Post by Icee on Apr 3, 2005 20:18:24 GMT -5
As I looked into the mirror, it was not the reflection I had hoped for. My hair was messed, my clothes hung from me, like I was a scarecrow. All I needed were the beady eyes and fake smile. And, as a matter of fact, I was rather good at my fake smile. I had grown accustomed to presenting it atleast 34 times a day.
Sometimes things fall apart, and that's expected. You need to carry the weight, and pretend as if you're life is a bowl of fresh banana muffins.
And that I did. It didn't bother me much that my life had been torn to peices, stamped on, and then embedded into the ground by the lords almighty fist itself.
Like I said, I was expecting this from the moment I was old enough to understand what this planet is, and how we're sposed to live exepted into a society and community, of dull, mindless...normal people.
But, as it is. No one's perfect. Not even a 20 year old broadway star at her prime. That's what I was, I guess. Or more rather, that was my image. A media image, created, written and sold by the media.
As if it wasn't bad enough growing up in this particular part of such a diverse, minipulate country. I longed for understanding, love and warmth. Just like any other sane person that walks the earth. Was it my fault? Perhaps I expected more than I should, I don't see why. After all, since the moment I was born I have been doing what I have been told to do. My name's Jasmine, A young broadway star, admired by the world. An international Idol for thousands of insecure, demanding teenage girls.
Anyway, that's enough about me. I'm telling a story here.
Still as I stared into my mirror, my glasses that covered my red bloodshot eyes did me no justice. Why so obvious? Why do I have to be so obvious. In fact, why the hell shouldn't I? I live, I breathe, walk and talk. And that I shouldn't be ashamed to show. I'm not in no way physically or mentally retarded, my thoughts drifted beyond me as I took of my dark, thick lenses.
My skirt, black also. Pleated, that was the 'hip' nowadays. My cardigan, first time wore. As usually with everything else I owned, and didn't have a clue about.
My long brown boots compliments my legs, and my thighs, which, in my head, I thought properly hadn't developed yet. But, that's all in my imagination.
I took a deap breath in, and exhaled. Covering my mirror in the steam of my hot breath. Today I would be carrying on as my usual self. Or, more my made out self.
I grabbed my small dark leather hand bag, threw in my perfume, and left the house.
It was freezing outside, frost had covered my car from top to bottom. My fingers immediately froze so cold I felt i could snap them off and begin throwing them at random passers-by.
But I thought best not to, and carried out my daily business.
I reached into my jacket pocked, searching for my keys. When I found a small, crumpled peice of paper.
"Dear Jay," I read.
"I'm sorry. Forgiveness is the key to a happy, successful future. I hope you find your key within me". The memories flashed back like fast spinning slide show.
Coincidental I was trying to find my keys as I'd found the note I'd to carelessly left lying about in my jacket.
"Hrmph" I grumbed, throwing the letter onto the ground, and burying it deep into the earth with my foot.
Letters such as these I had no time for.
I got into my car, and sped off down the road.
Once I got to the studio, my heart missed a beat. Why is beyond me. But, there's always a reason for everything.
Perhaps it was because I despised this place, everything and everyone about it sent a shiver down my spine.
I checked my reflection once more in my reflection mirrors.
I didn't look so bad after all.
My short, jet-black hair had given me the wind swept look, most likely because I had sped the whole way here with my car windows wound down. That is probably the reason I had lost most feeling in my face, it was covered with cold icey water.
My face was sort of... rounded. My eyes, a sparkling light blue. Though they were cold, and shallow I was complimented on them more than anything else about me.
"One more costume rehearsel" I sighed to myself, whiping my short side fringe out of my eyes.
I got out of my car, threw my hand bag over my shoulder and slowly began to walk up the dusty, wooden steps into the studio, when I was stopped by someone quite obnoxiously standing infront of me, preventing me from entering.
"What are you doing you moron, move out of my way before I let your face greet a nearby curb!" I growled without looking up.
"Jay!" The gruff, annoyed voice yelled at me.
I looked up, and to my suprise it was ...Oh dear.
I was startled, I stood there, silent. Waiting for him to speak, but he never did. He was eyeing me over. Looking for an explanation.
"Phillip, please. I must go inside, I'm late already, I had a tough night, trouble sleeping and all" I held my hand to my forehead, the migraine i had woken up with this morning wasn't helping me.
"I want to talk to you. Now." He crossed his arms, and stood firmly on the spot.
I couldn't puck up the courage to look at his face again.
The expression which he held was already tearing me apart. But it was something I had to do. And I needed to get it over with.
I grabbed hold of his arm, and pulled him around the side of the staircase, hidden from anyone going in or out of the studio.
"Please, make it quick" I pleaded.
"What's going on? Not answering my calls...not even my letters. I'm worried, for your health and safety." He looked deep into me. His eyes so full of dissapointment.
"You know how hectic my life has been lately. You can't expect so much from me" I blurted out without thinking.
"All it takes is a five second phone call. But.. there's no need. I've seen you now, you look fine. And.. I guess I'll see you when I do" He planted his hands in his pockets, shrugged and began to walk away.
Sometimes things fall apart, and that's expected. You need to carry the weight, and pretend as if you're life is a bowl of fresh banana muffins.
And that I did. It didn't bother me much that my life had been torn to peices, stamped on, and then embedded into the ground by the lords almighty fist itself.
Like I said, I was expecting this from the moment I was old enough to understand what this planet is, and how we're sposed to live exepted into a society and community, of dull, mindless...normal people.
But, as it is. No one's perfect. Not even a 20 year old broadway star at her prime. That's what I was, I guess. Or more rather, that was my image. A media image, created, written and sold by the media.
As if it wasn't bad enough growing up in this particular part of such a diverse, minipulate country. I longed for understanding, love and warmth. Just like any other sane person that walks the earth. Was it my fault? Perhaps I expected more than I should, I don't see why. After all, since the moment I was born I have been doing what I have been told to do. My name's Jasmine, A young broadway star, admired by the world. An international Idol for thousands of insecure, demanding teenage girls.
Anyway, that's enough about me. I'm telling a story here.
Still as I stared into my mirror, my glasses that covered my red bloodshot eyes did me no justice. Why so obvious? Why do I have to be so obvious. In fact, why the hell shouldn't I? I live, I breathe, walk and talk. And that I shouldn't be ashamed to show. I'm not in no way physically or mentally retarded, my thoughts drifted beyond me as I took of my dark, thick lenses.
My skirt, black also. Pleated, that was the 'hip' nowadays. My cardigan, first time wore. As usually with everything else I owned, and didn't have a clue about.
My long brown boots compliments my legs, and my thighs, which, in my head, I thought properly hadn't developed yet. But, that's all in my imagination.
I took a deap breath in, and exhaled. Covering my mirror in the steam of my hot breath. Today I would be carrying on as my usual self. Or, more my made out self.
I grabbed my small dark leather hand bag, threw in my perfume, and left the house.
It was freezing outside, frost had covered my car from top to bottom. My fingers immediately froze so cold I felt i could snap them off and begin throwing them at random passers-by.
But I thought best not to, and carried out my daily business.
I reached into my jacket pocked, searching for my keys. When I found a small, crumpled peice of paper.
"Dear Jay," I read.
"I'm sorry. Forgiveness is the key to a happy, successful future. I hope you find your key within me". The memories flashed back like fast spinning slide show.
Coincidental I was trying to find my keys as I'd found the note I'd to carelessly left lying about in my jacket.
"Hrmph" I grumbed, throwing the letter onto the ground, and burying it deep into the earth with my foot.
Letters such as these I had no time for.
I got into my car, and sped off down the road.
Once I got to the studio, my heart missed a beat. Why is beyond me. But, there's always a reason for everything.
Perhaps it was because I despised this place, everything and everyone about it sent a shiver down my spine.
I checked my reflection once more in my reflection mirrors.
I didn't look so bad after all.
My short, jet-black hair had given me the wind swept look, most likely because I had sped the whole way here with my car windows wound down. That is probably the reason I had lost most feeling in my face, it was covered with cold icey water.
My face was sort of... rounded. My eyes, a sparkling light blue. Though they were cold, and shallow I was complimented on them more than anything else about me.
"One more costume rehearsel" I sighed to myself, whiping my short side fringe out of my eyes.
I got out of my car, threw my hand bag over my shoulder and slowly began to walk up the dusty, wooden steps into the studio, when I was stopped by someone quite obnoxiously standing infront of me, preventing me from entering.
"What are you doing you moron, move out of my way before I let your face greet a nearby curb!" I growled without looking up.
"Jay!" The gruff, annoyed voice yelled at me.
I looked up, and to my suprise it was ...Oh dear.
I was startled, I stood there, silent. Waiting for him to speak, but he never did. He was eyeing me over. Looking for an explanation.
"Phillip, please. I must go inside, I'm late already, I had a tough night, trouble sleeping and all" I held my hand to my forehead, the migraine i had woken up with this morning wasn't helping me.
"I want to talk to you. Now." He crossed his arms, and stood firmly on the spot.
I couldn't puck up the courage to look at his face again.
The expression which he held was already tearing me apart. But it was something I had to do. And I needed to get it over with.
I grabbed hold of his arm, and pulled him around the side of the staircase, hidden from anyone going in or out of the studio.
"Please, make it quick" I pleaded.
"What's going on? Not answering my calls...not even my letters. I'm worried, for your health and safety." He looked deep into me. His eyes so full of dissapointment.
"You know how hectic my life has been lately. You can't expect so much from me" I blurted out without thinking.
"All it takes is a five second phone call. But.. there's no need. I've seen you now, you look fine. And.. I guess I'll see you when I do" He planted his hands in his pockets, shrugged and began to walk away.
It's marvolouse!
