Can I Love Someone Older?
And We Meet...
It was another boring day at school. The usual, ‘bitch’ fight happened, between some random chick and some other random chick over some completely pathetic guy, who couldn’t be bothered to tell them to shut-up. The new kid in my class was hassled for their lunch money, again. People loaded me with more homework, more people wanting advice, more teachers wanted to talk; I was getting really pissed off with my school.
The bus ride home was...pleasant. I had my music on full blast. Drowning my sisters’ annoying voice, and everyone else making noise that wasn’t coming from my MP. I watched out the window, the sincere passing by was, I’ll just leave it at that. The walk home was boring. Just the usual walk here, then there, then poof, you’re at my place.
My home was nothing fancy, scratch that it isn’t anything fancy. A brick built, slandered house, out in the country. Big backyard, pool, pergola, the usual things, not that I’m out there much, I spend most of my time in my room writing ‘n’ listening to music, or I’m not the computer or laptop. I hate my life, and that’s the way I like it. I don’t care what other people think, and I don’t give a shit for what my parents say either.
So here I am, at home, on my laptop looking through people I can randomly talk to, to try and cure my boredom. OK I realize I’m not very, um how can I put this, I’m not really the ‘talk to one person forever type’ but I still like to have a conversation with completely random people, it’s really fun listening to what they have to say.
So here I am, on the laptop in my room, listening to Breaking Benjamin’s newest album, writing a new song...or story, whichever came first, and looking for some complete random, to become my next victim, (evil laugh). Only kidding, but I seriously am looking for someone to talk to. All my ‘so called friends’ are busy, but then again, who isn’t on a Friday night...Oh wait me.
As I come close to finishing, whatever I’m writing, I come across, my victim for the night. I click on their profile, and the first thing I spot is their name. It was so original, yet so random. “Yes, I have found my first victim” I had yelled. I was so happy, so I sent them a friend request, and started going through their profile. There was the basic info’, name, age, location, gender and their interests. I read it, and I became more intrigued. I had soon gotten two replies from him, O and his names Brendan Wayland by the way, one reply was the friend acceptance, and the second was a hello and that he would love to be friends with a smiley face.
I giggled and I started my random conversation for the night. During the conversation, I looked through his photos, and there was one, I absolutely fell for. It was a picture of him. He looked a little dorky, but then again he was in his school uniform. He has fiery red hair and looking close enough I could see some black tips in it, I clapped stupidly, but I continued to talk and look at his picture.
His eyes were what caught my attention the most. They are a mysterious brown; you know the kind that makes you want to look but can’t touch, I was so lost in his eyes, I forgot to reply and he thought I was ignoring him, so he went offline. I was sad but his last message sort of cheered me up. ‘Talk to you tomorrow, goodnight my lady’, I almost squealed, it was the first time someone had ever said something like that to me, I felt so special.
“Sarah Jasmin Thomas, get your ass here right now, or so help me you’re grounded for a month”, the yell was my mothers, and from the sounds of it, she didn’t sound too happy. I don’t really like my mother, she’s the totally opposite of me. She had dark brown hair, while my natural colour is a dirty blond; my hair had multiple shades of blond, red and brown. Her eyes were a light mix of grey and brown, while mine are a scary blue-green-black, and sometimes red is seen when I’m pissed. She as a...wider frame then me, but I’m not all skinny like a stick, I’m the middle type, curves in the right places, as my father would say.
I soon finished helping my mother, and went back to my room. I turned the laptop off, put it away, turned my music down, and got changed for bed. Usually I would just lie there, thinking about a new story, song or poems to write, but I couldn’t. That night all I could think about was Brendan Wayland. I couldn’t get his image out of my head. His handsome face, his mysterious eyes, just him, I couldn’t sleep, well not that I could sleep anyway, being an insomniac ‘n’ all, but with Brendan stuck in my head, I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep for a while. Yet it was that night, I actually slept since I was ten years old.
The bus ride home was...pleasant. I had my music on full blast. Drowning my sisters’ annoying voice, and everyone else making noise that wasn’t coming from my MP. I watched out the window, the sincere passing by was, I’ll just leave it at that. The walk home was boring. Just the usual walk here, then there, then poof, you’re at my place.
My home was nothing fancy, scratch that it isn’t anything fancy. A brick built, slandered house, out in the country. Big backyard, pool, pergola, the usual things, not that I’m out there much, I spend most of my time in my room writing ‘n’ listening to music, or I’m not the computer or laptop. I hate my life, and that’s the way I like it. I don’t care what other people think, and I don’t give a shit for what my parents say either.
So here I am, at home, on my laptop looking through people I can randomly talk to, to try and cure my boredom. OK I realize I’m not very, um how can I put this, I’m not really the ‘talk to one person forever type’ but I still like to have a conversation with completely random people, it’s really fun listening to what they have to say.
So here I am, on the laptop in my room, listening to Breaking Benjamin’s newest album, writing a new song...or story, whichever came first, and looking for some complete random, to become my next victim, (evil laugh). Only kidding, but I seriously am looking for someone to talk to. All my ‘so called friends’ are busy, but then again, who isn’t on a Friday night...Oh wait me.
As I come close to finishing, whatever I’m writing, I come across, my victim for the night. I click on their profile, and the first thing I spot is their name. It was so original, yet so random. “Yes, I have found my first victim” I had yelled. I was so happy, so I sent them a friend request, and started going through their profile. There was the basic info’, name, age, location, gender and their interests. I read it, and I became more intrigued. I had soon gotten two replies from him, O and his names Brendan Wayland by the way, one reply was the friend acceptance, and the second was a hello and that he would love to be friends with a smiley face.
I giggled and I started my random conversation for the night. During the conversation, I looked through his photos, and there was one, I absolutely fell for. It was a picture of him. He looked a little dorky, but then again he was in his school uniform. He has fiery red hair and looking close enough I could see some black tips in it, I clapped stupidly, but I continued to talk and look at his picture.
His eyes were what caught my attention the most. They are a mysterious brown; you know the kind that makes you want to look but can’t touch, I was so lost in his eyes, I forgot to reply and he thought I was ignoring him, so he went offline. I was sad but his last message sort of cheered me up. ‘Talk to you tomorrow, goodnight my lady’, I almost squealed, it was the first time someone had ever said something like that to me, I felt so special.
“Sarah Jasmin Thomas, get your ass here right now, or so help me you’re grounded for a month”, the yell was my mothers, and from the sounds of it, she didn’t sound too happy. I don’t really like my mother, she’s the totally opposite of me. She had dark brown hair, while my natural colour is a dirty blond; my hair had multiple shades of blond, red and brown. Her eyes were a light mix of grey and brown, while mine are a scary blue-green-black, and sometimes red is seen when I’m pissed. She as a...wider frame then me, but I’m not all skinny like a stick, I’m the middle type, curves in the right places, as my father would say.
I soon finished helping my mother, and went back to my room. I turned the laptop off, put it away, turned my music down, and got changed for bed. Usually I would just lie there, thinking about a new story, song or poems to write, but I couldn’t. That night all I could think about was Brendan Wayland. I couldn’t get his image out of my head. His handsome face, his mysterious eyes, just him, I couldn’t sleep, well not that I could sleep anyway, being an insomniac ‘n’ all, but with Brendan stuck in my head, I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep for a while. Yet it was that night, I actually slept since I was ten years old.