I am applying to Columbia. I just got started on writing this piece for a scholarship I’m applying to and it made me love it all over again. I need three nominators and I’ve sent two e-mails to Meg Cabot, my favorite writer of all time. Chances are she won’t reply, but fuck, what’s a girl to do?

Next, I can always try the lady who wrote Cheetah Girls because I know I can’t contact Maya Angelou.

Or can I…?
I finally got my Uncle’s e-mail address, so he’s going to be the personal nominator. Go me, nyu?

I went to Georgetown yesterday in attempt to get a new tat. Unfortunately, the minimum price was 50 bucks. I only had 24 bucks on me. I secretly cried, fortunately, I found this vintage shop right next to the parlor. I was going to buy this shirt, but I was short eighty cents. EIGHT FUCKING CENTS. This made me cry more because I couldn’t buy it when they were having, like, a fucking super sale. Ugh.

I’m going back to fucking Georgetown.
I got a gingerbread house though. I also got food and three books that I shop lifted from Barnes & Noble. They look awesome and I finished one on the train ride home. Next time, I’m hitching someone with me and we’re going to fucking enjoy Georgetown. That place was fucking awesome!

So, I’m going to Louisiana, Opelousas for Christmas. Unfortunately, cousin says it’s cold down there. But their cold is like our warm, so yea, at least I have almost something to look forward too. As well as missing one day of school. All week I’m going to be thinking, only four days of school left. Only three days of school left. Only two days of school left. YES, THURSDAY IS MY LAST FUCKING DAY.

Ah, the wonders of high school, eh?
Favorite memories my ass.

In other news, I was on Gaia and I typed this really nice thing. I’m not the one to brag, but it made me cry. You all don’t understand because this is actually based off of something in real life. But the girl wasn’t raped, still. I’m going to post it and, to let you know, the names have been changed for the people’s privacy.

I’m not really sure where to begin.

The party was in the back yard where someone had thrown up giant speakers and parked all the cars they could. It was so hot; that just walking down the concrete steps would generate enough heat to make you sweat. You could see the bodies pressed together. The music is so loud that the police were sure to come knocking, but for now, it was a good party; there was no trouble with the gangbangers, hustlers and gangstas. Instead, man and woman were pressed together publicly grinding to an LL Cool J classic.

She watched as they poured Cognac into the Sunny D. She wrapped her arms around her, even though it was hotter than ever out here with the moving and dancing, she felt she needed her arms around her.

Curly hair bounced on her shoulders, as she glanced at her surroundings. She had nothing expensive on her, she didn’t have a purse. There was no reason to carry one, she didn’t have a phone. She had on a tight jean mini and a pink tank top showing all that her momma had given her. But she was uncomfortable; he was the one who said that it was a good idea for her to come with him. She could meet some guys, he had said. “Hey shawty,” a slurred voice crooned. “Wanna spend sum time wit’ me?”

She drew away from him. “C’mon baby, I can make dat’ pussy wet.”
She ran, melting into the hot throng of bodies. She could feel their heartbeats and could feel their sweat. Where was he? She was scared.

He was enjoying his time. His hands were clasped onto a female’s chest; he was grinding on her better than anyone was. They were inside. They were happy. He was satisfied.

She wasn’t.
“Pharroah! Pharroah!”

A hand clamped onto her arm and spun her around. It was the same man and this time he had friends.

“C’mon now girl, whatcha’ problem!?”
“Hey you a cutie! We just wanna spend time witchu’!”
“Stop actin’ all stuck up, bitch!”
“NO! PHARROAH!”

It was 2AM and he walked out of the house, a little tipsy and a little hung-over. As soon as he placed his key in the door of his car, she jumped into his mind.

“Shit! Cleo!” He turned and marched back into the house. Random bodies lay intertwined, majority of the people marched out. It was time for the party goers to disperse. They needed coffee and breakfast. He scanned the faces for her. He needed to find her. He promised nothing would happen to her, but he was gone the whole time.

Had she had a great time?

“Hey, you seen my sista’?”
“Cleopatra? Oh, yea.”
“You see where she went?”
“Um, naw man, sorry.”

Fuck. “CLEOPATRA?!”
He ran upstairs, slamming open doors and waking random occupants. He didn’t care though, he needed to find her. He came to the bathroom, it was locked. He slammed his fists into the door.

“CLEOPATRA?! YOU IN THERE!?”
“Ph-pharroah?”
“CLEOPATRA! OPEN THE DOOR.”

She opened the door. She was missing her shirt. She had been crying; he knew because her makeup was smeared.

“What happened?! WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?!”
“Th-these guys att-attacked me.”
“They fuck you?”

She slowly nodded her head.
“That's why I locked myself in the-the bathroom.”

He hugged her. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I-I’m I—”
She grabbed him and hugged him too.