Pass the Nirvana

some bitch's blog

- Under Construction! -

Testing, testing, can you read me?

He looks at me then, the flashes of purple, blue, red from the window dancing in dark eyes. There's a few of us out here, huddled together around my ex-girlfriend's bong at a home-grown rave; I can still feel the bass vibrating through the frame of the house, rattling the back of the old bench. The blond beside me's been hovering all night; like most times, I can't tell if I'm flattered or off-put, but who can blame a man for shooting his shot? The man standing closest to the door (one of my best friends - the realization hits with a swell of pride) says something I don't hear and everyone's laughing.

For the first time in a while, it didn't feel like it hurt.