Friday, December 16, 2011

Paint the town.

Tonight I fell in love with a boy who let me buy my drink before he did.
Tonight I saw him them waved and told myself that I'd get his name or number before I left.

Tonight a boy hugged me.
'Who are you?' I slurred.
'I love you.' he said.
'That's really nice,' I replied. 'Give me a hug.'
So we hugged again then left.

Tonight I danced with a bearded boy as he spun me around and sung Adele badly.
'What do I do!?' I asked her.
I can't remember what she said but I didn't kiss him.

I kept looking for the boy I fell in love with all night but didn't see him again.

'Who was the guy you were dancing with?' he asked.
'The boy with the beard? I don't know!' I laughed.
'Did you kiss him?'
'No.' I laughed again.

'I hate you.' she said when we had to leave. 'You're not my friend anymore.'
'No you don't.' I said as we left.

(Not even sure what this is. I wrote it a few days ago at 3 a.m. after I had been out for the night haha)

Monday, December 12, 2011

Please give up on me.

I just want you to know that it wasn't for you. Since then it never has been. And I'm trying so hard to keep history from repeating itself, but even now I can see that it's happening. Is it so impossible for us to just be friends? I can't be friends with you without hurting you, and that hurts me.

I am not going to let this happen again.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011


It was my mother who decided on naming me Perdita. My father tried to talk her out of it, Jessica sounds nice dear, or how about Emily? But she just smiled at me and shook her head.
And so I became Perdita, but I preferred Perry. My father held onto the notion that once I was old enough I could change my name to whatever I liked. He told me so late one afternoon in May. Now Perry, he said taking both of my hands into his, You know that one day, when you are older and wiser and have seen more of the world, if you still don’t like your name, you can change it to whatever you like. I stared at his wrinkled, calloused hands, covered with an array of scars, going this way and that, they were a map of his life. Really? I asked him, and I looked up as he smiled down at me. Do you promise? I said to him with my chin raised, determination moulding my face into a pair of crinkled eyes and a firm mouth, just daring him to say no.
But he promised. And ever since then I’ve tried to figure out who I could be.

(This is something new. I've been having trouble writing lately, but I am attempting to change that and this is the result.)