All I Ever Wanted... A Valentine's Day special.

And there she was, with her beautiful pale skinned face and her strawberry blond hair up in a bun with tiny curls falling on her forehead. She simply took my breath away, sank my heart, and brought hues of red to my hot cheeks before I could draw the slightest gasp.

It was Wednesday night and her eyes were as green as the forests, and they glistened ever so radiantly. What was I supposed to do? Look at her brush her beautiful long hair in her room across the yard, wishing that I could somehow be smelling her perfume up close? My eyes began to hurt, they were strained by looking into the telescope for long periods of time.

My parents had gifted it to me a year back, when I first started to lock myself in the basement. They said I needed a hobby that involved spending time out of the subterranean portions of the house. Who knew, the day I would open my window to set up my new gadjet, my eyes would set on the one living thing I could ever actually care about. Oh how I wanted to hold her, touch her seemingly soft skin, caress her tender neck, and slowly make my way down to her... What luck that the one I would from then on covet had moved right into the house next door.

I patiently waited by my window, watching them carry the boxes out of the U-Haul. She had her tresses in an effortlessy messy bun, it was absolutely exquisit. Her lips were coloured with the lightest shade of red, but it was enough to pop on her snow white skin. I guessed right then and there that I would have to use my telescope for other purposes than just cosmic curiosity. That night, I patiently waited on my bed, my palms were sweaty and my heart was beating insanly fast. I wanted to jump through the night and barge into her room, pin her against the wall and slowly run my nose on her pale skin, taking in her essence. But I had to resort myself to getting up and going to the window and setting the telescope to point toward her room. How foolish of her- yet lucky for me- to beleive the neighbours to be innocent gentlemen while she undressed herself. She revealed her luscious flesh that made my blood boil in my veins, I had completely isolated her from the rest of the world. I could peak into her room, focus on her flawless body, zoom into her porcelin skin, and even feel the blood being pumped into her arteries. As I watched, my obsession grew inside me, never have I wanted something so badly. Yes, I know what I said; I have never wanted something so badly.

For the next few nights, I watched her meticulously. She was on the phone, talking to her friends about having the house to herself over the weekend. She twirls her hair when she giggles, she watches herself in the miror and points out her flaws- how wrong of her, acusing that perfect body with unfouded flaws. She was unhappy with her breasts, she would hold them and sigh, and I would watch and gasp softly everytime she would take herself in her hands. How I wished it were my hands instead of her own, I could have known how to appreciate that body, treating it with the amount of love and respect it truly deserved. She had the audacity to pick flaws on the divine creation that was her body. Rage flowed through me, I could not take it any longer.

Monday morning, her parents came over. Her mother was in tears, and her father could not even bring himself to speak. When I went down to the living room, I inquired about what had happened. The mother's grey lips quivered as she recounted last night's events: pieces of her daughter had been found on her bed. I feigned to be shocked; it was the right thing to do. I offered my condolences and quickly retreated to my room. The woman was shedding tears for an ingrate.

I closed the door behind me, sat at my desk and ran my fingers through her hair. It was so soft, it was perfect. I pinched her cheeks; sadly they did not turn red like I hoped they would, but I expected as much given the lack of blood in them. I changed the towel on my desk that was saturated with blood and replaced it with a new scented one. I coiffed her hair beautifully and glued her eyelids back to see her beautiful green eyes-now slightly grey- look directly at me. I got to my closet and brought out the luscious breasts she could not love, and placed them on my desk right in front of her face. I sat down and gently placed my hands on the soft spongy mounds and closed my eyes for a while, and stared into her eyes again. And there she was, with her beautiful pale skinned face and her strawberry blond hair up in a bun with tiny curls falling on her forehead. She simply took my breath away, sank my heart and brought hues of red to my hot cheeks before I could draw the slightest gasp.

Why blog?

Hello!

First off, wow! I never thought I would be sitting on my chair and actually sending my thoughts to the vaste ocean of online surfers. But here I am!

Sometimes I (I'm pretty sure it's not just me but most of today's teens and young adults) feel that it just keeps getting harder and harder to completely open up to someone. I mean, there are so many things we need to talk about, I don't know about you, but I could write a book!! However, I don't want to seem like someone who needs constant attention, or someone who needs to express every single minute detail of their life. So I found that the pros of having a blog, a little piece of your mind in the enormous world of data collection, is to be able to type up how you feel, what you think, without ever really expecting people to read it!! I know it sounds pointless, but it actually makes sense! NO PRESSURE!

So let's see, when you know someone for a while, let's say your best friend, you automatically make an image of yourself in her/his mind, that image molds the character you play in her/his life. It's not only your best friend, it's your parents, your siblings, basically your so called "entourage".

Just think about it, you get invited to a party where you know no one. You enter the house/restaurant, they all oggle at you like prejudice-hungry-voltures, trying to place you into their little stereotype table (and you thought they exagerated Mean Girls? WRONG!) with every other fresh meat at the party. The first five minutes you spend in front of them will determine the way they will look at you for THE REST OF YOUR LIFE (unless you do something really unexpected, good or bad).

Unfortunately, I was exposed to this categorizing event at a very early stage in life, I was about 6-7 years old, so young, so innocent. I didn't mind leaving my parents alone to enjoy their grown up time, I ate my food when I was told and didn't fight with the other children. The voltures were of course very impressed with my display of autonomy and maturity; and before I knew it, the new word on the street was that I was the reliable kid. It only got worse afterwards. My academic highs made people talk, they were all interested to know where I was studying now, where I was planning to apply later and my study habbits. While parents idolized me, kids, not so much :( So here I am, protraying the image of the perfect daughter, sister, student, tutor and even mentor (seriously!!???). How was I supposed to know that Perfection was out to bite me in the ass!?

When people say "life goes on" or even better "time flies" they have no idea just how much truth lies in those wise words! With the everchanging time, and with life on the racetracks, I was changing every second and racing my way through life like an olympian, putting my future goals before anything. So when I realized I should slow down and enjoy my youth while I still had time, IT FELT SOO GOOD!! To me at least, I can't say how everyone else would feel. See, there's the other point, where I come from, IT'S ALWAYS ABOUT WHAT OTHER PEOPLE THINK ABOUT YOU!

Your friends are supposed to accept you for who you are and only judge you when it's funny (code of friendship ;P) But there is only so much that you can tell anyone about yourself; human nature extols you to think, thinking extols you to judge and so you can't help it. So when you open up to people, you should never expect them to take you the way you are 100%. You're like the transfered energy, you are never transfered a 100% to the next medium, there is always a loss somewhere along the line. Same with acceptance, there is always at least a 10% (sometimes it's a crutial 10%) that is lost and replaced by the person your listenner wants you to be. Complicated much? YES!!

So I don't want that, I don't want anyone to feel pressured to understand me. I don't want to be the Da Vinci Code to anyone's Tom Hanks. And what better way to let it all out without "expecting" anyone to care than to write a blog? :)

Geez! I did not expect the first entry to be this long! Haha, but I had to get it out there!

BTW!!!: It's not that I don't care about what you might write to me, your comments are totally appreciated, I just find it easier to take criticism from strangers, because honestly, I don't expect anything more.