urge to fly down the steps and fling open the door just to see him again. And cry to him about how they were starving me and that all I ever seem to do is being willed to be pampered up and flashed by cameras.
They Yaza Senior Fashion show seemed so long ago, like a faded dream, the blue roses had shed and died, as my fantasy dream with George. Referring to him in third person seems so impersonal, as if he were merely another client, wanting a model through the agency.
President had been so kind to me, immediately after I graduated, she shaped me up right away. Willed me to eat less so that I would seem even taller than my 5' 8". Made me by the right clothes so that I would fashionable even when I simply went to interviews.
My mother, my wonderful sarcastic sadistic mother. Every magazine I had been in, ever cover I was on, she clipped it and pinned it on a bulletin board in the kitchen. It was as if she was secretly approving and encouraging me to be all that I can be.
Nothing made sense anymore, my failed attempt at love, my diet, my mother, my life. But most of all, me. I'd find myself shaking at my frailty by simply watching the monitor of the catwalk. I'd find myself smelling the ting of George's cologne wherever I went. And whenever I walked by a flower shop, I never think twice before storming in and coming out with an armful of white roses.
I don't know who I am anymore, all throughout my cluttered apartment, there are empty vodka bottles in which sat white roses that were dyed blue. Am I insane? George, am I insane? Am I going insane without you? Am I going insane for you?
George, why won't you answer my silent pray? Why won't you call me, because I've left my phone on for god knows how long?
To hell with it, Miwako's message can wait. I sank back onto my satin couch, blared the stereo, and sat blankly at what I might do between now and tomorrow. I popped open a bottle of vodka and took a swig, tonight I'll be painting white roses blue.
-=-==-=-=-=-=-
Little note:
Probably won't be continuous, dunno, we'll see. *wink* ~ Carrie