Desolation Row

Oh fucking hell did he really just follow me home?

"did you just follow me home?"
"yep"
"why?"
"I want to talk to you" yeah well I've been wanting to talk to you for a little over 2 years now.
"why?"
"because you look" His voice drifted away but I swear I heard the word 'familiar'
"soo...can I come in?"
"NO!... uh I mean noyou can't"
"okay......then I'll just sit out here and talk to you until you do"
"dude just go home"
"you know most girls would be freaking out right now, it's not everyday that you find a famous person sitting outside your door willing to actually talk to you"
"Well I'm not most girls then" What the flippin fuck was he even doing here. Someone just stab me please.
"Whats your name again?"
"none of your business"
"oh well in that case 'none of your business' my name is-"
"yeah yeah, I know your fucking name"
"woah calm down there 'none of your business'"
"Stop calling me that"
"what? your name"
"its not my name!"
"then what is your name?"
I paused for a bit, wondering about telling him my name. Not my real name obviously .

"umm it's Helena"
"did you just make it up? whAT the actual fuck. Does he know? He probably knows by my voice. Oh fuck how could I forget about my voice.
"NO"
"Where you from Helena?"
"Florida"
"No you're not"
"yes I am"
"your accent is like mine, you're from New Jersey aren't you?"
"no"
"sure whatever you sayyy" ugh who the fuck does he think he is? Well at least I know he hasn't changed his attitude, jesus.
"could you, I don't know, maybe leave?"
"Yeah sure you must be tired"
Really that's all it fucking took to get you to leave? goddamn. I got up off the floor and made my way back to my bed.
"but I'm coming back tomorrow whether you like it or not."

Oh that's just fucking wonderful.

Notes