.and i drug your ghost across the country where we plotted out my death.

You asked for it... Well, some of you did. And here it is. Another one-shot by Kim. Read and review, as per usual. It's inspired by Wasteland by Francesca Lia Block. I didn't write this. I wish I had, but I didn't. It's Kim's story. It's good. I like it. Oh, the controversy...

I stuck my left index finger between my teeth and started to pull the pink nail polish off. You reached over from my right and touched the black hair ties around my wrist, trailing your finger along the two.
"They leave a mark," I told you even though I'd told you before.
Using my right hand I pulled the bands back, showing you the red indents in my white skin.
"I know," you said, now touching the indents, "I don't like it."
I shrugged and let go of the bands, letting them snap back to my wrist. I pushed the toes of my right foot into the carpet, my leg beginning to shake. I stared blankly at the television screen, trying to make you think I was watching, listening. Although, the image was blurred and upside down, and I really couldn't hear a thing. I switched fingernails and kept staring.
"Hey, You," you whispered. "Stop."
I turned and looked at you, the finger still in my mouth.
"Stop what?"
"Your leg," You said, placing your hand on my bare thigh.
You left it there and I went back to pretending to watch T.V. This is how we should've lived.
~
They drove down the New Jersey highways, windows of the old Ford rolled down, music with fast guitars and loud vocals blaring. A drive that took hours. Going through almost six CDs on the drive. The blonde in the passengers seat had her feet on the dashboard, tapping her feet in the air to the beat of the rock song. Peeling pink nail polish decorated her toes. Her legs were unshaved and exposed by the surf shorts she wore. The short golden hairs shining in the sunlight. A picture of a square was tattooed in black ink on her left ankle, standing out against the pure white skin. Her hair was pulled up into a black hair tie, and two more are bound around her wrist. With her neck exposed, the tattoo of a red rose is visible, a rose surrounded by a black ribbon. The ribbon said "Love like it's a one shot."
The girl with dark hair and dark skin drove, her face just barely amused, like she was hiding her emotions. Like she wanted to stay dark, and she wanted to fade into the black upholstery and never reappear. On the steering wheel she was tapping out the same beat to the song blasting on the old radio. On the right side of her neck, the side to the open window, a rose identical to the other girl's is tattooed. It's not as vibrant as the blonde's, because her skin was darker, but it was there all the same. Her hair was short, not long enough to be put up, but long enough to reach her pierced ears.
The blonde girl turned to the other, smiling when their eyes met. The driver smiled too, and her face changed. Almost as if the blonde girl filled her with happiness and she didn't care anymore. She laughed when the blonde girl tried to whistle the song, and she smiled the entire drive. They turned off the highway, and drove down a county road until they reached the shore of the Atlantic. They parked and walked down to the beach hand in hand. The beach here was nothing like those of where they grew up, in Brighton, but it worked. Everything worked when they were together.
~
"It isn't right." I said, crying.
The tears rolling down my face, ruining my two day old mascara, and dropping onto my chest. By now my chest was soaked; I'd been crying for almost an hour.
"It isn't fair."
"I know, you," You told me, running your thumb along my knuckles.
I pulled my hand away, balled it into the sleeve of your hoodie that I was wearing, and wiped at my eyes.
"Why?" I asked, feebly.
I started sobbing again, before you could answer, and you pulled me into your arms. You held me like I was a child, a little girl scared of the dark or scared of the boogie man in her closet. You held me like a mother would her child, but there was something between us that mother and daughter didn't share.
"I have to," was your answer.
I cried in your arms until you had to leave for your flight. You flew across the country, to Camden to pursue dreams that we both shared. I should've stowed away, gone with you to that new place. To protect you like you protected me when we moved together to the West.
Protection might have saved us. Protection might have saved me.
~
Together they were one. When they were together, they were no longer were they two people. Two opposite looks. No longer were they just a blonde girl with green eyes and a pierced navel, and a brunette with brown eyes and a pierced lip. They were difference in color, height, tattoos and personalities no longer existed. They were, a single person.
A pair of beautiful people who made each other what they were. The dark personality that the brunette was so open with, and the dark personality the blonde girl hid so well, mixed. The exhilarating and happiness the blonde embraced drew out the happiness and exhilaration from the other girl. They completed each other. They relied on each other like yellow does on blue.
Then, the darker girl left. Like when dark leaves light, the light is supposed to last, supposed to never die out. Light outlives dark, light is what keeps everyone alive. But it did. With out her other half, her other personality, she faded slowly.
Faded into the black she kept away from the real world.
Faded to nothing, faded to death.
~
"When is she coming home?" they asked me. "When is she going to be back?"
I always gave them an excuse. If excuses were reality, you'd have came home before I died.
But they aren't, and you didn't.
~
She died alone. Died the day her lover came home. The surprise reunion became a surprise funeral. But she'll never know that. She'll never know she died the day the dark came back.
It was the perfect funeral, because the dark girl was the one that was left. The girl who lived in black, lived at night, was in charge. With dark flowers, dark lighting, and a dark casket. No one would've known the light girl in the pair of beauties was the one that was buried.
Buried in a black hoodie of her lover, in jeans too. No longer did she care how she looked, because when she died, she never thought she'd have the love of her life back. People talk, still. It was years ago and they still talk. Almost as though it's a legend now. They talk about how she died, why and where.
Some say it was murder, but most say suicide. Except the few romantics that say it was a broken heart. She left everything to the only person who knows everything that actually happened. People talk about how it might have turned out, how they might have lived their life together. And that single person who knows it all is the only person who'll never tell. She'll never tell because she's gone now too. Maybe they're together now. That's what some people say, too.
People say they were the epitome of love in Brighton, they were the talk of the town with their emotions. They died to be together, or they died to be apart. No one is ever going to know.
Love in Brighton, London may have died with the dark girl. Or was it with the light?

Like the others, I don't quite get this (just like the other one), but, yeah, whatever. Nice one, Kim. Way to get your angst out.
[S]tep[H] AND [K]i[M]

.drunk people.

This is hifuckinglarious. I was going through my audio files today and I found something I'd forgotten all about. Check it. I was piss drunk, by the way. Good times...

JARROD: Steph, get it together. I'm gonna get you to bed.
STEPH: I though we already did that...
JARROD: No, we didn't. You passed out.
STEPH: Sor-RY.

If I remember what happened in my drunken state of mind, I THINK Jarrod hit the light switch and caught JD and Isabel together. Just so you know, Jarrod and Isabel were having an on-off relationship.

STEPH: Whoot!
JD: What the hell did you do to my cousin??
STEPH: Nothing, 'kayh?
JARROD: I guess I don't have to ask what you were doing with my girlfriend... It was pretty obvious.
JD: Maybe if you were a better boyfriend she wouldn't be looking at me.
JARROD: Steph's just using you to get to me.
ISABEL: Don't throw that at me!
STEPH: No, it's not what it looks like...
ISABEL: It's NOT? Because it looks like you've been getting dressed in the backseat of someone's Nissan.
STEPH (to Jarrod): Hey, isn't that what you drive?
JARROD: Steph, shut up.
JD: Hey, man, YOU shut up!
ISABEL: Both of you; SHUT UP. This is all SO wrong.
STEPH: Wait, no. Do you know what would make this so much more wrong? If Kim was here.
JD and JARROD: SHUT UP.
JD: Did this asshole get you wasted?
STEPH: No...

At this point, my parents came into the room. It was getting bad but looking back, it was funny. I don't know why, though. I got SO grounded.

MOM: Stephanie, are you drunk?!
STEPH: No. *big, psuedo-smile*
And then I puked. JD was nearly sick as well.
DAD: We'll take that as a yes.

Ah, the good old days when I was on good terms with everyone. I kinda miss them, really.

CONOR OBERST *drools*

Oh-So-Sexy!

Aw, look at that cute lil' grin!

CONOR!!! *screams and faints* Emolicious...

Fact & Fiction

Originality is scarce,
This thought might seem crazy,
Maybe we still have it,
And we're just being lazy.
Hiding in the shadows,
Of the lives we think are great,
Where being different is taboo,
And problems are solved with hate.
In this world where fact is law,
And emotions just a myth,
Where we say our love is true,
But there's no heart to do the loving with.
Fact is priority,
Emotion's number two,
But it will overcome the facts,
In a way too fantastic to be true.
Falling through the hourglass,
Like a grain of sand,
Fact and fiction are in harmony,
Walking hand in hand.

I wrote this after watching Rockstar: Supernova. I got inspired after watching Dilana's 'Supersoul'. Kick ass song.

If There Are Thorns

The roses are wilted and the violets are dead,
The sugar bowl's empty and so is your head,
Thought you were kind, a soul worth my while,
Blooming like flowers and making me smile,
A scent on the breeze,
Not hard to please,
I've a wish that I'd never been born,
Where are you roses if there are thorns?
Highest priestess speaks in clear tone,
Brings healing to the villagers dying alone,
Gentle lonesome wind blowing through this October,
Drunken mad man slowly growing sober,
A warmth in the air,
Blows through her hair,
I've a wish that life lived without scorn,
Where are you roses is there are thorns?
Princess of majesty bathing by the moon,
Writing till the dusky dawn in the solace of her room,
Biting on her lower lip as nervous tensions rise,
Coldest cubes of ice make up the bodies of the lies,
Touched by the spirit,
Without ways to clear it,
I've a wish that hearts would mend once been torn,
Where are you roses if there are thorns?
Time twisting turns of the rocky dirt road,
Stop watches ticking as our lives are written in code,
Cannot understand what is inked into the skin,
Deaf to all the voices that echoe from within,
Drab colors now stain,
Blood leaks but I feel no pain,
I've a wish that needs to be sworn,
Where are you roses if there are thorns?

This is one of the deepest poems I've ever written. It's fucking meaningful. My mom found out about last night, and I'm grounded for a week. Joy. Thank God she didn't cancel the holiday reunion. I'm not allowed on the PC even. Sneaking this in while I'm doing my Science project. Well, whatever. I'm sleepy and need Panadol. Oh, yeah. Note to self; be more careful where I throw stuff next time.