nothing
so no photo today, i know i havent updated in a while.
just not priority right now.
here is a few paragraphs from the book im writing.
Hi there, my name is Katie Oliver, I’m 22 years old. I’m in love with a man named Stephen Sora. I live in Toronto, Ontario and work at an extremely busy Production Company for the most demanding woman in the city. I guess this book is about me. There, those are the basics, I hate when books start out with some pretentious artsy paragraph. I’m not a writer, I’ll admit, I just want to put some things in writing, because believe me, sometimes I can’t even believe the shit I go through, you’ll see what I mean.
My alarm clock is still blinking 12:00, I think its Saturday. The apartment is freezing cold and I bury my feet deeper into the mountains of blankets. All I can think about is him, when really I should be thinking about eating something, I can’t remember the last time I ate. He is the one place in my life where I don’t feel afraid, where I feel calm, where I feel something good. I know, right, it is fucking cliché, but I don’t care. Right in the middle of this train wreck of a life, there he is, so normal it almost hurts. Right there to pick me up and promise that things are going to be ok. I wish I could believe him.
I finally pull myself out of bed. The apartment has not been cleaned in weeks and there is shit everywhere. I riffle through a pile of papers on my coffee table, pack my bong and take a hit. Spark, light, smoke, exhale. That’s better. I throw on my coat and head out, no destination in mind. My hunger is making me feel sick, or maybe it’s just the drugs. Anyway, there I am walking along, minding my own business, when I get the phone call.
“Hello?”
“Katie, it’s Jason.”
“Oh, hey dude, long time, how are you?”
“Not so good actually…” his voice is shaking,
“What’s wrong? What happened?” I ask, bracing myself.
“…Taryn’s dead.”
I stop.
“Katie? ... Katie I know how much she meant to you, if you need someone…”
“How, how did it happen?” I feel like I’m choking.
“…She killed herself Katie. She left a note, I think you should read it.”
“Fuck.” I hang up.
Sitting on the curb, crying into my hands, and older man sits down beside me. I can’t stop crying.
“You’re going to be ok.” He says.
I pull my face away from my hands, and look at the stranger. He is well dressed in his late 60’s. He smiles a half smile. Tears roll down my face.
“How do you know?” I manage to get a few words out.
“I just do” He hands me a Kleenex and stood up to walk away.
“Wait…” I choke, “Um… What’s your name?”
“Harold” he smiles.
“Katie”
“Well, it was nice meeting you, Katie. I know you hurt now, but give it time, you’re going to be great.”
“…Thank you”
i know its not much,
just some words in some sort of order
love you all!
just not priority right now.
here is a few paragraphs from the book im writing.
Hi there, my name is Katie Oliver, I’m 22 years old. I’m in love with a man named Stephen Sora. I live in Toronto, Ontario and work at an extremely busy Production Company for the most demanding woman in the city. I guess this book is about me. There, those are the basics, I hate when books start out with some pretentious artsy paragraph. I’m not a writer, I’ll admit, I just want to put some things in writing, because believe me, sometimes I can’t even believe the shit I go through, you’ll see what I mean.
My alarm clock is still blinking 12:00, I think its Saturday. The apartment is freezing cold and I bury my feet deeper into the mountains of blankets. All I can think about is him, when really I should be thinking about eating something, I can’t remember the last time I ate. He is the one place in my life where I don’t feel afraid, where I feel calm, where I feel something good. I know, right, it is fucking cliché, but I don’t care. Right in the middle of this train wreck of a life, there he is, so normal it almost hurts. Right there to pick me up and promise that things are going to be ok. I wish I could believe him.
I finally pull myself out of bed. The apartment has not been cleaned in weeks and there is shit everywhere. I riffle through a pile of papers on my coffee table, pack my bong and take a hit. Spark, light, smoke, exhale. That’s better. I throw on my coat and head out, no destination in mind. My hunger is making me feel sick, or maybe it’s just the drugs. Anyway, there I am walking along, minding my own business, when I get the phone call.
“Hello?”
“Katie, it’s Jason.”
“Oh, hey dude, long time, how are you?”
“Not so good actually…” his voice is shaking,
“What’s wrong? What happened?” I ask, bracing myself.
“…Taryn’s dead.”
I stop.
“Katie? ... Katie I know how much she meant to you, if you need someone…”
“How, how did it happen?” I feel like I’m choking.
“…She killed herself Katie. She left a note, I think you should read it.”
“Fuck.” I hang up.
Sitting on the curb, crying into my hands, and older man sits down beside me. I can’t stop crying.
“You’re going to be ok.” He says.
I pull my face away from my hands, and look at the stranger. He is well dressed in his late 60’s. He smiles a half smile. Tears roll down my face.
“How do you know?” I manage to get a few words out.
“I just do” He hands me a Kleenex and stood up to walk away.
“Wait…” I choke, “Um… What’s your name?”
“Harold” he smiles.
“Katie”
“Well, it was nice meeting you, Katie. I know you hurt now, but give it time, you’re going to be great.”
“…Thank you”
i know its not much,
just some words in some sort of order
love you all!