Ok I know I haven't updated in awhile, but big updates are on their way...this blog is going to be a combination of what it already is (my writings and observations) and a xanga (events in my life)...
So I've been writing this story lately, very little of it is based on my real life, (if it were completely auto-biographical it would be really really boring and like the Anna Nicole Smith show nothing of significance would actually happen)...here's the first page, let me know what you think, if you like it more will be on its way, if not then no more for you. I tried something new with this, I combined some of my non-rhyming poems and a story and mixed them together. The first few lines and the title (The Same Hole) are from a poem of the same name....
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Last night I fell into the same hole I always fall into. Last time I climbed out I told myself “never again.” Well, I lied. I can’t even keep promises to myself. I need coffee. I need some aspirin. Most of all I need to get out of here. Why am I still here? Lying here next to this strange boy, knowing nothing more about him then his name, and even that isn’t absolute. I look into his eyes and see nothing. I don’t see myself in them; I don’t see the explanation I have been searching for.
Too much can change in a year, and if nothing else this past year has proved it. I went from straight A student with no social life, to straight A student with a bad reputation for being a, how can I word this nicely, social whore? That will just have to do. My best academic semester is my worst personal semester (which goes against all scientific studies). There are two frat houses I don’t dare return to for personal reasons (the ole fuck and chuck turned sour; one thing to note about frat boys: big egos, small dicks).
I find my scattered clothes, dress (how did that bra get there?), and walk out the door without as much as a single glance back. Alicia, don’t keep doing this to yourself. Don’t put yourself in places you don’t want to wake up in the next morning. Your body was not meant as a sacrifice for some drunken frat boy to worship for a night.
As I walk, I look up into the sun, trying not to flinch. I always do this to see how long I will last. My mom claims it will make me go blind, but I just see it as a challenge. If I can look the sun in the eye, then I can face anyone and anything in life. Although it seems I live life without flinching. My first time drunk resulted in my first kiss. My first time on ecstasy led to the end of my virginal life. My first boyfriend led to my very first affair (which I still think was worth it). Although at one point I had no shame about these events, now I’m starting to feel regret, and it’s the regret cheapens the memories.
So I've been writing this story lately, very little of it is based on my real life, (if it were completely auto-biographical it would be really really boring and like the Anna Nicole Smith show nothing of significance would actually happen)...here's the first page, let me know what you think, if you like it more will be on its way, if not then no more for you. I tried something new with this, I combined some of my non-rhyming poems and a story and mixed them together. The first few lines and the title (The Same Hole) are from a poem of the same name....
********************
Last night I fell into the same hole I always fall into. Last time I climbed out I told myself “never again.” Well, I lied. I can’t even keep promises to myself. I need coffee. I need some aspirin. Most of all I need to get out of here. Why am I still here? Lying here next to this strange boy, knowing nothing more about him then his name, and even that isn’t absolute. I look into his eyes and see nothing. I don’t see myself in them; I don’t see the explanation I have been searching for.
Too much can change in a year, and if nothing else this past year has proved it. I went from straight A student with no social life, to straight A student with a bad reputation for being a, how can I word this nicely, social whore? That will just have to do. My best academic semester is my worst personal semester (which goes against all scientific studies). There are two frat houses I don’t dare return to for personal reasons (the ole fuck and chuck turned sour; one thing to note about frat boys: big egos, small dicks).
I find my scattered clothes, dress (how did that bra get there?), and walk out the door without as much as a single glance back. Alicia, don’t keep doing this to yourself. Don’t put yourself in places you don’t want to wake up in the next morning. Your body was not meant as a sacrifice for some drunken frat boy to worship for a night.
As I walk, I look up into the sun, trying not to flinch. I always do this to see how long I will last. My mom claims it will make me go blind, but I just see it as a challenge. If I can look the sun in the eye, then I can face anyone and anything in life. Although it seems I live life without flinching. My first time drunk resulted in my first kiss. My first time on ecstasy led to the end of my virginal life. My first boyfriend led to my very first affair (which I still think was worth it). Although at one point I had no shame about these events, now I’m starting to feel regret, and it’s the regret cheapens the memories.
