Me

a story I wrote at 15...Dirt doesnt grow, you know Isaac? I looked up. Verona stood there, her black and blue hair swept across her forehead, hands on hips, wearing jeans and a black t-shirt. I know. I was just thinking I replied, amused at how she just crept up. Silently. She shrugged the reply off wheres Jason?a story I wrote at 15...
I looked out over the hillside. Dunno. He headed off after school with some friends. Jamming or something... I heard her walk away, probably with that disinterested look on her face. Verona wasnt my kind of girl. But she was obviously good enough for my brother.


a storyThis is my undoing, my unfortunate end. A mere slip of my mind and my own weakness led me to the jail cell where my last days will be spent, alone, after a seemingly successful venture.a story
For 3 years I worked at an office block, an editor for a newspaper. My job was dull, mainly fixing up articles that sloppy journalists had written and left to the last minute to check over, but my boredom of the tedious job was soon ended by a girl who began work at the opposite office building. She was my age and very pretty. Often I had watched her working from my own office through the large windows of our buildings. I thought she was quite beautiful
Liking Deviant Art so far?
I kinda borrowed the quote from your door for my signature. Hope you dont mind.
xoxo
J.
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A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.
- Oscar Wilde
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Dare To Be Yourself...
My Gallery / My Prints
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