Magic Chef

Im tired, and headache-y. Yes. Thats a word.

Im stuck on this computer waiting for some AMAZING story line to get to me. My Creative Writing class is getting to me. I have NOTHING. I need something. I used to be so good at romances. Realistic Fiction. All that jazz...

This sample is actually way better than what Ive been doing. Its all thanks to degrassi. :) Its my own little fan-fiction of Claire and Eli. Just imagine. The gothic, smug, looks that could kill (literally ha, degrassi joke) Eli, and innocent Claire, that yearns to unleash her full potential, in brains and body ;) You go Claire!

She gripped the shirt on his back, and embraced him as he let his lips move up and down her neck. She shivered as his hands went under her blue blouse, warm and fleshy. Everything felt heated around her: her arms, her neck, her face. His breath caught hers, as they looked into each others eyes, full of lust, and undeniable love.

"Is this my reward?" she says.

"This is only a taste." He looks at her down and up, then putting his hands on her cheeks, pulling her closer, breaking their gaze and closing the gap between their lips. It was all exctacy to Claire, as he pulled his fingers into her curls. His jet black hair in contrast with Claires left the clashing colors brilliant in the sun.

Behavior vs Brain

I have a good friend named Emerson. Hes moving away for college in Colorado. Boy will I miss him, but I gotta say, some memories are best left alone.

Now is the only time I will spill the beans about our akward relationship...

He was a dork. This was my slutty time in life, where I pretty much wanted 'it' ALL the time. I would even do it with my friend the dork.
I was the reason he started smoking pot. It was his senior year, and from there, we got close. As friends.
Then he got to know my life. What I do. And he was a lot more interested. He started talking to me dirty over text. I'll admit I was totally turned on, but I knew that he never had the guts to say those kinds of things to my face. Let alone sober. It was his sobreity that left him so self-conscious and timid. It was because of that part of him that we never actually got to the dirty deed.

The day I invited him over, was the day our relationship with each other was never the same. He sat outside in his car, scared that someone would come home, and catch us. I told him there was no problem, but he was too lilly-livered. He drove away and came back. Still sitting in his car. He never got out, and there I was, waiting for sex. That was it, I wasnt in the mood. PAU.

He drove away, and I was ALL NUTTS. I called my good friend bitchin about him, and next time I saw him, HO MAN. Apologies, ALL DAY. Him tellin me he was so stupid, and he shoulda manned up, and how he wishes he could have a do over. He wants another chance, and I dont give it to him....

Ill miss that poor dork. But honestly, I'm kind of glad that, that memory is done and over with, never to be seen again....

Free Desert!

I feel really... tense. On the inside. My chest, pretty much.

My sister and I are waiting for my dad to pick us up for practice. Its the waiting that gets to me.
Look, you dont know my dad. And even though hes my dad, Im suppose to love him unconditionally in this family. But HELLO, im a normal teenager with angst. I drag my butt to the monument of ignorance called school EVERY year. I meet new people, new friends, new boys. You cant NOT think my hormones would lead me astray.

My father is no ordinary over protective dad. I have never had a sleepover. No boyfriend (officially), I've never been to the mall with friends.... No stuff normal teenagers get to do.
I want to DANCE! I want to run! I want to go to the beach with people I like!
I feel so caged in, its not funny.

I wish I took the road less traveled. Life is full of choices... I made the wrong one.
I ruined my own life, and because of that, Im making my way back into the heart of my father. I lost his trust doing the things I do and its so hard trying to get it back. Its like he doesnt love me as much as he used to. Even though I know thats not true, I know that its because he cant stand to think about the things Ive done.

Im sorry if my writing seems jumbled. I cant think. Im distracted, and usually writing helps me think... Just not today. I dont know if you can tell, but im sorta, kinda... depressed. Not really. I just feel down. And I still have that tense feeling in my chest, creeping up my throat. I should stop writing before I sound like an idiot. Shit, it might be too late...