Writer's Haven (The Memoirs of a Samemalykate)

Jul. 11, 2009

I'm in a writing mood today...

I wrote this today. I'm not sure what the backstory is yet... but I like the girl character. Tell me what you think. It's a bit wierd.. but when is my writing normal? lol.

 

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  He looked at me, a queer gleam in his eyes. “How old were you?”

  “I was eleven. He was fifteen.”

  Murphy sighed. “Jeez, I’m sorry, girl. We guys can be real idiots sometimes. What happened?”

   I looked him in the eye. “I learned to grow up. Murph, I don‘t entertain silly romantic ideals anymore. I’m not looking for love, or chemical soup, or whatever you want to call it. I live day to day. I take affection and boyfriends because it gives me at least some semblance of security and it‘s expected of me, not because I particularly enjoy it. I hook up and I break up. I‘m not what you would call an average sixteen year old.”

  “Then what are you?” He wasn’t making fun like most adults would have. I appreciated it.

  “Honestly? I don’t know yet. I look in the mirror and see a teenager with too-pale skin, too-big brown eyes, and too-long brown hair. Some look at me and see a pretty, well-adjusted, nice teenager who sings at church and volunteers her time at the middle school youth group, leading games. Some look at me and see a moody, intense girl who writes poetry, reads fantasy, and has a needle-sharp wit she’s not afraid to hone on your blunders. Both would be right.”

  He watched me, that look still on his face. “What if I told you I don’t see either of those?”

  I laughed, a sharp sound to my own ears. “What do you see, then?”

  “Hmm. I see a smart, charming, witty young woman who has a lively personality and a temper to match. She can turn anything you say around on you; make you think, really think, about things you never wanted to before; and has no problems making her opinion known. I see a girl who’s slightly cynical but all caring, and while she may have a sharp tongue, she knows how to really listen. That’s what I see.”

  I stared at him, for once unable to come up with anything to say.

  “Curtain call, you guys, come on!” Tim stuck his head through the green room door, and everyone inside quickly put down what they were doing, heading out to the wings for the final bows.

  I was grateful for the interruption. My eyes had chosen that moment to start watering from the air-conditioner being so close and set on high. As we walked with everyone else backstage, I used the opportunity to wipe them. I wouldn’t want Murph to think I was crying.

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~Lyssa~

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This is my place to write as I please. Most of my posts are long, so beware, lol. Everyone is welcome. Hail to my fellow writers!

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