entry one//12:35 saturday

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#1

a new family moved into the old house down the hill. i'm hoping somebody cute will move into one of the bedrooms; i couldn't stand looking out my window and being able to see into mrs. marren's sewing room. it's kind of weird how the builders constructed the houses in this development; maybe they were stoned when laying out the plan. the houses in the middle are back to back, with small backyards in between. i can see directly into the room outside my bedroom window and across the patches of grass.

oh god, i'm trying not to spy, but it looks like there's a guy moving in. i just saw him walk in the sliding glass door while holding boxes. 

update: this boy is going to be the death of me. and i know it's cliche to write about some random boy in a fucking journal, but it's not like i have a friend to run over and talk about boys with. wow, way to turn it from lovesick to depressing in 0.24 seconds, mikey, jesus christ.

this is why i have no friends.

i just lowkey opened my window so i could hear him talk. aah; he's yelling at his mom. what a loud boi. definitely a warning sign; loud does not mix well with mikey way. but you know what they say; opposites attract, i guess.

he's complaining about the setup of the development. wow, i just talked about that; how fucking spooky...,he's worried a 70 year old pervert lives across the backyards and will see him changing--this means his room is the room that i can see into! what a day. wow, he's really concerned someone's gonna look in on him with no pants. his mom just reminded him he had curtains, to which he yelled "fuck curtains."

i'm beginning to like this guy.

 but i can't make any promises that i won't try to look through the curtains.

just kidding; i'm not a fucking pervert. 

-mikey


another new fic? im on a fucking roll!!! merry christmas to those who celebrate; i got a new laptop which has a much nicer keyboard than my old one. that should motivate me to write (i hope)

vote/comment if you want

-t.

the boy with the navy curtains//petekeyWhere stories live. Discover now