Picture Frame Part Deux (The edited version.)

Beginning from a single point in the glass snaking cracks worked their way out creating a web of destruction. Once a shining smooth surface, it was now a treacherous landscaped marred by deep crevices reaching through to the other side. What was previously a unified whole was now, nearly shattered into countless pieces.

Beneath this devastated surface, moments from the past were still laying peacefully; those tranquil shots from a distant past: a creek luminous with the light of a late afternoon sun, a blazing sunset beneath an old bridge. Those pictures, taken to adorn the wall of a happy humble home; taken for longevity with no fear for the future.

As she carefully, slowly gathered the shards of glass she knew there would be nothing to salvage. After enough damage, no amount of repair can return something to how it once was. She scooped the broken pieces into a filthy old dustpan and carried it over to the trash. Pausing a moment, she looked at the pictures which had been dragged across the floor along with the glass. Scratched and dusty, she decided they were no longer worth keeping.

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Part 1

I am a connoisseur of pillows. A professional kisser. And an excellent identifier of last looks. I excel when it comes to flings and can not be topped for good byes. I’m the girl whose name you’ll never remember and whose face you’ll never forget. I am, and forever will be, confidently, unwaveringly, unabashedly – me.

In fact, I recently traveled more than 3,000 miles round trip to visit someone I had never before met in person. I mean, not to brag or anything, but I’m just that kind of girl. The kind of girl who can, and does, have the kind of adventures that other people can only dream about. Of course, the ride was horrible and long and boring and if I never see another corn field it will be too soon. And don’t get me started on what those silly boring square states call coffee. At least New England has the common decency to have Starbucks and Dunkin’ Donuts at every stop on the Thruway. I’m sorry but coffee out of a vending machine? Please. I’d rather fall asleep and drive off the road into a tree.

Speaking of coffee, I met Sohan for coffee the other day and oh my god, I forgot how sweet he can be when he wanted to. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s totally awful in bed, but he’s nice enough when I want a free muffin and coffee. Have you ever noticed how the nice guys who you want to have coffee with can never figure out what you want otherwise? If the conversation is great, that’s all you should ever do.

I like to think of myself as a collector of men. Each one is useful for something and you can never have too many. Obviously, some skills are more valuable than others and every once in a while you have to trade for a better one. For instance, every girl should have a massage guy. Preferably this is a guy who, for whatever reason, feels like he always needs to be rubbing one body part or another. Sure, you may have to put out to maintain him, but head to toe relaxation is totally worth it. Then there’s the guy who knows things about cars. Talk to him like you’re one of the guys and he’ll probably be willing to at least talk you through whatever you need to know. Then there’s the tech guy. Invite him over once in a while and he’ll just start to play with your computer because that’s what he likes to do. The position of tech guy is, conveniently, easy to fill these days since apparently every guy who’s ever touched a computer seems to have learned how to fix them via osmosis or something. Finally, that brings me to the guy you talk to about your other guys. He should be somewhat feminine and definitely not someone who has ever seen you naked.

Daniel.

There are so many ways that someone can exit our lives. Sometimes it’s slow; so slow and gradual that they leave without notice, barely rippling the surface as they sink into the past. Those are the people who over time lose touch as one missed phone call becomes another until eventually neither person bothers to dial a number. Unfortunately, Daniel was not such a person.

Ask any woman and she can tell you about that guy she brought home who, before opening his mouth, made her mother cringe. We all have one and he was mine.

Picture Frame

Beginning from a single point in the glass, snaking cracks worked their way out creating a web of destruction. Once a shining smooth surface, it was now a treacherous landscaped marred by deep crevices reaching through to the other side. What was previously a unified whole was nearly shattered into countless pieces.

Beneath this devastated surface, moments were still laying peacefully; those tranquil shots from a distant past: a creek luminous with the light of a late afternoon sun, a blazing sunset beneath an old bridge. Those pictures were taken on a romantic and impulsive day-trip to adorn the wall of a happy humble home; taken for longevity with no fear of the future.

As she carefully, slowly gathered the shards of glass she knew there would be no return. After enough damage, no amount of repair can return something to how it once was. She scooped the broken pieces into a filthy old dustpan and carried it over to the trash. Pausing a moment, she looked at the pictures in the pan which had been dragged along with the glass. Scratched and dusty, she decided they were no longer worth keeping.

Tomorrow, she would buy a new frame.


WoW 1

I sat staring at my screen, silently begging him to log on. Taking another bite of my pizza, I impatiently tabbed out to check my Facebook.

Anyone who spends enough time playing MMOs would agree that after a while, you wind up just killing time while waiting for people to log on. When a friend convinces you to spend the $29.95 for the original game, that same friend fails to mention how, after enough time has passed, that game will become your entire circle of friends; that for $29.95 you’re buying a niche culture: a ticket for admittance into a society unto itself.

That being said, I absentmindedly scrolled down my feed, not really paying attention to the self-absorbed status updates of my friends, the random declarations or various links to videos ranging from strange to informative to disgusting or entertaining. I just wanted him to log on. My entire conscious will was focused on urging his name to appear in the bottom left hand corner of my screen.

I sighed deeply, typed in the address for Pandora and tabbed back into my game. Pressing the “o” button I opened my friends list to see if he’d logged while I wasn’t looking. No luck.

[Guild][Markiemark]: anyone wanna do nething
[2.Trade][Herburgers]: Anal [Force Strike]
[2.Trade][Sheasdamon]: Anal [Thunderclap]
[Guild][Zoghsleak]: id do your mom
[Guild][Peadasdf]: Dude, you don’t wanna do his mom. Believe me. I’ve seen her. I’ve see crack whores who look better than her.
[2.Trade][Chromiumdelta]: anal [Tranquility]
[Guild][Candienziia]: lol it’s prolly true…
[Guild][Candienziia]: i mean, we know what she produced
[John Smith] (Conjulamo) has come online.

Finally. He was on.

Please feel free to submit any comments. I probably won’t continue this since it doesn’t have much viability as a story, but I felt like I needed something to get me started. Thank you to whomever may read this. :)