March 22 2010

March 22, 2010.

I believe writing on a blog is much easier then sticking a piece of lead on paper and letting the letters turn into words, and the words turn into sentences, and the sentences turn into paragraphs and so forth.

My feelings for you are always differing. You're lucky my friend sticks up for you and points out why you did something because I wouldn't know what I would've thought toward this one Coccinelle. Knowing you has changed my life.

And that's not exaggeration.

Until I met you I wouldn't of known about the stability of self conscious. I wouldn't of had like the band who talks about the Blue Ridge Mountains over in Tennessee. I wouldn't of been able to get pass the weeks of moving to a town where fun is when you inhale the ingredients of herb and where on the weekends you fuck to have fun. You know I'm not this kind of girl.

The countless times in the dressing room of the Belk at the mall. Those were times I wouldn't do with anyone else; and those times are secrets, except the last time. The last time we both regretted, but the thing is, nothing happened.

My feelings for you Coccinelle(French for Ladybug), still grow. If they will continue growing I'm not sure of. Walking down stairs, my feet hardly making noises as they patted on the carpet and wood flooring of the opening front door to the tile of the kitchen, as my sisters exclaims to my father on something she wouldn't repeat, the drug dealing comes out.

"You want dad to drug deal again?" I say in confusion and annoyance.

Oh dear Lauren. You are my sister, I do care for you, but there's times when I just don't understand, don't think you understand the concept of life other then living it, something I'm trying to do.

"You have no say in this.", she says to me, her tan skinny body with long legs, hair brown and layered with no makeup upon her eyes looks different from my pony tail, pale skin, and peeks of red in my brown from previous dyes,"You're boyfriend is a drug dealer."

This I knew about, drug dealer he wasn't. He sold "Mary Jane" has many will call it for the reason of his sisters, with his mother being something of and, exotic dancer, countless nights of alcohol and her own Mary Jane, he looks after his little sisters more then a fifteen year old boy should. I explain.

"He sold weed I know, he sold it cause his friend gave it to him to cheer up, though he doesn't do week anymore so he sold it to get rid of it." Also true.

"You obviously don't know your boyfriend Alison because he just sold weed last week. He has weed in his book bag and his mom, a stripper, gave him the chronic to sell on the block."

This couldn't be true. His mom isn't that low to give her own son weed to sell, his friend asks him to sell weed and he doesn't. Or at least, I told him to tell me when he did, though this last time he didn't tell me.

"He doesn't sell weed Lauren, his mom doesn't even give it to him!"

The conversation went on as the lions ate the other information spitting out the things they thought they knew till the king settled them down telling them to shut up.

I patted back up stairs as your number was dialed by my fingers.