Pansy
I Can't Keep Running Away
I missed being Pansy.
Like all comforts temporary comforts, sleep passed and it was time to put on my big boy pants and wake up. Let’s be honest though, I would have never gotten up if it weren’t for my damned alarm clock. My dream forgotten, I had nothing to occupy my thoughts. Other than things I shouldn’t be thinking about. I rolled out of my bed and bent over my bed, shoving my head into my white pillow, and groaning. Then, like my annual morning I changed out of my clothes from yesterday, and put on jeans from the day before, but putting on a clean shirt. I don’t mind dirty jeans, but dirty shirts?-Ew. Just-ew.
I looked into my smudged mirror and grimaced-because damn was I rocking some serious bed head, but then I kind of smiled because, it was some impressive bed head. I giggled a little and walked into my bathroom, applying eyeliner and some smoky black eye shadow because today I felt extra “fuck you”-ish. I grinned at my raccoon eyes feeling accomplished and walked into the kitchen for a cup of coffee and maybe some soda after that because, I sorda wanted both right now. It is really hard to decide between my caffeinated choices. I wake up craving both.
As I started the coffee maker I began to feel my daily inspiration flood into me and I opened the drawer below the coffee maker and grabbed my sketch pad and my charcoals. The plops of coffee dripping and the beautiful sent accompanied my tired-ish inspiration. I flipped to a new page and began to draw. As always, I became so absorbed into what I was doing it took me a few minutes to notice that the soothing droplets were gone, replaced by the dishwashers white noise. I got up and walked to the coffee maker, making my cup of sex and sitting back down to my new piece. I really did love it. I began to shade and smudge taking little intermissions for coffee and wiping my black washed hands.
Finally, I finished and I sat back admiring my beautiful art. I was not a narcissist, but I know what beauty is, and this was. Smiling, and feeling fulfilled I put on my converse and walked out of the house, letting the cold autumn air greet me in little thrusts of wind. My hair went wild, whipping to and fro, and my leather jacket kept me warm from the gusts of air that poked like needles in my face. It felt good in a strange way. I had a habit of going outside in the morning and forgetting my smokes, so I grinned triumphantly when I pulled a crumpled pack of smokes and a lighter from my jacket pocket. Popping one of the little addictive suckers in my mouth, I almost choked because the dumbass I am, I put the cigarette in my damn mouth motherfucking backwards.
Jesus Einstein could you be any more stupid?
Guess I can because low and behold, the lighter is fucking out of fluid. I frowned and walked back home, my good mood ruined, and my pride injured. If I would have known that going home would be like putting lime in my fuming wound, I would have never gone home.
I opened the brown and creaky door walking into the nice apartment. I looked over at the table and smiled when I saw my drawing still sitting on the table in all its glory. The walk to the kitchen was fine, finding a lighter was easy, I got one puff of my cigarette before the little cherub himself comes strutting in the kitchen. “Hi Gerard!” He exclaimed all smiles. “Uh-hi…” I frowned at his smile and sucked in another breath of suicide. He leaned in avoiding my obvious “I am not even slightly into this” face. “Do I smell good?” he asked, grinning. “Err, yes?” I said, because really- he smelt like Axe and oh that was a good smell. “Mmm I just showered. He purred still inches away from me, his heat radiating to my body. “I didn’t wake you did I? I tried to be quiet” He smiled suggestively and I pushed him away softly. “Can you please stop?” I asked agitated “I don’t fucking like you, okay? Not to mention you are breaking the “Don’t fuck my best friend’s brother code” I mean can you not be so fucking provocative? It is not amusing Frank! I am not like every other person you have fucking screwed. I have emotions and I don’t want your fucking body.” I yelled. Frank took a step back, his back running into the island in the middle of the kitchen. From behind Frank, I heard Mikey’s voice say “And you G, just broke the “don’t be a judgemental asshole to my best friend” code. Nice work.” He said it in monotone, but I could hear the hurt and disappointment lurking in the edges of the sentence. I frowned and gulped down my tears welling in my throat and eyes. “No it’s okay,” Frank smiled, “He just doesn’t want me.” He stated. Then as he walked passed me he let his fingers brush my stomach as he whispered, “Yet".
Like all comforts temporary comforts, sleep passed and it was time to put on my big boy pants and wake up. Let’s be honest though, I would have never gotten up if it weren’t for my damned alarm clock. My dream forgotten, I had nothing to occupy my thoughts. Other than things I shouldn’t be thinking about. I rolled out of my bed and bent over my bed, shoving my head into my white pillow, and groaning. Then, like my annual morning I changed out of my clothes from yesterday, and put on jeans from the day before, but putting on a clean shirt. I don’t mind dirty jeans, but dirty shirts?-Ew. Just-ew.
I looked into my smudged mirror and grimaced-because damn was I rocking some serious bed head, but then I kind of smiled because, it was some impressive bed head. I giggled a little and walked into my bathroom, applying eyeliner and some smoky black eye shadow because today I felt extra “fuck you”-ish. I grinned at my raccoon eyes feeling accomplished and walked into the kitchen for a cup of coffee and maybe some soda after that because, I sorda wanted both right now. It is really hard to decide between my caffeinated choices. I wake up craving both.
As I started the coffee maker I began to feel my daily inspiration flood into me and I opened the drawer below the coffee maker and grabbed my sketch pad and my charcoals. The plops of coffee dripping and the beautiful sent accompanied my tired-ish inspiration. I flipped to a new page and began to draw. As always, I became so absorbed into what I was doing it took me a few minutes to notice that the soothing droplets were gone, replaced by the dishwashers white noise. I got up and walked to the coffee maker, making my cup of sex and sitting back down to my new piece. I really did love it. I began to shade and smudge taking little intermissions for coffee and wiping my black washed hands.
Finally, I finished and I sat back admiring my beautiful art. I was not a narcissist, but I know what beauty is, and this was. Smiling, and feeling fulfilled I put on my converse and walked out of the house, letting the cold autumn air greet me in little thrusts of wind. My hair went wild, whipping to and fro, and my leather jacket kept me warm from the gusts of air that poked like needles in my face. It felt good in a strange way. I had a habit of going outside in the morning and forgetting my smokes, so I grinned triumphantly when I pulled a crumpled pack of smokes and a lighter from my jacket pocket. Popping one of the little addictive suckers in my mouth, I almost choked because the dumbass I am, I put the cigarette in my damn mouth motherfucking backwards.
Jesus Einstein could you be any more stupid?
Guess I can because low and behold, the lighter is fucking out of fluid. I frowned and walked back home, my good mood ruined, and my pride injured. If I would have known that going home would be like putting lime in my fuming wound, I would have never gone home.
I opened the brown and creaky door walking into the nice apartment. I looked over at the table and smiled when I saw my drawing still sitting on the table in all its glory. The walk to the kitchen was fine, finding a lighter was easy, I got one puff of my cigarette before the little cherub himself comes strutting in the kitchen. “Hi Gerard!” He exclaimed all smiles. “Uh-hi…” I frowned at his smile and sucked in another breath of suicide. He leaned in avoiding my obvious “I am not even slightly into this” face. “Do I smell good?” he asked, grinning. “Err, yes?” I said, because really- he smelt like Axe and oh that was a good smell. “Mmm I just showered. He purred still inches away from me, his heat radiating to my body. “I didn’t wake you did I? I tried to be quiet” He smiled suggestively and I pushed him away softly. “Can you please stop?” I asked agitated “I don’t fucking like you, okay? Not to mention you are breaking the “Don’t fuck my best friend’s brother code” I mean can you not be so fucking provocative? It is not amusing Frank! I am not like every other person you have fucking screwed. I have emotions and I don’t want your fucking body.” I yelled. Frank took a step back, his back running into the island in the middle of the kitchen. From behind Frank, I heard Mikey’s voice say “And you G, just broke the “don’t be a judgemental asshole to my best friend” code. Nice work.” He said it in monotone, but I could hear the hurt and disappointment lurking in the edges of the sentence. I frowned and gulped down my tears welling in my throat and eyes. “No it’s okay,” Frank smiled, “He just doesn’t want me.” He stated. Then as he walked passed me he let his fingers brush my stomach as he whispered, “Yet".
Notes
Frank is a little bitch. Gerard is confused and awkward. Mikey is a genious.What's new?
I am holding a contest!
I am borrowing this contest from "Give Me All Your Poison"
You guys make me an OC, girl or boy to put in this story and I will choose one.
I want:
Name:
Age:
DOB:
Height: Ex: Short, tall, medium
Personallity:
Problem/secrete: Like OCD, ADHD, Dyslexia, etc. Nothing too very bad.
Appearance:
May the odds be ever in your favor!
@Mikey'sUnicorn
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@jacquimarie
Hey ya'll I got locked out of my account, but fyi I plan to re-write and polish P.S. Don't Write and Pansy on my new account!
8/18/15