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Dreams of Cabaret_12
DREAMS OF CABARET
The entirety of Gerard's stay with us, we were inseparable! I could NOT bare to be away from him. I followed him every where; even on little rounds and odd jobs. I was intrigued, fascinated, astonished by this man. He was really something special. The way he worked was brilliant. He could sing, write, draw. The things his mind produced absolutely blew my fucking mind to pieces. And his personality: so charming, so sassy, so sweet...such a gentlemen! I was absolutely infatuated with him. Ryan knew this, and demanded a daily 'report'. I was more than happy to obligate him.
At present, I was heading up to Ryan's room- eager to share stories of BOTH our romances. Ryan jumped in surprise as I cracked open the door. He leapt for me, bringing me down to the cold floor.
"Hey" He greeted me coolly.
"Hey" I couldn't help but to laugh. A more than stupid grin, plastered across my child like face. But before I knew what had hit me; or rather, w
EVERYONE LOVES TWINKIES
Gerard and I were lounging on the couch, watching 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers'. A classic.A box of twinkies was propped on the coffee table next to my empty liter of coke. I was wearing my blue pullover and a pair of old, worn out tight pants. Gerard wore his denim jacket. His pants had a rather obvious rip right below his crotch. How could I not notice? It was so noticeable. I'm sure it's just coincidence that all his pants have a rip at the crotch.
Ray and Mikey had taken our little girls out for a few hours. Meaning, Gerard and I were completely alone, and I started getting a strong craving. Impulseive. Mind blowing craving. I needed it. I wanted the sticky, white substance on my tongue. I longed for the taste. I debated as to whether or not I should...Aw fuck it! GIVE ME SOME SUGAR!!!
I lurched forward, seizing the box. I tossed four twinkies, neatly wrapped in clear packaging, on my lap. I attacked one, ripping off the pla
Ryan had been staying with my family and I for about a week now. I couldn't complain. I loved having Ryan around, but I couldn't help but feel a little guilty. I felt as if I had taken the Ross' son. Even though it was, in fact, his decision to leave. I don't know. Maybe I was too soft. My conscious often weighed heavier than my ego. Well, what ego I did have.
I rolled over in my bed, Ryan was sound asleep. He looked so cute. I admired him silently as he slept. He needed his rest, so I didn't wake him. We both had been swamped lately. Prepping for college, taking exams, getting letters of recommendation. I may have failed to mention this earlier, but were seniors. So excuse me if I don't sound as enticing as I usually would. I'm under a lot of stress. You have no idea the pressure I've been under.
"Dum-du-du-duumdu-du-dum-duum. Pressure, pushing down on me, pushing down on you" I sang in a whisper. This caused Ryan to stretch and yawn. I dod
Dreams of Cabaret_prologue
DREAMS OF CABARET
By the time I was eight, I found it hard to sleep for fear of being consumed by my candidly lucid dreams. No, wait. Not dreams. Nightmares. The cause of all my fears and insomnia were, and still are, my father, George. He was a drunk. Still is, probably. Mixing his raw power with alcohol was often bad news for me. I had given up on defending myself, because if I raised even a hand at him, he would knock me to the taunting ground. So for years I was nothing. Just a limp, nearly lifeless, ragdoll of a human being. It took alot of time for me to finally convince myself into leaving that dysfunctional house. It was a struggle. Maybe one of my greatest. Surely not my last.
This is 19th century France. The cool fall is heading my way. I was sixteen when I left that house. I was seventeen when I first joined, 'Veines Jeunes', a French burlesque troop. It was a new experience. I got paid pretty decently. The place just got over crowded. Im newly nineteen
School Dazed_ch3SCHOOL DAZED
I told Ryan what had happened with Spencer and Jon. I then drove him home. I pulled up to his house. He looked at me. He seemed scared to leave me. "Umm...can I stay at your place tonight?" He asked. "Sure! I'll help you pack your--" "No! Wait here. I'll be right back" I did as he said. I waited patiently. I tried to think if my room was decent. I wasn't sure if I made my bed. Bed. Ryan. Ryan. Bed. Ryan would be sleeping in my room in my bed. With ME! Under the the sheets. Who knows what could happen. Anything could happen I was so ecstatic. My head felt like there were millions of unicorns stampeding about in my head, fucking farting rainbows!
I was so lost in thought, I didn't notice Ryan was back until he slipped in and shut the door. He threw three different bags in the back seat. "Lets go" He said. "What's with all the stuff?" I asked. "Running away from home?" I joked. He nodded, buckling the seat belt as I set the car in drive. I laughed, keep
Bo.When Lindsay was born, Bo was there. Standing beside her mother, he was the first thing she ever saw. But he was not her father; her father stood on the other side.
Bo was there until the very moment she died.
The sun shone bright through the windows of her pink-laden room. She loved pink. And black.
“Because Bo is black,” she’d told her parents.
Her imaginary friend, they soon concluded.
“Bo is all black,” she described one night as her father tucked her in, “His skin and his hair and everything. He doesn’t talk a lot.”
Her father frowned.
“He sounds scary.”
“He’s not,” she insisted.
Bo sat on the bed and said nothing.
Her father kissed her good night and turned out the light.
“Why can’t Dad see you?” she asked.
“Are you real?”
“Are you real?” he replied.
“How do you know?”
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