kaylaclassic
I stared at the paint swatches, trying to pick a colour, even a group of colours. Anything that would make this process easier. But I had no idea. Did it matter if I chose blue, yellow, green, pink? Would he care? Would he be around long enough to form an opinion? Really I was doing this for me, try as I might to convince anyone otherwise. This was my project.
The man came toward me, eyes flashing, twitching his head wildly. I could tell he wasn't quite right. Besides the obvious anger, it was more than that. Something had snapped inside and I could not for the life of me figure out what I had done to make this happen. He was completely deranged, yelling and screaming as he lurched closer.
Occupancy. What is there to say about occupancy? Right now there is much room to be occupied in my brain. Wait. That makes me sound stupid. Scratch that. I need to empty my brain and make room for new things. The things currently there are no longer of any interest to me. Out you go. Space available. Vacant, for interesting things only.
He was seated at a low table, out of the way. The lights were dim, the music muted, the scents floating around him subtle. Everything about the room was entirely uninteresting. Except her. As she walked past he smelled cinnamon, and something citrusy. It invigorated him and made him wonder. What was someone as spicy as her doing in a place as dull as this?
Tank. What is there to say about tank? It rhymes with Hank. The name of my very favourite character on Breaking Bad. Which rhymes with sad. Which is what I am now that it's over. What am I supposed to watch now? That show ate up my days off for like a month. I binge watched. Now what? Tanks.
He stared at the train tracks, not really sure what he was seeing. Nothing was registering at that moment, nothing made sense. What was he supposed to do here? There was no guidance, no instruction. He was expected to just know. How was that fair? Frustrated, he began to walk down the length of the tracks, not entirely sure where he was going, but ready for a change.
My little cousins Shylo and Maria have exceptional manners. My auntie Kim may not have a lot but she's done her best with what she does have, and if nothing else, those girls will grow up knowing their pleases and thank yous and charming the pants off of everyone and anyone they meet. I love them so much and I wish I could see them all more often.
I don't even know what to write. What am I supposed to write about a minute, in a minute? What am I supposed to say? I can't even. My brain has no words. I feel flustered. I think my boyfriend is no longer interested in me.
I really have no idea who the mayor of my city is. I feel like his name starts with an M but I'm not sure. I lied. There it is. Milobar. A little while ago there was a bake sale where people made their best dessert bars and the winner's bar was named the 'Milobar' in honour of the mayor. Kinda cheesy. I have no idea who won.
I won't lie to you. I don't know what I'm supposed to write about the word 'architecture'. Architecture has always kind of fascinated me. The way buildings go up, how they are built. How they are designed, especially. I could never name a famous architect or point out his work, but I could definitely look at a building and say, Wow.
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