dbot
14-03-07, 02:55
i just wrote for about 20 minutes, and i wanted to show somebody, and since i frequent this place so much, i'd just put it here, because noone here will know who any of the people in the situation are.
He looked over at the mirror that took up a good percentage of space on the cabinet/desk/drawers thing. He actually didn’t know what specifically the furniture was called, nor did he really give two ****s.
Looking in the mirror, he noticed how long his hair was getting. Most other guys he knew, when their hair got long, it went down. His hair, however, went outward, or straight up, depending on its location on his skull. He needed a haircut, and he really needed it soon. He refused to wash his hair when it got this long, as it would always turn fluffy upon doing so. It had a way of sort of styling itself into a way he absolutely could not stand. At least when it’s dirty, he thought, it has some character to it.
He then noticed something sitting on a shelf that he hadn’t seen in so long. It was a picture of himself and two girls. The frame was not one he would have picked, but it was a present, so he had no choice. It was a frilly frame with red cloth, spotted with small white polka dots, all surrounding a cut out heart which itself contained the picture. In the picture, he and the two girls were dressed nicely, as it was taken during a band concert from high school.
Being in band in high school was easily one of the most important things he had ever done. It provided him with many friends, and even more experiences, as well as lots of stories to tell. But if band was the centerpiece to his high school experience, these two girls were the centerpieces to band. They were his best friends in band back then. He probably hung out with them more than his real, official best friends, who weren’t in band at all (although one joined up later). Whenever a hanging out was planned, he was overjoyed, and always attended. He didn’t dare miss an occasion involving those girls.
Times had changed, however, and his negative reaction upon seeing the picture indicated that. Since graduation, conversation with those girls had become less frequent. They had hung out once in the past six months, and like before, he was still glad to see them, although certainly not with the excitement he once had. The evening was rather bland, as a friend of theirs but not of his was there that night as well. Almost all the girl’s attention was focused on this guy, and his escapades with drunken friends, and how it involved their own drunk stories.
Leaving that evening was far easier than it had ever been in the past.
Other attempts at communication with the girls had also fallen flat. Online messages apparently went ignored and usually went unanswered. Even when he wasn’t looking for a long conversation, but a simple answer to a question, he usually received no response. Perhaps they had good reasons, but to him, it hardly mattered. It all came off as personal to him, even if it wasn’t.
“…**** you, man…” he quietly muttered with a disappointed scowl which he saw in the mirror.
He looked over at the mirror that took up a good percentage of space on the cabinet/desk/drawers thing. He actually didn’t know what specifically the furniture was called, nor did he really give two ****s.
Looking in the mirror, he noticed how long his hair was getting. Most other guys he knew, when their hair got long, it went down. His hair, however, went outward, or straight up, depending on its location on his skull. He needed a haircut, and he really needed it soon. He refused to wash his hair when it got this long, as it would always turn fluffy upon doing so. It had a way of sort of styling itself into a way he absolutely could not stand. At least when it’s dirty, he thought, it has some character to it.
He then noticed something sitting on a shelf that he hadn’t seen in so long. It was a picture of himself and two girls. The frame was not one he would have picked, but it was a present, so he had no choice. It was a frilly frame with red cloth, spotted with small white polka dots, all surrounding a cut out heart which itself contained the picture. In the picture, he and the two girls were dressed nicely, as it was taken during a band concert from high school.
Being in band in high school was easily one of the most important things he had ever done. It provided him with many friends, and even more experiences, as well as lots of stories to tell. But if band was the centerpiece to his high school experience, these two girls were the centerpieces to band. They were his best friends in band back then. He probably hung out with them more than his real, official best friends, who weren’t in band at all (although one joined up later). Whenever a hanging out was planned, he was overjoyed, and always attended. He didn’t dare miss an occasion involving those girls.
Times had changed, however, and his negative reaction upon seeing the picture indicated that. Since graduation, conversation with those girls had become less frequent. They had hung out once in the past six months, and like before, he was still glad to see them, although certainly not with the excitement he once had. The evening was rather bland, as a friend of theirs but not of his was there that night as well. Almost all the girl’s attention was focused on this guy, and his escapades with drunken friends, and how it involved their own drunk stories.
Leaving that evening was far easier than it had ever been in the past.
Other attempts at communication with the girls had also fallen flat. Online messages apparently went ignored and usually went unanswered. Even when he wasn’t looking for a long conversation, but a simple answer to a question, he usually received no response. Perhaps they had good reasons, but to him, it hardly mattered. It all came off as personal to him, even if it wasn’t.
“…**** you, man…” he quietly muttered with a disappointed scowl which he saw in the mirror.