ndslotesse's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- My Getaway Dear Diary, Orange soda is good and I think some of it had spilled on the floor. Ooops. I am probably going to get in trouble again. Papaya tea candles smell nice, it smells like fruit trapped in a bottle. IS that possible? Yes, I do think so. My ring needs to be gold plated. Ma said she would gold plate it for me, so I wouldn't have the green rings around my fingers. They remind of how fake things are. I should take a shower. Not now though, not in the mood for a shower. Maybe later. I think I am speaking in fragments. I hope you don't mind. I can hear Lauryn Hill the backround. Someone is playing Lauryn Hill. It must be my CD because no one else had Laurn Hill in this house. My head hurts, I woke up late. I feel obligated to write in this block of white. This shouldn't be mandatory. It should be because I want to. I wish I were listening to music right now. It would be good for me. I can hear the faint murmmer and blurred sounds of the music playing downstairs. It must be my sister. This pillow is really soft. I am holding it and it feels like downy feathers. A lot of them. Covered in pink cloth. I like pillows. I have a childhood pillow. Little kids carry blankets, I carry a pillow. I am different. Her name is Blueberry because she is blue and there are flowers on her. King-sized and beautiful. She was my best friend. I would like to have a boat. But sometimes I feel isolated. I wonder if I could have one in a bottle, like the ones I see in the movies or in little coffee shops. I would like a boat in a bottle. ...and maybe a book in red velvet outlined in gold. That would be nice. I would like that too. With pages that whisper words of poetry. Pages that could read me bedtime stories at night when I am all alone in my room. I would like a book in red velvet outlined in gold. I would live in a small cottage house out in the country, if given the oppurtunity. I would run away to this place and every day would feel like spring. It would be small with wood and beige plaster. And maybe some brick too. There would be vines growing up along the sides, and all along the windows too. Everyday the entire area would smell like lemonade and apple pie and morning glories. There would be stones all along the house making a path and wild flowers growing inbetween the cracks. It would be so quaint, so perfect. It would be a country house. It would be a house made for me. The entire house would be filled with books. And I'd have the windows open so birds can fly in and out and sing me songs, that sound like whispering whistles of songs by Lauryn Hill. I'd be sitting out in the grass beside my path of wild flowers on a blanket with Blueberry behind my back against a tree. My gold ring would hang loosely on a chain around my neck to avoid the green rings. The sky would shower my entire body with soft drizzinly rain, and after the rain slowly started to fade with sun drying my body, I'd be reading my red velvet book outlined in gold about, a boat on the ocean, drinking my orange soda that smells like papaya tea. With care, 1:39 p.m. - 2002-12-27 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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