i can still smell
the shampoo
she uses in her
hair and it
reminds me of the time
that we were underneath the
tree in the park
and i took her hand
she looked into my eyes
and for just
a
split
second
i could imagine us
being together
"My hands are freezing."
She touched her hand to my face to show how cold her hands were, and, at that moment, images of others flickered into my mind, the other people who had touched my face, and ended up hurt, or hurt me, or I'm still hurting, or are still hurting me.
And I froze.
i can still smell
the shampoo
she uses in her
hair and it
reminds me of the time
that we were underneath the
tree in the park
and i took her hand
she looked into my eyes
and for just
a
split
second
i could imagine us
being together
"My hands are freezing."
She touched her hand to my face to show how cold her hands were, and, at that moment, images of others flickered into my mind, the other people who had touched my face, and ended up hurt, or hurt me, or I'm still hurting, or are still hurting me.
And I froze.
Once upon a time there was a guy who wanted to be able to spread his rants to the world. So he made a blog, and this blog sucked really bad.
He decided to use dA instead.
This is his story.
Current Residence: a cardboard box Favourite genre of music: Trandecentalist Favourite photographer: Mr. Pants Favourite style of art: imaginary Operating System: Applesoft MP3 player of choice: Ford Fiesta Shell of choice: snail shell Skin of choice: black