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| Penname: | Miss Misery [Contact] |
| Member Since: | 2005.02.07 |
| Real name: | Jessica |
| Stories Posted: | 1 |
| Reviews Posted: | 51 |
| A Favorite Author of: | 3 members |
| Favorite Stories: | 33 |
| Favorite Authors: | 2 |
| Where to begin? I was born, I grew up and here I am now. Not nearly ripe but almost rotten at the not-so-angsty age of 18. I can't like a boy, only a man. And thus I stalk the older people. The man who cleaned the carpet today, the guy who works at the movie place, the drummer in that one band. You know who I am talking about. Even though I have lived 18 years, I do not look it. I look merely 15 and thus it is quite hard to find the penultimate May-December relationship that I so desperately desire but perhaps do not need. So, I stay awake at night and I ponder. I think of what life would have been like had I stayed in Maine. Had I been born in Maine. Would it even have been me? The first girl in my family in 65 years. I feel so special and yet so achingly alone. I think of what life would have been like had I saved up enough money to go the that concert across the states and met the boy-ish man who sings and plays piano. I wonder if he would have fallen head-over-heels for me. Taken me by the hand and said, "I love you. Never leave me." I would have cut out a heart out of a white piece of paper and written his name on it. I would have said, "This is my heart and it belongs to you." And for days and days to come, he would have kept it with him in his wallet, shown it to our children and said, "Son, this is when I fell in love with your mother." The paper would look ancient. Crinkled, stained but still clearly in the shape of a heart and his name would stand out more than anything. It would have been that great love you see in movies. But this time, it would've been real. There is no use dwelling on a nonsensical fantasy. So, I live day to day trying my best not to dream so hard of a life so far from this one now. Because it hurts worse than you could ever imagine. I'm in a prison in my own body, soul and mind. But, I've stolen the plastic spoon and I'm starting to dig a tunnel out. A Letter of sorts: It began with vodka. My first love. Had a kick like a mule in my Gatorade but also caused many a night of love making with the toilet. Still, your name rolls off my tongue and through my fingers in joyful retrospect: Stoli, Smirnoff, Popov... Then came whiskey. Dangerous Mr. Johnnie Walker Red and ginger ale. How I loved you so. With you I remembered Elliott Smith and danced in the back room. You never made me sick. You were warm and smooth. But caused me to drunk dial much too often. And now you, Mr. Southern Comfort. Like sugar and gasoline, you light my fire. My courage and confidence in a 100 Proof bottle. You keep me warm and fuzzy, amusing and uber impressive. For a girl to dominate 2/3 of you in one night without going blind deserves an award. Although there have been many one night stands with Miller Lite, Heinekin, Corona and that rat bastard, scumbag Bud Lite, but you, Mr. SoCo and Dr. Pepper, I would have no other. <3 /hXp\ | |
| Stories by Miss Misery (1) | Favorite Stories (33) | Favorite Authors (2) |
The Elusive by Miss Misery   [Reviews - 23] Hermione is sent on a mission, by the Ministry of Magic, to find Snape after his disappearance at the end of the War.
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