1.: 8-26-09
My mother was practicing alcoholic until I was halfway to my 16th birthday. A damned fine job she did of it, too. I could count on my hands the number of times I kissed her good night through those years. Even less were the time I did but couldn't smell the vodka saturating her very being.
A lot changed that year. I got my first boyfriend in February; I got my brother back (then lost him again) after his escapade to jail beginning in November. My self destructive patterns sped up then slowed again. I lost weight then gained my loss plus more back. I learned what it feels like to lays in the arms of some you love and know they love you back.
--Unfinished.
2.: 8-31-09
Books have a way of overplaying a person's eyes, giving them descriptions only plausible in Japanese cartoons. For example, I for one have never met e person with steel gray eyes. I don't think they exist.
However, saying his were red would have been spot on. From far away, they could have easily been mistaken for brown. Close up, the color of autumn leaves that I would loved to jump into right then and there. Crimson around the pupil, bleeding into a forest green, Framed with the longest and thickest eyelashes I have ever seen on a man who was not wearing makeup, they were beautiful. He was also the only person I had ever seen whose eyes actually smiled. Books always seem to say that, too. Maybe that's just what happens when you fall in love with someone. You see things that no one else could; the ghost of a laugh on their lips, the way their body is always turned slightly towards you no matter what the setting, even the future gleam of gold on their ring finger.
Sort of unfinished, I guess. I doubt I'll go back to that.
Trying to keep up with my writing. Just most of it lately is all emo and has nothing to do with my book and it pisses me off.
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