January 11th, Following the Unimportant Year

Do pretty girls make graves, I wonder? Russell and I kissed for many an hour. He is a recovering heroin addict. Oh, the romance I have with dangerous men, self-abusing for pleasure. Russell also happens to be Jeannine’s brother. She did not take this well. It is that she is ashamed of me, or that she is ashamed of him, or that she is ashamed of us both.

From the moment I saw his picture displayed in her living room, I knew I would have him. It was all a matter of waiting. Waiting for him to arrive from another city, where he was attending college, and deep in his addiction. Waiting for him to look at me. Waiting for privacy. Waiting to approach him with an innocence I have never truly possessed, at least not when it comes to men. But all fools who do not understand how short a lifetime is, must go to sleep to dream of the lives they will never have. Then, Russell and I embraced under the protection of the moon.

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January 11th, Following the Unimportant Year

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