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MotivationI need a saint. No, I’m not religious…but I find that I need a saint. I need an earnest person to talk to. Someone like Kael…or Livie…someone with knowledge. Someone older than me. I’d like to discuss life. I’d like to discuss my writing, piano, House, Little Miss Sunshine…among other things. I’d like to have the chance to talk at someone for forty five minutes. No, I don’t want to go to Bradley again. There’s nothing to discuss…yet…there is.Motivation
I’m stuck. I need motivation. This would be where—
“You needed someone?” a voice asks. I sigh an
by ~WhoKilledCorey
EditShit. I finally realize that I need an editor for this piece. This piece of…novel that’s pushed its way into my life.Edit
Chaos.
Someone taps me on the shoulder. I look around; I thought I was walking by myself to Wayland Square. Starbucks. Whatever. I didn’t hear footsteps, before. A boy, of eighteen or nineteen, certainly a few years older than me, stands there. Dwayne Hoover is the first person who comes to find, as I’ve seen Little Miss Sunshine one too many times by now. He has black hair. It hasn’t all grown out like Paul Dano’s had by the time he was in the film Fast Food Nation. No,
by ~WhoKilledCorey
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