pretty.

I miss my best friend.

Rain drops

Im sat in my room,
listening to the raindrops on my window
and i thought of you

Your voice sounds like the rain
melodic
soothing
yet it can get annoying

You look like rain
Clear
Transparent
honest
No false pretences.

You act like the rain
Cold
Repetitive
Irritating
Yet i still want you around.

Im sat in my room
listening to the raindrops on my window
and all i'm thinking about is you.

Its not you. It's me.

WOULD LIKE TO POINT OUT THIS IS A GUYS PERSPECTIVE.

Diary entry: 20/10/10

'Childhood sweethearts.' Thats what everyone called us back at Sixth Form. We were the 'Childhood sweethearts.' I remember what it felt like to be associated with that forgotten label.
In our younger years, holding her hand made my day. However kissing her was such a big step. Completely out of the question. Unheard of even. We would share our pack lunch's in the noisy refectory. Occasionally Indulge in kiss chase in the playground. She was the only girl I intended to kiss, despite the fact she used to chase Charlie Smith, but I knew She would come back to me. We used to play in the field by your house. Fighting, laughing, quite literally rolling in the mud. She never cared about her hair, or make up. I guess her vanity grew as well as her age.

Anyway, childhood sweethearts eh? We were inseparable at Sixth Form. I would be there before class, after class, even during class if I was lucky enough. We kept the tradition of sharing our lunch. But I remember the day you decided to sit with your friends, and I remember her punching my stomach with the casual line 'It's just for today, I promise.' She was so unaware. So naïve to the enormity of her actions. We were still childhood sweethearts in the eyes of our peers. We still walked the halls hand in hand, would go to the field at any given opportunity, were constantly smiling and laughing in each others company. Not one day did I spend without her by my side. The lads would scoff, make faces and call me a 'wetty.' I was a wetty; a wetty in love. The thing is i'm still in love. It's not a joyous love. it's dark, lonely and unrequited.

The final year of Sixth Form was the hardest. Knowing that the dreaded 'University' chat was just around the corner. People kept saying 'distance makes the heart grow fonder.' If my heart was to be any fonder of her beautiful face, it would explode. The prospect of university tearing us apart was tearing me apart. She kept me sane. Reassuring me that everything would stay the same, regardless of distance. After what felt like a life time together, I could tell when she was lying. The doubt took her once beautiful eyes and made them hollow. Although I stayed strong through out the year. Not only for me but for her also. I didn't want to see her upset, but fuck me man, why was everything changing around me? So the year carried on. The intensity and hype about University increased, consequently making me feel worse. However she was still being an angel. Saying the right things she knew I wanted to hear. Things that should have been making me feel better. They weren't. The most important, influential exams came around far too quickly. Then summer came and the realisation was sickening. Our last summer together before the infamous relationship killer university creeped up. As expected, she got into Birmingham and I got into falmouth. Could they be any further? To add to my fear, her frequent reassurances had become a rarity. This couldn't be over.

The summer flew by. I saw less of her. Our obsessive daily texting decreased to a mere 'hi. You okay?' and here I am. The date is the 20/10/10. Today I had my heart trampled on. Today I heard her say 'It's not you. It's me.'

The forgotten tale of Cindy Bella

Once upon a time their lived a family, The Smiths. The mother worked in an average office, her three daughters attended an average high school and on the surface they seemed the definition of normality. However Cindy, the adoptive daughter of Mrs smith, could see a strange hunger in their eyes. She could sense lies in their false smiles and laughs. All her life, after they adopted her from her inadequate parents as a baby, Cindy's instinct lead her to question their intentions.
Cindy was more then an adoptive daughter. They adopted her for two particular reasons. To be a slave girl to their average suburban lifestyle. Her delicate body wore the burden of all her hard work, however Mrs Smith was never satisfied. Cindy was unaware of the second reason, which added to the pot of curiosity boiling about The Smiths true identity. She knew that beneath this happy family there were underlying requirements she was soon to be confronted with. Mrs Smith would poison Cindy's mind with hints such as 'We will reveal all, in good time' or 'Cindy. We must start preparing soon.' These words would echo in Cindy's mind feeding her interest as well as her angst. To add to the enigma of The Smiths, there was a door in this average four bedroomed house. A heavy wooden door which Cindy was forbidden to go near. The Smiths were the only ones to enter this holy, sacred room and religiously they would all go in together at night, unaware that Cindy would listen aching to find information to piece together the puzzle she was building in her mind. Mrs Smith wore the key around her neck, giving it so much importance you would think this key could unlock all her darkest secrets. This thought often crossed Cindy's mind as she could hear the venomous key slide into the lock and The Smith family creep into their secret lair.

One night, the curiosity got the better of Cindy and scraped away any last ounce of common sense. She waited patiently for the time to come. When she could smell their evil, mysterious stench she prowled out of bed, reassured they had all gone in the room and no one was left to witness her act of stupidity she pushed open the large door of temptation just enough so her bony frail body could squeeze through. When she entered there were stairs going down into what she assumed was a basement. Gradually as she got further down more and more light appeared. She thought that she couldn't be witnessing this horrid state of affairs but the grotesque smell of dead, unwashed flesh made the experience all too real. Blood had stained every inch of the room. There were shelves with mass amounts of needles, knives and other apparatus which quite clearly had lead to the most nauseating sight of all. An accretion of bodies tossed on the floor like leftovers. The majority were dead which was evident from the pale colour of their chewed skin and the blood still seeping out of their limbs. To add to this desolate picture, a select few were alive, gagged and had been thrown in with the rotting corpses. In the centre of the carnage were the Smiths. The beasts were sat on the floor, swimming in gore and feasting upon human flesh. Real people. Cindy could feel the vomit churning in her stomach. She had to get out of there but she it's not as if a fairy god mother was going to come save her. She crept back up the basement stairs praying that someone, anyone could save her from becoming the next forgotten soul. She got into her room, thinking all was safe and she hadn't been spotted by her relentless, cannibalistic family. Until she looked up to find Mrs smith behind her.

Cindy awoke feeling drowsy from the drug that had been slithered through her veins like venom. The needle they used to penetrate her bruised, battered skin lay on the floor tormenting her battered body. Mrs Smith was pacing the room, staring at Cindy with an intense glare. She now knew what the desire was behind those eyes. 'Well, that was silly of you' stated Mrs Smith in a smug, menacing tone. 'Please, I've served you well all these years!' Cindy cried, the tears falling at the same pace as the blood from her knees 'don't do this to me, please.' The desperation in Cindy's voice, the years of service she provided for that family, were not enough. Cindy became one of the lost souls, lingering in that blood bath with only the stale stench of her body to keep her memory alive. In The Smith family no one lives happily ever after.

Cindy bella.

Once upon a time, in a society fuelled by alcohol and drug abuse, two inebriated teenagers created a beautiful, vulnerable yet unwanted child. Given the circumstances they put the innocent child up for adoption. One would like to say the young one went to a loving family who cherished her, however that was not the case as our young new born was the unlucky victim of The Smiths. They named her Cindy-bella but called her Cindy for short. And so our tale of torture begins.

Cindy became the bottom of the food chain. The runt of the litter. A burden on The Smith family. Which leaves us to wonder why did they adopt her if she became a figure of resentment? Well, when Cindy mastered the ability to walk she became The Smiths personal slave to the horrific mother, Mrs Smith. To worsen delicate Cindy's situation she had to cater, to every need, for Mrs Smiths monstrous triplets. Katrina, Kelly and Katy. The terrible triplets were ugly as sin which resulted in the label 'The Ugly Sisters' around the local council state. Cindy lived a strenuous, exhausting lifestyle, waiting hand and foot on The Smiths. She was commanded to do imperative fag runs and topping up the white lightening when they were running low. Furthermore Cindy would never receive to the estate house parties, which elated the ugly sisters. Every Friday night they would bellow 'CINDY STRAUGHTEN MY HAIR.' 'CINDY CURL MY EYELASHES.' One night when The Smiths were out the dingy council house, Cindy took advantage of the golden opportunity. She crept into the dark room of the dark twins tingling with excitement. Full to the brim with anticipation applied make up, did up her hair, slipped on a pair of heels and Katy's famous little black dress (which looked more like a boob tube then a dress.) With this new found confidence she strutted to the party two houses down. When she entered the music flowed through her bones. The scent of cheap perfume from Tescos excited her senses. The atmosphere transformed her normally grim face to a smile from ear to ear. For the first time in her life she felt truly happy. After several cans of Tescos own lager and a couple of line of cheap cocaine Cindy was in full party mode. She ventured into the box size kitchen only to be struck by the most beautiful man she had laid her eyes on. His matching burberry tracksuit, along with his shaved head and heavy gold chain, made her heart melt. They gazed at each other as if they were thinking the same thing. He approached her, dumbfounded by her beautify and the shortness of her gown. 'Hi, im Aaron' he said in a low, thuggish tone which drew her In furthermore. She struggled to reply, still recovering from her heart racing, yet she stuttered back 'Hey, Im Cindy.' He smiled, his gold tooth shimmered. Before they could exchange any more conversation Cindy heard the shrieking cackle of Kelly followed by the eery voice of Katy. With her eyes welling up she ran to the door not realising her gold hoop earring fell out. Cindy jumped into her house, reluctantly put her rags back on and hung up the dress. The hair was greased back into it's usual style and there she was. The misundrstood, slave girl destined to a life of misery. Cindy locked herself in her room sobbing endlessly, realising that life had dealt her a bad hand.

A month passed, and Cindy lulled back into the drab routine of the skivvy to her relentless, evil family. Our damsel in distress still pondered on the night in which she fell in love, however reality always struck like a knife. Another lonely evening in her room, doing the ironing occurred when Cindy cried to herself 'I wish someone would save me.' In an instant, a lady appeared in her room. The mystery woman was haggard and had a bizarre stench, however her presence eased the battered nerves of Cindy. 'Why, who are you?' she stammered in curiosity. 'I, my love, am your fairy god mother and there is no need to be scared precious. My intentions are good. I am here to rescue you.' The old lady continued. 'I am going to give you a makeover, provide transport and reunite you with your beloved Aaron. Tonight Cindy, you shall go to the party.' The Fairy God mother waved her wand and lightening shook the house. In the blink of an eye Cindy transformed into one of the most stunning chavettes on the estate. A taxi pulled up at the door, but before Cindy sunk in to the front seat the fairy god mother heckled her 'make haste dear, there is a catch. My magic runs out at midnight. You have to return home by then.' Cindy nodded and so she was off to change her life.

She stood at the front door, having arrived at her destination. She inhaled and exhaled deeply, in an attempt to prepare her self for whatever was about to happen. In and out. In and out. She checked the time. 10 o clock. 'I have two hours to do this.' Cindy took three steps. Three vital steps to a new life. She pushed open the door, about to explode with fear and self deprecation. Her eyes fell on Aaron, and his on her, all tension was relieved. He couldn't believe his luck that he had found her again, after a month of intrepid searching for the owner of the plastic gold hoop. The three ugly sisters, who consequently all had their eyes on Aaron, synchronously screeched in horror at what they were witnessing 'CINDY GO HOME NOW.' Cindy was immune to their wallowing. Aaaron handed her the earring and grabbed her nervous, clammy hands. 'I knew I would find you.' He threw his cigarette on the carpet creating a burn on the floor to match the rest. They embraced eachother, lips touching, the taste of cigarettes lingering. For Cindy, she was at home and everything was complete. They got a cosy flat, from the council, and together they lived happily ever after.
The end.

:)

This is just a blog to show things that I've written for uni. Things I've written for the hell of it. I suppose you could call it a mini portfolio. Criticism welcome, constructive of course. :]

Currently studying English with Media studies at falmouth university and love it.