i feel like writing,but not my story.
so here we go...
Damn that freaking nokia tone....
'where are you, phone?'
'where the crap are you???'
'there you are.'
vision blurs as the back of my hand smudges yesterdays mascara.
or maybe the day before....
who gives a crap.
'Are you coming to school today?
Cos I don't know if I'm gonna bother sticking around if you're not.
I won't survive english without you :P.
You'll always be mine,
I love you, don't forget it.
'Okay okay, so he gives a crap'.
god i feel like crap.
Pay no mind, I am in bed drowning in my own snot.
not pretty, even english is preferable to looking at me right now.
and hearing me, god.
even home group would be better.
love you too,
Smack, phone on desk.
and you would never be worse than english.
its not possible'
you're sweet, but im still snotty.
hmmm, i love it when you play with my hair.
its so nice.
do I smell chicken and sweet corn soup?
hang on, what??
'hello you healthy bastard'
'well, its nice to see you too!'
'no its not, I look awful. And I don't even need to see me to know that I look awful.'
'you look beautiful. as always.'
'don't give me that shit' but I can't help but smile.
'shut up snotty, and drink.'
'but that m'eans I have to sit up!'
'oh shush and be grateful. some poor chinese woman at the golden dragon slaved over reheating that for at least four and a half minutes'
'oh hardy har. mmm, tastes like at least five minutes, you're spoiling me'
'only the best for my girl'
I smile,and relax into you as you hand me a tissue.
wanna know something sad?
I got keep writing that for a ridiculously long time.
Just call me Rosie Greeneyes.
The Holding Of One's Breath
9 hours ago