She.
She was lonely; infatuated by the way someone walked and how their hands had opened a can of Soda. She was conflicting to the point of conflict seeming intriguing. She wanted love but pushed away the options she had, loved the thought of it, but the actions seemed dangerous. She bit down on the corner of her lip, shook her leg and pulled the sleeves over her clammy hands when anxiety rushed through her curved, lean, body. She hated the way her dad spoke to her mom and hated the way her mom let things internally get the best of her. She was much mature for her age and was fond of the way someone's mind could open up and clash with someone else's. She had became very strong, learning how to live without a pack and could battle her own terrible and rugged thoughts. She fell in love with people who needed to be fixed in hopes that maybe, they would somehow fix her rough and sharp edges in the process. Some had flaws born in, but she was on of the few who had them beat in. With the slight distraction from a rough time being a visit to see her family and playing guitar here or there, she was distracted but not enough to stop her mind from running as much as it typically had. Falling in love with the way someone could make her feel more than someone made her feel less and fell in love with the way their eyes told a story their lips weren't confessing. She loved the way coffee smelled, the way babies laughed and hated waking up early for school and mowing the lawn for her father which never ended without at least one disagreement between the two. She had been called beautiful, gorgeous, and unique. However, she had also been called childish, a bitch, depressed and over dramatic. She was gullible, funny and distant. You could tell she had been hurt, you could tell she had hurt others and you could tell she was the girl not many people invested in. Although she was a lonewolf, her life was also lived as the life of a professional outcast. It believe me when I say, her story is by no means, to the slightest, boring.
YOU ARE READING
Bittersweet
Romance"You're almost," he paused and before I knew it, his eyes moved from the floor to mine and for the first time, I finally saw his eye color, a dark brown meant to be cold but becoming warmer the longer he looked at me, "Bittersweet." he finished.
