Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > I don't think you're my drug.
Prologue
Sometimes the ones you want the most are the hardest to tame. Sometimes you get intrigued by the hardest to cope with.
?Blocked
This is just a new idea that popped into my head during a very long, boring car trip. Don't expect an update until i've written quite a lot of the story. I have wrote a few chapters already, but to make me post; I need reviews. So ha. Review = Update. I love you all. But don't expect an update yet.
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Do you ever feel like there isn't a point in life?
That whatever you do, if you die, if you mess up your life, it doesn't matter, because you'll come back, or live on, or reincarnate or something.
That's how I felt. I always felt like we would do something afterwards. Like, become a fish, or a sock or something. Well, at least I hoped. I always pictured that we would fly up to the sky, pick a cloud and sit there for all eternity. The big guy in a white suit would give you a halo, and tell you that you're dead, whilst pink flying ponies fly by and wave to you as you drink a martini. But then again, sometimes, I think we just die, and that's it. No more. We just, rot.
Houdini always said that he would come back from the dead, if it were possible. Just to prove that there is something afterwards. But he never did. So what is there to prove that there is actually anything afterwards? The only thing that Houdini is doing now, is laying six feet under, rotting away, until some poor person goes bankrupt, and digs him up, and sells his pelvis on eBay.
But that's just me. The overly morbid-sadist girl who does nothing to improve her quality of life. Ok, so I have a pretty good job, but that's about the only good thing I have going for me. I worked at a small firm called R-Tec, a company that worked alongside small record labels to deal with publicity. I worked as a photographer, the head of photography's assistant. I did really enjoy my job. It helped me relax. Let me forget all the bad stuff about my life. I am a twenty-one year old girl with a huge ego. At about 5ft2, and with hair the color of the sun, I was a ginger midget. Oh the joy. I tended to stick out of the crowd, as most of the people would come into work all smart, whereas I would usually turn up in jeans and a t-shirt. I was also a bit strange, being a rebel, drinking every other night, and tagging along with my friends when they had their little drug parties. Okay, I was a fucking junkie. So what?
I didn't work all the time, so it meant I could get over my little hangovers in peace. That brings me back to my argument with myself. I'm not afraid of death. I do drugs, I smoke, I drink. I know they could freaking kill me, But like I say, I'm not afraid of death. I lost everything that mattered to me when I was young.
If I die, I die. That's all there is to it.
That's just me. And I love it.
Taela Summers.
Sadist, Masochist, death-obsessed extraordinaire.
Photographer by day, Junkie-druggie by night.
Small, ginger freak.
Oh, Love me.
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Do you ever feel like there isn't a point in life?
That whatever you do, if you die, if you mess up your life, it doesn't matter, because you'll come back, or live on, or reincarnate or something.
That's how I felt. I always felt like we would do something afterwards. Like, become a fish, or a sock or something. Well, at least I hoped. I always pictured that we would fly up to the sky, pick a cloud and sit there for all eternity. The big guy in a white suit would give you a halo, and tell you that you're dead, whilst pink flying ponies fly by and wave to you as you drink a martini. But then again, sometimes, I think we just die, and that's it. No more. We just, rot.
Houdini always said that he would come back from the dead, if it were possible. Just to prove that there is something afterwards. But he never did. So what is there to prove that there is actually anything afterwards? The only thing that Houdini is doing now, is laying six feet under, rotting away, until some poor person goes bankrupt, and digs him up, and sells his pelvis on eBay.
But that's just me. The overly morbid-sadist girl who does nothing to improve her quality of life. Ok, so I have a pretty good job, but that's about the only good thing I have going for me. I worked at a small firm called R-Tec, a company that worked alongside small record labels to deal with publicity. I worked as a photographer, the head of photography's assistant. I did really enjoy my job. It helped me relax. Let me forget all the bad stuff about my life. I am a twenty-one year old girl with a huge ego. At about 5ft2, and with hair the color of the sun, I was a ginger midget. Oh the joy. I tended to stick out of the crowd, as most of the people would come into work all smart, whereas I would usually turn up in jeans and a t-shirt. I was also a bit strange, being a rebel, drinking every other night, and tagging along with my friends when they had their little drug parties. Okay, I was a fucking junkie. So what?
I didn't work all the time, so it meant I could get over my little hangovers in peace. That brings me back to my argument with myself. I'm not afraid of death. I do drugs, I smoke, I drink. I know they could freaking kill me, But like I say, I'm not afraid of death. I lost everything that mattered to me when I was young.
If I die, I die. That's all there is to it.
That's just me. And I love it.
Taela Summers.
Sadist, Masochist, death-obsessed extraordinaire.
Photographer by day, Junkie-druggie by night.
Small, ginger freak.
Oh, Love me.
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