realizzie737
I hate it when I smell Old Spice cologne. It smells like you. I fall back, tricking myself that you'll be right behind me waiting to posess and drive me to insanity again.
I never think of you when I wake. You don't cross my mind when it's light out. I only think of you when it's dark, and your haunting spirit posesses me. Your memory is forever branded in my dreams.
I want to know you. I want to see the inside of your room. I want to hear your thoughts. I want to feel your pain. I want to discover the darkest part of your mind, and live among your demons forever.
I was scanning the fiction aisle in the public library. Little did I know that soon a very mysterious and scruffy man would approach me and seduce me. I never expected a total stranger to lightly stroke the edge of a Dickens novel against the back of my skin tight jeans; furthermore, I never expected to enjoy every bit of it, and reciprocate with great fervor.
Ego. Mine is a very stylish, thin, and organized girl who drinks hot tea and loves to clean. She goes for prim and proper boys and despises the bizzare; the exact opposite of me.
Something we are all afraid of. Something that makes us cry. Something that is way too abundant in today's world. We pray for the day it is conquered by acceptance, and we can all live free.
I am not good at all at optimism. Im a pessimist who loves fantasizing about the worst case scenario. I like death and destruction. Very twisted I know.