{via}
She was not so sure what time it was. Or day. If she thought hard enough, she was fairly certain that it must be Friday.
She was standing on a roof overlooking Main Street. There was a menthol burning sickly sweet and caustic in one hand, the smoke curling up and into the humidty of her breath above her. She smiled at the sounds of the party beneath her, the sounds of breaking glass and slamming oven doors, clicks of lighters and the crashing waves of laughter and talk.
She didn’t feel like a princess anymore, the loneliness hadn’t passed, and her hands smelled like chili cheese fries.
She thought, “Maybe I am too old for this.”
And then realized it was Monday.
I love this. Seriously.
You’ll always be a princess to me. But awesomer.
You’ll find your pace soon, miss, I’m sure of it.
And you can always come live in my craft room if you need a weekend away.
I love the picture. I’m so jealous of the adventures your having!
Your fingers have smelt worse.
(But lets forget about that.)
*hugs*
I feel the same way some days.
Yeah, I know that.
I just discovered your blog ang Oh mon dieu, I love it !