Hey...read this...tell me what you think
I just started writing on this community at livejournal. fun stuff. They give you a line and then you write a short story off of the line. This is what I wrote...its late...forgive me if it sucks
A pair of sharp tiger eyes appeared from the massive mound of dark brown hair. I never noticed his eyes quite like this before.
Maybe I lied. Maybe I noticed them all the time.
"Hey, can you move your foot? Your stepping on my pen," Marcus harshly insists.
"Oh, right," I try and giggle off. Coolly, I lean over to pick up his blue bic, but can't seem to maintain balance still sitting in my desk. I catch myself with the palm of my hands as they smack against the berber. Only a few seconds pass before the scarce patience he has remaining diminishes. Since I can't handle simple tasks today, he bends down, retrieves the pen and quickly returns to the seat adjacent to mine. I wish he would have stayed. I like seeing him that close. Feeling him that close. Without such proximity, someone might miss the freckles all over his nose or the specks of green in his deep brown eyes.
Before that demanding request, Marcus hadn't said a word to me in 4 months. Why he had been ignoring me, I don't know. As I recall it, he was the one who
kissed me by day, but kissed Claire by night. I was the idiot. I honestly believed he was perfect. I didn't see through his "your so beautiful" and "I need you" lines, but I probably wouldn't ever have. Those lines are exactly what I wanted to hear. Was I that vain? Did I really need a boost of esteem that badly? I hope not.
When I found out about her, I thought it was lie. My eyes must have been deceiving me. I screamed at him until my vocal cords burned and my words slurred into a dull hum. Then I cried. Not because I was depressed or angry, but because thats all I had left to do.
I obviously didn't learn anything at all.
I still love him. Or maybe I just love the idea of someone loving me.
A pair of sharp tiger eyes appeared from the massive mound of dark brown hair. I never noticed his eyes quite like this before.
Maybe I lied. Maybe I noticed them all the time.
"Hey, can you move your foot? Your stepping on my pen," Marcus harshly insists.
"Oh, right," I try and giggle off. Coolly, I lean over to pick up his blue bic, but can't seem to maintain balance still sitting in my desk. I catch myself with the palm of my hands as they smack against the berber. Only a few seconds pass before the scarce patience he has remaining diminishes. Since I can't handle simple tasks today, he bends down, retrieves the pen and quickly returns to the seat adjacent to mine. I wish he would have stayed. I like seeing him that close. Feeling him that close. Without such proximity, someone might miss the freckles all over his nose or the specks of green in his deep brown eyes.
Before that demanding request, Marcus hadn't said a word to me in 4 months. Why he had been ignoring me, I don't know. As I recall it, he was the one who
kissed me by day, but kissed Claire by night. I was the idiot. I honestly believed he was perfect. I didn't see through his "your so beautiful" and "I need you" lines, but I probably wouldn't ever have. Those lines are exactly what I wanted to hear. Was I that vain? Did I really need a boost of esteem that badly? I hope not.
When I found out about her, I thought it was lie. My eyes must have been deceiving me. I screamed at him until my vocal cords burned and my words slurred into a dull hum. Then I cried. Not because I was depressed or angry, but because thats all I had left to do.
I obviously didn't learn anything at all.
I still love him. Or maybe I just love the idea of someone loving me.