February 1st, 2005

(no subject)

The fact that I have a tremendous writing portfolio means nothing to colleges, there is only this one chance to prove I can write. A massive attempt at a first impression, a lame prompt, and a limited number of words:

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Emotional Masochist.

Make note of these surroundings with me. I want eerie music and I want no words before it happens. I want you at the top of my stairs, and I want to feel so swept that I crunch my toes ever-so-slightly against the carpet while we kiss. I don't want it to be passionate, I want eerie. I want it to remind me of driving the back roads in the fog at night after having just watched a horror movie. I don't want beautiful, I want strange. I want to feel haunted by your hands and suffocated by their grasp. I don't want pleasing, I want neglectful. My smile will be chilling. These eyes harbor wickedness. My happiness ends in a phantom.

Become untouchable. Become my ghost. I want you, so disappear.