Sour Blond
2003-09-08 @ 8:18 p.m.

Twisting locks of your hair between my fingers, lettings solitary strands become loose, I feel an urge to pull. Hard.

Soft, long, blond hair, the hair of shampoo adverts that the television shoves down our throats. Curling at the ends, I slip my fingers between the curls, and I want to pull. Hard.

Laying your head on my lap, trustingly, if only you knew what went on in my mind. If only you knew what I was thinking, you probably wouldn't be so at ease.

Blonds, they say, have all the fun, but I'd beg to differ. Those who are around blonds have all the fun, those who can experience blonds have all the fun, for blonds don't seem to know any better.

...and I wanted to pull.

You laughed at some witty remarks made by the faceless man on the television, and I was revolted by your laughter. Having fun, Blondie?

...and I pulled.

The rest went sour from there...

Blondie doesn't seem to know how to have fun the way I do.

What a shame.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

This isn't about anyone in particular, I had to clear that up, because I know that certain people will assume that. No, this isn't about any one concrete person. No one.

Sorry if I offended any blonds.


Listening to: "Scared of Girls" by Placebo

<<before - after>>

The Weather Underground - 2008-11-12
- - 2008-05-06
She knows I can read. - 2008-05-06
William Jacobson - 2008-05-02
Lost Boys - 2008-04-30

everything © Claudia (2003-2008)