Diary of a Stalker: Entry 1

Monday, April 8, 2013


Today I met the One. Or rather, I saw her and then later imagined meeting her.

I had just walked out the door of my tediously boring Biology 1 class and was headed straight for the lunch line when I crashed into somebody. Now naturally, when you’re only 5’2’’ and the rest of your school is somehow so pumped with testosterone that they’re all 6 foot even, you tend to only be able to see other people’s stomach, waist, or what lies just below… And who wants to see that? So, as the only alternative available other than looking up and exhausting my neck muscles, I choose look down at the legs and feet of my peers.

As a fact, you can tell a lot from what people wear on their lower appendages. For example, a skirt following dress code implies that the girl is a little uncomfortable with the idea femininity and has been forced into the ideal because of certain circumstances. A skirt just barely passing the mark implies that the wearer is very comfortable with femininity but still maintains the belief that the dress code will always be enforced. As a side note, this is absolutely not true. Finally, a skirt that most definitely does not comply with dress code, and very possibly not with the purpose of covering the lady parts either, implies that the girl is, well, promiscuous, to put it lightly. This was the type of skirt Amy Pemperwinkle was wearing on the day that I “met” her.

Once again, I was looking down, which is a surefire way to not see where you’re going and maybe, possibly, definitely run into somebody. It just so happened that that somebody would be Miss Pemperwinkle. If I recall correctly, she was sporting a high-waisted skirt with a very high hem and printed with pink and coral floral patterns. Her choice of shoes was a pair of simple tan ballet flats—quite fitting, if I may say so myself. As was her whole outfit, so obviously, my eyes were naturally drawn from the forest of denim-clad legs to her stunning clothes. And with my eyes followed my body. And that is how, I assume, my face came to be in contact with her stomach.

Admittedly, the moment I saw Amy, I didn’t exactly like what I see. The layers of blush and eye shadow naturally repelled me. But later, as I thought about how her face looked under all that makeup, I came to realize that without it, she would be quite beautiful. And so I’ve submitted myself to finding or taking a picture of her without her makeup, and when I do, I will be able to approach that repulsive mask of artificial ingredients and drown it out with the image of her magnificently clean face and finally meet Amy Pemperwinkle.

Loneliness

            There was once a girl who was shy and quiet. She dressed conservatively in baggy clothing, as if to hide her self from the public eye. She was a girl who was slightly cynical and very worrisome. This girl had habit of analyzing people’s personalities and picking out things that she didn’t like about them. She would build a façade around her dark character to make friends, but carelessly drop it when too caught up in a conversation. And eventually, those friends would walk away from her and never come back. She’d always wondered what it was. Why couldn’t she have a best friend, or somebody that had her same interests and thoughts? She could pick out the people in the crowd that were like that— two doppelgangers of each other.  Oh, how she’d wished to have someone like that.

            One day, the girl discovered something. She’d been having a heated discussion with a boy about school. And she realized that this boy was easier to get a long with than her other friends. So she became his friend, and he, hers. And she thought, maybe if she’d expand her limits of friendship, she’d be happier. So she tried to do just that. And tried. And kept trying. Eventually, it got the point where she had her own kingdom of friends. Yet, at the same time, she’d built a wall around her heart, so as to bulwark any emotions that could hurt her. This girl was so focused on making friends that she’d forgotten exactly why she’d made them. And so, this girl grew to lack emotions.

            In all honesty, the girl had only made friends to feel a bit more like she belonged. She’d had no ulterior motive or specifically cruel reason behind her actions. However, these friends didn’t realize that. And so, like her companions before, they walked away and never came back.

            So the girl cried. She cried a river tears that became an ocean that would eventually drown her. But one day, a boy walked up to her while she was crying in the park across the street. He asked her why she was crying. And she realized that this boy was the same boy as the one she’d befriended so many years before. She told herself that she could trust him. And so she told him her story.

            He didn’t believe her.

            She drowned in her ocean of tears.

Short Story

Michael made a mad dash for finish line, jumping the last hurdle in the process. He felt the strength in his legs and the heard familiar sound of the crowd cheering. Just in time, Michael thought, as he peeked over his shoulder to check out his competition. Looking back at who would finish second, he raised his arms in the air and smiled.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Joshua woke to the desolate cold air in his house and the midnight creak of the floor boards. He shook the sweat from his hair, trying to do the same to the reoccurring dream spinning cobwebs in his mind. Joshua didn't like dreams about his brother, who'd now gone off to college on a scholarship. Still, though, he couldn't help but wonder if that was really what Michael felt when he finished first in his races.

Running his hands through his hair and trying to forget about his brother, Joshua slunk down the stairs to grab a midnight snack. He turned on the lights, looked through the mail, and sipped a glass of orange juice, munching away at a brown-spotted banana.

Joshua picked up a large envelope and looked through the contents, too tired to realize what it was. He read the words at the top of the page aloud. "... Accepted on an academic scholarship." He stood in a chilly silence. He blinked. He took a step. Another step. Joshua slowly approached the staircase and began climb it. He took a left turn, opened the familiar stained door, and entered Michael's room.

Joshua made a 360 degree turn and kept turning until his eye caught his brother's trophy case. Medals. Gold, silver, gold, gold, silver, gold. Awards. Certificates. Accomplishments. All for nothing.

Joshua went back to bed. He slept silently and dreamed of Michael's fall from fame to a hospital bed. That night, Joshua cried.

LOOK QUICK!!!!!

GO TO THE WEBSITE- www.pen-artist.blogspot.com, SEE WHAT YOU THINK, THOUGH YOU MIGHT WANT TO WAIT A COUPLE DAYS, SO I CAN ACTUALLY POST SOMETHING!!!!
-PEN ARTIST

well if anybody bothered with this thing anymore, who knows? i might show interest. yeah that is pretty awful of me considering that i am one of the people who founded this website, blog, thing. But i mean really. Only 2 of us actually post on here and that stopped months ago. I am always wondering how the blog is doing, but then i realize, oh yeah no one ever even bothers with it. So anyway, 2 people posted then didn't, and the other 2 haven't even put up stories or anything! (sorry if you guys are reading this and get offended, you know who i mean) but obviously we don't pay much attention to this little failure of ours, so to the other 3 people that are supposedly sharing this blog with me... we should get rid of it. unless you decide to start writing again and you want to share it with our viewers... well all i can say is that i have almost completely given up, i will check in now and then, but i can't say i expect anything. i might just start my own blog. if i do, which means, when i figure out how, i might try and get the rest of our viewers to follow it. you never know it might be interesting enough for everyone AND possibly their friends, and other bloggers to follow. so all i can say for now is... GOODBYE!!!

Hi

If you are part of the minute amount of readers (so far three), yeah, well, thanks for sticking with our odd obsession with glitter lotion and vampirism for so long.

You probably did not get that. Yeah, read the first post.

Anywho, just wanted to say hi! So:

HI!

HalfWay

On the day I go to school,

I tie the ribbon in a foolish way.

The delicious fragility of this travesty

Has the teacher cross with me.

And for a moment I wish to be

Halfway across the world

Where we still laugh and wish,

Unlike here, where we are tethered

To the strict rules

And high expectations

Of our mentors.