What's the word of the day, subconscious?
Dumpy?
Sounds great.
Sorry I didn't blog yesterday- two unfinished projects, awards night, and a whole lot of thinking didn't leave me much time to do anything, much less get on here and spill my guts. To compensate, this blog'll be chock fulla shit, featuring rants, poems, music, even a gif or two.
Press play my lovelies, and let's get this show on the road. (PS: This song brings out my inner stripper. I'll probably prance around in my hooker heels and babydoll top to this later.)
I better talk about the whole Hunter sitch while it's still fresh in my mind. After my last post, we had been texting. Sexually charged flirting, you know us teenagers. Suddenly, he suggests that we "find a time and place" to do all the things we've said. I looked at the phone, and quickly texted (at east, as fast as a Motorola Razor can allow): "...what are you suggesting?"
He texted back: "I think you know. ;)"
I paused, briefly. Did I know? Was he actually.... no, it couldn't be. I hesitated, and then, I asked:
"....like a date?"
His response?
"Yeah, something intimate. A setting where it's just the two of us."
I don't know how many times I've read THAT text over....
So, yeah, he asked me out.
.....
^ Pretty much how I felt (feel).
So that night we decide to meet after his football practice after school the next day.
So, the next day, he passes me in the hall. As though it's completely natural, his hand brushes my shoulder as he walks by, leaving fire upon my skin. I spun around and watched him walk away, head towards the stairs. I couldn't help but smile and blush.
God, I'm such a sucker.
So then, since I was stuck at school anyway (no way to get home) and I had to stay for awards night, I just decided to wait.
So I wait.
And wait.
About 20 minutes after his practice was supposed to end, I text him, asking him if we were still meeting up. After five minutes, he replied, saying that his dad had picked him up for a birthday dinner.
"It's not his fault, completely." Darcy, who was with me at the time, noted.
Still, I felt (feel) like this:
So, then, after Darcy had left me, I wrote a little pathetic poem.
An Asymptomatic Lover
Waiting, now alone.
Your touch still burning on my shoulder
I'm half here, half gone
The not quite invisible girl
Embarrassed by my own thoughts
Stupid for thinking I ever had a chance
With you.
Will we ever act on
The words we say?
Or will what we have
(Whatever this may be)
Consist of made up fantasies
Ready to come alive
Yet pushed away.
Can't face you yet again
I've grown bolder, but still can't try
(Funny how I'm nervous still...)
Play it cool, end up just a fool
That's my life story, babe.
And I understand if you don't
Want to get twisted up
In the likes of me.
You deserve better,
Even I deserve better.....
No, you deserve better.
I deserve nothing, except
One more day to try
And get through.
And suddenly, I feel very lonely once again
And I have to remind myself
That you're not here for me-
Never was, never will be.
Told you it was pathetic.
Ah well. Anyway. Next day (today) I realized that if I still wanted this date, I couldn't be a bitch and give him the cold shoulder. So I fired a text his way, wishing him luck on the football game today. He responded with a "Thanks!"
Some faith in humanity had been restored.
Then, I wrote another poem. Equally as pathetic, just with a different tone.
"Do you kiss on the first date?"
A kiss.
I can imagine it so well.
A kiss between
You and I.
Your hands gripping my waist,
Warm fingers biting into my skin
Feeling the touch of the rough hair
On your face, on my fingertips.
Our eyes will meet,
Circles of dark, smooth brown
Like pools of melted chocolate
Locked onto the spheres
Of forest green, with specks
Of hazel wood, dots of
Blue sky, an undecided colour.
That brief moment of silence
Screaming to be filled
And then, you pull me close
My heart will compress and then
Grow, so large, and soar
And then- our lips meet.
Soft, warm, fluttery contact
This incredible connection
Skin to skin, heart to heart
My fingers teasing through
Your curly hair....
A kiss.
fUUUUUU- that took me forever to write.
SO. Recap.
Boys are weird.
Poetry is fun.
I like trains.
Sayonara, bitches. Chew on that till next time.
-V.
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