With oregano oil

I HAVE GIVEN IN.
and converted to a blogger.
forgive me?
follow me?
http://08261989.blogspot.com/

Dear Elizabethtown,
I am fairly sure I have a love affair with you and your musical prefrances.

I adore you and the fact that i can quote you in the oddest moments of my life.

Also, thank you for making my expectations in life unattainable.
And for making me realize that I am a substitute person.

Sincerely,
the ninth  grade through current version of myself

She awoke to the mid-morning sunrise. Stifled air and music evaded her senses as she slept. The weight of his arm was heavy against, what she always thought to be, delicate skin, bones and flesh. Touch scared her, but not his. She was always worried, in the back of her mind, that she would become too reliant on the touch of others. His upper arm was toned and curvaceous and she knew the rises and dips fairly well since the days before they were involved. She was seventeen and could barely make it through the day without a kiss good-bye from her mother, what was she doing with a 20 year-olds arm draped over her stomach? She created monologues and stories in her spare time and her senior year was nearly through. In the light she could hear the record crackle out and the radio’s arm move to its beginning location as if starting over were as easy as a single swift brushing of the past. It was December but her mind was back to Summer. The hottest one she could remember. She was barely interested in him when they first met, and vice-versa. The only men she read into that summer were of the titles Salinger and Kerouac. And she was far from interested in friends seeing as she had the best of all worlds, or as close as she could get. Not only was that summer hot but the most unattractive she had ever had. Chubby cheeked, highlights and boxy glasses were the staples of the season, along with a well worn in grey hoodie which absorbed sweat better than water to a sponge. The rest always remained blurry. Even months after the event details would remain to be seen, and being the storyteller she was she began to embellish. This embellishing wasn’t so bad, more for her than anyone else. But the moment passed, as moments often do, and the summer ended. The light altered as church bells solidly clanged in the distance and a deep rumble hit the pit of her stomach but she was still in six months ago. School began as school always started, except friendless and completely scared and confused by summer induced events. The months went by. Healing of wounds ensued and were soon followed by the re-ripping of them, but all in all she stayed somewhat intact. Winter snuck up on her and before she knew it he was calling her, texting her, checking in. She did not mind, the attention was nice and, no matter how horrible it sounded, she missed that. Nothing happened at first, just as over the summer, but soon annoyance and sarcasm turned into charm and wit. His ring tone was horrible, some Strokes number, but it rang just loud enough to bring her out of her conscious a coma. That summer, and those friends, and those losses, and phone calls, and charm, and kindness brought her here, to his arm and senses and sun dancing through the glass and onto the pale yellow walls. His arm moved and the hairs from her skin rose. She grew cold and warm all in the same instant and her gut reacted, she should have never let him touch her.