What do you get out of life?I am sick of being thought of as a spacy spaz who can't carry on a conversation. I am sick of people telling me that I am weird and immature and just plain dumb. I'm really not like that all the time. Seriously. But you know what? It's way easier to be ostracized from society because I'm a braindead monkey than to be ostracized because I'm a freak who scares every one half to death because I actually have oppinions on polictics and religion and philosophy.What do you get out of life?
But really, when you think about it, I'm supposed to be immature. If I wasn't, I wouldn't be having any fun in life. After all, that's what life is about, really. F
People Like Us: Ch. 1: Woken I stirred beneath the warm covers of my bed. Wait. MY BED? I sat up immediately, almost falling onto the floor. What had happened? How did I get here? The last thing I remembered was loosing consciousness in that stupid teen club downtown. Not to mention that freaky kid. Or....whatever he was. Almost without realizing it, I reached up to touch a slightly sore spot on my neck. I groaned in confusion and went to lay back down. Of course, just as I closed my eyes, a pillow chucked itself at me. Or, more like, some one chucked a pillow at me. I sat up again, blinking in confusion.People Like Us: Ch. 1: Woken
People Like Us: Prologue "Hey there, pretty baby." A man whispered in my ear. I giggled and danced closer to him. I was fifteen, tall, athletic, tan and had the kind of figure that most girls would die for. Shaking out my caramel hair, I was glad that I had worn my favorite perfume, the one that never failed to attract hotties. And I had. Unfortunately, I couldn't really see this hottie very well in the dim lighting of the teen club, but I got the impression that he was taller than I was, taller than most of the boys on the dance floor, with dark hair, dark eyes and very pale skin. Goth, maybe, or an Emo. Whatever he called himself, he wPeople Like Us: Prologue
Sunset
Random Word of the Day
Llama
