Thursday, December 20, 2012


a guy's perspective.

She was insane.
Her eyes were deep blue.
But they were always lost in the thick smoke of cigarettes.
And red most of the time from all the pot she smoked.
She hated her blonde hair.
'It's so preppy,' she insisted when I found her in her bathroom, soaking her beautiful long curls in black dye.

She was really insane.
I saw her, the other night, with a man at a club. They hugged, giggled and exchanged soft pecks on the cheeks. All under the flashing lights.
Her eyes were covered in eye shadow and other dark, globs of make up.
I remember because her eyes met mine. She gazed at me for seconds before turning back to her companion.

Hours later, I was home and in bed.
I had hope that sleep would help me forget her.
In the midst of silent tears, (I kept telling myself I'll never cry for her again but I would always fail) the door bell rang and I found her on my doorstep.
Her make up; ruined from her tears. Or the rain. I couldn't tell.

"I just wanted to try something new," she sobbed on my shoulder. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I won't do it again, baby,"
The pain in my chest subsided. I brushed her hair with my fingers as I consoled her in whispers.

"It's okay."

While she took a shower, her phone was left on my bed.
It rang continuously, leaving twenty miss calls from three different men.

She's definitely insane.
Why do i love her, then?

fictional story i came up with at 4 am.
haven't written in the longest time! goodnight.

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labels: fiction, outfits, significant other