laurelreid

laurelreid

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The Waste Land by TS Eliot is one of my favorite poems. The different characters that appear in different verses all seem to suffer some sort of defeat. The poem takes a grim outlook on life - that it's all just kind of a waste land. People going about their everyday business, but nothing really matters in the grand scheme of things.

There she sits on her throne, cold and scared and all alone. And she tells me it's all just a wasteland. Should have swallowed my pride Before I looked into those eyes But she tells me like she's seen everything: Oh, it's just a wasteland It's just a wasteland Rivers of gold,

"Take it," he said, shoving the red cup in my hand. I wrinkled my nose. The beer smelled like gasoline. I'd never had any before, and I wasn't about to start now. "Ugh," I muttered, but feigned a smile, silently dumping it into the plant behind me when he turned his back.

drain

I stare down at my feet as the water swirls around the drain. Three, two.... a vortex washes around my toes and spins out of control down, sucking the water with it. Suddenly, I feel emptier than I had in days. Drained.

drain

I stare down at my feet as the water swirls around the drain. Three, two.... a vortex washes around my toes and spins out of control down, sucking the water with it. Suddenly, I feel emptier than I had in days. Drained.

So many possibilities arose from that night. We met by chance at the mall. Little did I know that he was looking for the same things I was--love, and someone to love. Later that night, over the phone, we found out just how similar we really were. From there, it was easy.

I feel glued to you like a magnet. Polar ends attract, and this much is true. You can't get enough girls, and I could be so happy with just one boy. You like action, I like romance. But if I were to lose you, I don't know what I'd do. We're so different, yet we go together so well. I have no idea how this works, but I'm not complaining.

The sun had only just set, but we already knew we were in for an adventure. Every night was something different. A bonfire. Songs. Hikes. And even though sometimes the activities repeated, the interactions were never the same. I was always surrounded by different people, ready to take our friendship in different places.

weeks

Here's to the weeks we spent together. You're all my best friends, I can't imagine spending the best weeks of my life with anyone else. Sure, a week can be a long time, and at times it was long, but when you're with your best friends, nothing really matters.

Microwavable macaroni is my favorite. If I could, I'd have it every day. There's something uniquely satisfying about pasta drenched in a thick, creamy, fatty cheese sauce that just makes me want to have more.

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writing since 2010 · 21 entries · 18 days shown up

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on this day 16 years ago

laurel wrote about discuss
“Why do I hate discussions? Well, it all started with the time he pulled me aside. "We need to talk," he said. I groaned, because I knew what was coming. He was going to break up with me, I knew it. A…”

the words laurel reaches for

differentnightcolorwatersuddenlyeyesraisesunsongsfavoritelovebestwastelandmuttereddestinymet