pinkstarrypants

I miss you.

2009-01-19T16:27:36Z

I've lost you once and I really don't want to lose you again. I know I probably don't deserve your friendship. Your laughter, your wit, your intelligence and your beauty. I love you. Believe it or not; I think about you every day. I miss you a lot. I can't get past how I messed up, again.

I can't forget every laugh you gave me and every time you listened to me.

I am sorry that I said you aren't my best friend. But I don't feel like that's what we are anymore.

Not that I don't want it though. We've grown apart - for whatever reasons. It's true. It's a fact. I want you in my life though. No-one in the world knows me better than you. No matter how many people I meet - no-one can replace you. No boyfriend, no girlfriend, I wish I told you this weeks - no, months - ago.

I hope this isn't the end for us. I have so many memories of us together. Many, many memories. You've been a true friend. A brilliant, talented writer. I know you'll do well in life. I know you'll find the man that will love you to the end of the earth - the kind of love that you deserve. I know you'll have a successful career. You'll make your family proud. You'll make me proud (not that you need my approval...).

I hope the next time we see each other - it won't be awkward. I hope we click just like last time and scare the shit outta everyone around us with how much we know each other. I want to know you more. I want to know you in ten, twenty or more years.

I want to be able to pick up the phone without hesitation to tell you that I've just bought your newest book from WhSmiths - and that I love it.

Now I am rambling. I don't know if you saw or noticed my status on facebook a few days ago. Well if you did, yes it was about you. About us.

I don't know if you'll ever see this. I don't know if I'll post this.

If you read this - you know this was written for you.

My apologies, dearest friend.

My Love

Jane.

x x x

Missing you.

2008-06-07T19:35:22Z

I miss you.
I really bloody miss you.
You're meant to be here next to me.
That's how it's meant to be.
But you're there.
With her.
And I'm trying to fool you that it's okay.
It is.
I think.
I hope.
I wish.
I miss you and I'm hoping you miss me too.
How can you think of me when her bright blonde hair shines in that hot seductive sun?
And how could I be in your mind when you wake up to her pretty face?
I'll trust you.
I do.
I swear.
But I don't know how you could miss me out there.
So far from predictability.
That's me.
Here in the cold, I'm glad I don't know just how fun it is out there.
Photos will tell me of the good times you'll have had.
My face won't need to appear but your smile will be strong.
It'll last in my mind, far beyond our time.

I miss you, my sweet.

I'll defend your honour while you stretch it a little.
I'll be waiting back here when you're done.
You're far from forgotten.

I love you.

You don't need to remind me how much I need you.

I know, my sweet.

Because I'm missing you now.

And we're barely apart.
Hardly.

Writer's Block: Won't You Be My Neighbor?

2008-04-19T14:31:23Z

What are your neighbors like?

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I have a weird pervy neighbor called Dave.
He is forty something and was texting my 15 yr old sister.
He also told me he has seen me naked in my back garden - lies.

X

Writer's Block: Outta My Way!

2008-04-18T12:52:17Z

Have you ever experienced road rage?

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Ohhh yes! And I'm still learning!

X

Writer's Block: My Secret Identity

2008-04-07T17:00:09Z

Describe your different personas.

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My life is built around my different personas I suppose.
I have one for my friends, another for my boyfriend and one for my family.
My friends would firmly say I'm the most confident within our group.
My best friend, family and boyfriend would say I'm very insecure and not happy with myself.
Which is the "real" me? Who knows?

XxX

Entrance Scholarship for Bangor

2008-03-11T17:20:14Z

Well it's settled. I'm going to Bangor. In January I took a four hour scholarship exam in the hope of getting at least some of my tuition fees paid for - I didn't thin I'd stand a chance. However, on friday I recieved a letter from Bangor University informing me that they were awarding me with an 'Entrance Scholarship' which means they're going to give me £3000 and lower the entry requirment from 260 points to 80! Basically I was completely shocked and burst into tears. It's a strange feeling being told that's where you are definetly going (I didn't think I would find out until august). Now, despite being really pleased and a hug sense of relief there is also the realisation that I am moving far away, where I know no-one, leaving my family, friends and boyfriend. Wow... =0 Scary thought....

Why Patrick Stump Really Dislikes Ashlee Simpson...

2008-02-26T23:49:14Z

Why Patrick Stump Really Dislikes Ashlee Simpson.
Patrick Stump really dislikes Ashlee; not hate because Patrick doesn't hate people. But he feels like he is burning whenever he dares to glance over at her. He feels like his blood is boiling when she speaks and feels sick when she comes near him. Patrick decides he should make a mental list of why he doesn't like her...it only seems fair.
Patrick thinks Ashlee is not even that pretty. Not really. Not compared to Pete. Her looks are just another reason why Pete could do better.
She has this stupid fucking laugh. It seems so false and her eyes don't light up like Pete's do. It annoys Patrick and it makes him want to gag her.
Ashlee is slim and doesn't seem to ever need to eat. Another reason for Patrick to dislike her as he is naturally a little chubby and can't not eat anything, it makes him feel low and depressed that Pete is obviously attracted to thin people and he will never be that.
She doesn't like real music. Patrick loves music, it is his life, it is the air he breathes. Patrick can play many instruments and has a voice of an angel. She once attempted some pop and failed. It makes him sad that even what he belives is his one talent does not seem to impress Pete and can't compare to The Ashlee Simpson Show...
Patrick thinks she shows far too much flesh for his liking. Ashlee wears these skimpy little tops and skirts that show off her slim figure that Pete seems to openly appreciate making Patrick feel uglier than ever. It also makes him feel stupid for falling for a guy that is going out with a girl like her.
Ashlee is always all over Pete when he is around. It makes him run to the bathroom and throw up. It also makes his eyes sting. He'll lock himself in the bathroom and cry. He'll try to block out the gushing and giggling from the next room. Patrick understands the feeling of slef-hatred and low self-esteem, although he doesn't remember having any because he met Pete years ago.
She doesn't understand or appreciate Pete's incredible lyrics. Patrick is always, always astounded when he sees Pete's lyrics. He'll gasp and tell Pete that they are "incredible...awsome" but that doesn't quite cut it because he really is amazed by them. Patrick asked Ashlee what she thought of Pete's lyrics once and she replied with "Oh yeah...they're great, I totally love singing along..." Patrick then asked what emotion she felt when she heard 'Sugar We're Going Down...' She responded with "Oh it's a really fun song, you know? It makes me feel happy, the chorus is nice." Patrick sulked for the rest of the day.
Just another girl. She takes Pete away from the band. Patrick justifies his bitterness with the fact that Andy and Joe don't really like her either. They tend to agree with Patrick on the above factors and moan when he dumps them for a night with her. She has hurt them all. And will eventually hurt Pete. And Patrick will be here to pick up the pieces.
She takes Pete away from him. She reminds Patrick every day that she is everything he is not; which is all the things that Pete apparently wants. It breaks him a little bit more each day. So when you see a photo of the Fall Out Boy guys; think. Look at Patrick's smile and decide; genuine?

Comprehend My Confusion [Frank Stepped into the Dark...]

2008-02-19T21:25:03Z

Frank stepped into the dark, empty space scattered with those who choose to drown their sorrows alone in a bar with no questions asked. The décor is cheap and so is the drink, designed to get you drunk and forget, not really focusing on taste. Frank’s heart fluttered a little as he spotted the youngest of the men slouched at the bar, his dark hair covering part of his beautiful face and he cursed himself for fitting the cliché, in just another way. He stepped cautiously towards the young man and took a closer look at the person he had intentionally found.

Gerard sat there, headphones in, lyrics dark and music heavy. Drink in his hand and he screws up his face as he realises his glass is empty. He closes his eyes and attempts to relax his shoulder muscles, sighing. There is a tap on his shoulder and his eyes open reluctantly, turning his head.

Frank sits down next to him, fidgeting on the stool and hands shaking with nerves. His eyes met Gerard’s just like he imagined they would and instead of pity he felt overwhelmed with a sudden sense to care for this stranger. But he was pretty sure it would not come across this way, especially when he asked –

"What are you actually doing here?" Curiousity, with a sense of resentment, filled his voice and Frank made little attempt to hide what he felt.

"Uh, what does it look like?" Gerard briefly shook his head, partly in disbelief and also to give this stranger a not-so-subtle hint that he didn’t need a lecture right now. Gerard did what came so easily to him; he turned the question back on the other person. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you." Gerard had not expected that. His sarcastic, almost rhetorical question was intended to make the person leave him alone without further questioning.

"Me?"

"Yes. You." Frank looked Gerard straight in the eye, and then it came to him. Gerard thought he recognised this underage, good-looking boy. He smiled and decided to play along for a while, it’s not like he had anything else to do.

"Why did you think I’d be here then?" Gerard felt a dark smirk spread across his face and mentally prepared himself for the judgement, questions and unforgiving looks. This kid didn’t know him, so why should he care?

"Because you didn’t come in and buy alcohol. So I figured you would…be somewhere that sells it." Frank answered promptly and confidently, not really sure where this self-assurance had come from.

"Oh. Okay. So where didn’t I go…?" Gerard tried to hide the smile, surprised he felt a little not-so-depressed, he knew the kid but hey what’s the harm in giving this kid an incite into what life was like for someone with such low self-worth and no respect for anyone, including – especially – himself.

"To the store. Around the corner." His tone obvious and slow. "You didn’t come in. I didn’t sell you drink. And I figured you would get some…somewhere, like here." Frank looked around once again and swallowed as he saw what kind of state most of the punters were in.

Gerard couldn’t quite comprehend why this person was sat here talking to him but he could understand the look of sheer horror on the young man’s face. Gerard had worn the same expression once. He had sat and stared looked at the men in here and sworn he would not end up like them. He told himself that he was just here to escape to get away from that world outside, but of course he had become one of them. Gerard was like them, only younger. He drank too much, smoked too much and sat here alone with no-one else to talk to. His skin didn’t have the tired lines like the others had, nor did his hair have a grey amongst the greasy, unwashed strands that hung over his face. But it was the same principle. He still came here. He still got drunk. He still belongs here – and that was the worst part.

"So what’s a nice young man doing in a place like this?" This words that escaped from between Gerard’s thin lips could mean either; "I know you’re underage" or "Yes, I’m aware this question is ironic, but don’t become like me. I’m your warning."

"Right back at you." Frank smiled at the man sat beside him and looked into his kind-looking eyes, which Gerard rolled towards the dirty ceiling.

"Okay, fair enough. But at least I’m legally allowed here…" Frank giggled, not really helping his case, he shook his head.

"I’m twenty-one." His tone unconvincing, his eyes flickered to the floor. "I’m just…uh…short."

"Short?" Gerard allowed his eyes to drift over the younger man’s body, trying to work out his height. Frank noticed and rose from the stool, holding out his arms as if to say "see?" and then shrugged. The older man chuckled softly and shook his head. This kid was weird, but Gerard had never been considered normal anyway, there was something…good about this boy though. He wasn’t so naïve but still had some innocence in his eyes, it was beautiful – he was beautiful.

Frank slumped back into the chair again and licked his lips. His gaze wondered towards the bar, then back towards Gerard’s empty glass – he scowled and Gerard presumed it was due to the disapproval of his alcohol habit.

"I want a drink." Frank’s eyes met Gerard’s. "What are you drinking?"

"JD."

"Straight?"

"Yes. Straight." Gerard sighed. He hated being reminded of this. Just hated talking about it. "Though you’d know – seeing as you know everything else."

"No. I don’t know anything about you. Not really."

There was an awkward silence before Frank nodded his response, picked up Gerard?s glass and walked towards the bar. There was confidence oozing from him as he strode across the room, he placed the glass on the bar with enough force to make a noise. No reaction. A forced cough. Nothing still.

"Hello?" His eyes not daring to move back towards his new friend. "Can I have some service here?"

The barman with a balding head and greasy skin, stepped in the direction towards Frank and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He looked tired. It may not be loud or energetic in here but this bar never slept.

"A JD." He paused. "And, uh, a Bacardi, please."

The barman stared in disbelief.

"Yeah sure, kid." He shook his head and started to walk away. He turned his neck back and added "You shouldn't even be in a place like this."

Underage and so very very brave

Frank shrugged, turned around and watched Gerard laugh at him. Laugh. He cursed himself for being so stupid. He didn't look twenty-one and he barely looked the eighteen years that he'd lived. Frank slowly shuffled back towards where Gerard sat attempting to stifle his giggles.

"Aw, too young?"

Frank didn't miss a beat.

"No, I just don't look my age."

"Sure, so how old are you?"

"Twenty-one."

"Really. How old are you?"

"Uhm." Frank leant closer and Gerard noticed how good he smelt. "Eighteen." He whispered.
Gerard was even more surprised when he felt himself smiling again. Gerard didn't do smiling. Frank looked at him with eyes so full of wonder and curiousity, and Gerard was constantly expecting the boy to ask questions.

"Why do you drink so much?"

The question was so full of pure freaking honesty, good intentions and no presumptions.

"Why?" He didn't quite yet know what the kid wanted or needed to hear.

"Yes. Why? Why do you drink everyday?"

"Because." Gerard took a deep breath. "It's easier this way. I need it. I need this." He gestured to another empty glass and released a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

"But for what?"

"To live." He stated simply.

"Why do you need to drink so much?"

"I guess - I guess I just need it. My mind needs it. And my body needs it." Gerard held out his hands, showing his self-defence. "I have no other way of explaining it."

Frank nodded his expression, clearly sincere.

"Oh. Okay. So you wanna get out of here?" Frank quickly realised how the question must have sounded and immediately tried to backtrack. "No - uh- I mean you know-since?" Gerard's expression had gone from one of exasperation to one of amusement.

"- I know what you mean. It's okay." Gerard decided to wind the kid up a little, Frank's look of nervousness was funny and adorable. "Unless you want to..?" He managed to keep a straight face. They made eye contact and Gerard dared to wink at the obviously uncomfortable boy sat next to him. His attempt to leer at Frank had collapsed along with his laughter.

"Joking." Gerard stood up for the first time in hours and looked down and Frank. "Let's go."

They ended up walking along the cold streets of New Jersey with Gerard slightly shuffling along, his unsure steps just a little ahead of Frank's.

"So you didn't tell me your name, and you don't know mine."

"You're Frank and I'm Gerard."

"Uh, Gerard, how do you know my name?"

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

There is more. Please tell me what you think. X

Writer's Block: Weekend Plans

2008-02-08T17:23:53Z

Yesterday the guy I'm seeing invited me to go to his Auntie's birthday meal so I can meet his parents. So yeah. That's what I'm gonna be doing in...less than 2 hours! Omg... =o So nervous! X

What are your plans for this weekend?

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Writer's Block: Super Bowl 2008

2008-02-04T23:09:14Z

Did you watch the Super Bowl last night? Who did you watch it with?

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What's the Super Bowl? An American tradition, no doubt? Sorry for my ignorance. Educate me. X

Contemplation of Realisation.

2008-01-27T21:15:19Z

So I'm sat here at my desk, bare feet and hair pulled back from my face with a grey cotton band, and fucking Leona Lewis comes on the radio. Don't get me wrong she's an okay singer with some average lyrics but for some reason I'm wanting more. I've arrived back from a weekend in North Wales. Not your average visit to valleys, though only ever actually been there once before. It was to attend the university in Bangor, I had an interview there yesterday. It's a nice place you see, a mixture of the more than adequately wealthy and the working-class that manage to scrape enough to hide money problems from their beloved offspring. There are nice vews; shared between the towering mountains and the angry, rough waves that roll onto the coast, it's cold here and it makes you shiver just to imagine touching that murky water. The picturesque town of Bangor that happens to have a "brilliant" university with "one of the best courses in the UK", I know because I've read the leaflets, prospectus and sat the interview. They tell me it's cheap living around here and so I'll only come out with little over thirty thousand pounds debt. I'm all too aware of the seven hour train journey that can take me home once a term. The railway tracks run along the coast and I can see green and grey fly past the windows and relfect in my unsure eyes. My parents can chatter about accomadation, part-time jobs and career potential the course I have chosen may provide me with.

To be second best would be to settle for 1980's cheap concrete blocks and shared bathrooms. To mix with the un-achieving and not the middle-class lawyers-to-be. To not get the grades I need for "brilliant Bangor" would mean to attend another institution on the coast, one with untidy streets and large, dirty buses. The train ride from "not as good Newport" is shortened to about ninety minutes from my hometown. I may end up here with the friends that are studying English or God forbid...drama. I may go out drinking, leave my old, tired room in a mess, and perhaps even arrive late at a lecture.

See one of my problems, and I'm starting to think that I may have many, is a person. He's all hypnotic smiles, thick blonde hair and eyes that I would follow to the end of the world. He hums, whistles and skips in the street. He plays the guitar and can actually hold a conversation. He lets me hold his hand and doesn't laugh when I fall over. He likes me drunk and sober. He tells me I'm beautiful and touches me like I actually am. He keeps books by his bed and promises me that he reads. He tells me not to worry when I'm stressed and puts up with me when I do. The other problem I've only known him for a couple of weeks. So I can't expect too much from him, and certainly shouldn't add him to the reasons to stay close to home. It's crazy. More than. I mean I met him at the local, and only club, wasted and he wanted my number. We've been out a few times and I think about him too much. Everytime I think about something he has said or done I end up sat there grinning like a fool. And I then feel stupid.

Because trust me there are many other reasons to stay close. I have friends here. Best friends. People I can't imagine not seeing everyday. I hate it when I'm ill because it means I'm not at school and thus not hanging out with them. I need to see their smiling or sad faces to know that they're here. But they won't be close to home either. We'll all be gone. Spread around the country or not this country in my case. My best friend, Fiona, is often the reason I drag my arse out of bed in the morning and get on the bus. She is usually the only one that actually understands a lot of the bullshit that is produced from between these lips, or fingers. See, I'm not sure I can cope each day waking up and knowing that it'll be weeks, or months until I see my best friends again. Why should it mean more than laughing with my friends or being there for them to cry on? I don't know. Now I feel crap because I can't even begin to explain why or just how significant these people are to me. They're kind of the air that I breathe. Cheesy I know.

My family are of course another important reason why I worry about leaving. My mum came with me to my interview in Bangor, just. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to make it or not. Because she hasn't been out the house in a while and her legs still aren't working properly. Mum is getting worse. We all have to face up to that. She has the progressive type of M.S. and it's showing more than ever. You see I could say this to my family and they'd understand. No. Not going to happen. Mum is pretty much the reason I'm going to uni. Don't get me wrong I want to go, yes, very much so. But Mum is the force behind all this. She's not one of those pushy mothers who don't let their child have a say in anything - no that's not it. But Mum has believed in me all along - to the point where I am kind of terrified about letting her down. Mum wants this for me because she knows how much I want it. My mum is also very stubborn and independent and amazing. She would never, ever let herself be the reason I don't go to Bangor. I mean she would totally blow her top if she knew I was even thinking about this. That's one of the many reasons I love her so much. My father also wants me to suceed and I strive to make him happy and proud. I love my dad very much and although we argue daily, he knows how much I need his approval. My sisters are also very dear to me and I will miss them lots when I go. They're both intelligent, beautiful young women who have characteristics that I would love to have myself, despite my regular teasing and banter that occurs between us. My younger brother turns fifteen this summer and is small for his age. He's fine though because he has his dreams and listens to good music - an adequate combination if you ask me.

I can continue to rant but I'm tired, so I'll probably continue another day.

X

What Do You Have To Say? - Put It On Repeat

2008-01-14T19:55:28Z

International Superhits - Green Day.

[Or any other album by them]

If you could only listen to one album for the rest of your life, which one would it be (and why)?

Brought to you by HP

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What Do You Have To Say? - Your Personal Chef

2008-01-05T16:54:33Z

George W Bush. Because my cooking really is that bad.

If you could cook for one person, who would it be and what would you serve?

Brought to you by HP

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pinkstarrypants @ 2007-12-01T00:15:00

2007-12-01T00:31:52Z

Title: Ask my name and you'll be my hero forever. (Chapter 1&2/??)
Author: Pinkstarrypants (me)
Pairing: Pete/Patrick (Fall Out Boy)
Rating: PG-13 (May increase...)
Summary: Patrick gained Pete's respect long ago but now Pete is desperate for it to be returned. Patrick is already "someone" and Pete wants to be there to, he wants this beautiful man to sing his words.
Disclaimer: Who am I kidding? Patrick is much more polite than this, and would Pete ever get this nervous??
A/N: I wrote this after watching Moulin Rouge for some unknown reason, strange.

"The pleasure will be all mine...Sir" The dark haired man whispered in a gushing tone as he pressed his soft lips on Patrick's fingers. 'Well thats a bit selfish' Patrick thought as he looked down at the man kneeling before him 'I want some pleasure too..' But whatever, the man with the beautiful sparkling eyes seemed sincere enough, so he asked his name. Because that's what you did in Patrick's world, if you accept them, you ask their name.

"Who are you?" Patrick demanded simply.

"Me?" The stranger seemed to realise what it meant for this stunning young man to request an introduction. Patrick nodded, pushing his glasses back up his nose, watching the stranger's curious look soften at the adorable action. "Wentz, Sir. Peter Wentz."

"Okay" Patrick shrugged casually, trying to remember he was just another one of them, nothing important and nothing special. But the boy with dark hair, or Peter had this look in his eye that persuaded the strawberry blonde to make an exception. Patrick turned away, partly to avoid Pete's stare, and partly so the boy still knew he would have to work harder for more respect. "And you know my name, I'm guessing?"

"Of course, sir. Patrick Stump, sir." Pete replied immeadiatly.

"Yeah, thats right. Remember that one, boy." Patrick said with a light-hearted chuckle, just to make sure Pete knew he wasn't quite as bad as popular rumour.

"Yes, sir." Pete nodded sincerely, despite the joke. Pete still added 'sir' on the end of all of his sentences that made Patrick cringe at first, but he was starting to like it now. He liked this feeling, of being in control. He liked seeing the look of admiration in Pete's eyes. He liked hearing the respect and wonder in his voice when he spoke to him. Patrick went and sat down on the brown, leather sofa across the room. He crossed his legs and looked Pete directly in the eye. Then he spoke.

"So...you're a ...singer?"

"Um....No, not really, sir. I'm a writer really, my singing is not as strong as I would like it to be - and of course no where near as good as yours, sir" Pete added quickly. "I write songs. I also play a bit of music; bass, keyboard and a little drums too. Sir" He added as an after thought, after getting a little excited, he was here telling him, Patrick Stump, what he did.

"Right. I see." Patrick looked away, adjusted his hat. "So your lyrics...do you want to show them to me? Or are you going to sing?"

"I will try and sing for you. If you don't mind, sir?"

"Go ahead, but hurry now because I have a lunch time meeting with Ryan Ross."

Pete gulped at this, Ryan Ross. Jesus. Okay, don't muck this up, Pete thought. This is your only chance, your last chance. You're lucky to be here, you fool. You are lucky to have that beautiful man, that talented, respectable man stood in front of you, so don't screw this up he told himself.

"Okay, sir."

"I call this one 'Sophomore Slump Or Comeback Of The Year'...

Are we growing up or just going down?
It's just a matter of time until we're all found out
Take our tears, put them on ice
Cause I swear I'd burn this city down to show you the light

We're the therapists pumping through your speakers
Delivering just what you need
We're well read and poised
We're the best boys
We're the chemists who've found the formula
To make your heart swell and burst
No matter what they say, don't believe a word

Cause I'll keep singing this lie if you'll keep believing it
I'll keep singing this lie
I'll keep singing this lie ..."

Patrick sat there open-mouthed and astounded. Wow. This boy was incredible. And even better? He didn't have a clue that he was. Perfect. I mean the singing wasn't great, but the lyrics were the most mind-blowing, intricate, confusing, bitterly-loving, ironic and the most genuine words he had ever heard. And he listened to a lot of songs. Pete also had something no producer, pimp or part-time jazz singer could buy. Pete had passion.

"Good." He nodded at the boy stood in front of him. "Yeah, I like the words." Patrick Stump didn't give away much. He didn't gush about just anyone and certainly wasn't going to actually tell some kid how good he was.

"Oh, Thank you." Pete smiled nervously. "I, um, I have some more songs, if you'd like to hear them...?" Pete wanted to show Patrick everything he had, he desperately wanted to impress him, he didn't care if it was silly, or childish, he just wanted this man's respect.

"Yeah? Well I haven't got long so..."

"Yes, um, sorry. Would you like me to sing again?"

"Oh, no. Please don't do that again."

"Ah. Uh, okay..." Pete trailed off, his eyes stinging. He had been waiting for this moment for...years. He had pinned all his hopes on Patrick Stump and now...it was all gone. His hero didn't like it. He dared look up from his battered converses to Patrick's face. It took him a second to notice the small smile on the man's face.

"Sorry, sorry.." Patrick started to laugh. "I don't mean to laugh. And your singing wasn't that bad."

"Um, right. But you don't want me to sing anymore?"

"No, you really weren't very good."

"I did tell you, sir, I'm not really a singer."

"Yeah, that much I can see..." Patrick adjusted his hat, Pete smiled a little bit at this. "Here's the deal...---"

"Pete, Sir."

"Pete. Here is the deal, Pete. I actually like your lyrics, I do. Don't get me wrong, but I don't need to hear you sing. Really."

"Well, I'm glad you like them, sir. I have a few written down...here." He held up a notebook in front of him. Patrick waved for him to give him the book. He flicked through a few pages and nodded.

"So. Here's what I'm gonna do...Pete. I'm gonna take another look at your lyrics and see if I could...work with them. If they seem...right...then I'll give you a call. Is that okay?"

"Oh, yes. Thank you, sir. This means a great deal to me, I really hope you like the rest, they are all very personal and it would be amazing for you to sing them..." Pete trailed off again and blushed. Patrick laughed.

"Catch you later, Wentz. I gotta dash." And with that he left. Pete's smile, which was kinda so wide it was almost creepy, stayed on his face for the rest of the day. And he waited by the phone. He waited all day. He waited all week.

Writer's Block: Google Me

2007-11-24T21:28:44Z

Have you ever Googled your own name? How do you feel about the results?

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Yeah, I have. And apparently I am a middle-aged American doctor. Waheyyy!! X

pinkstarrypants @ 2007-11-15T12:51:00

2007-11-15T12:52:21Z

OMG. SOooooO excited I'm about to leave to go see MCR in London - and I'm 18 2moro!!! X

Writer's Block: ROFL

2007-11-13T17:26:55Z

What comedian makes you pee your pants laughing?

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Lee Evans and Eddie Izzard!! Both of them make me laugh like a loon!!! Love them!! XXXXXXX

New Kid...New Punch bag?

2007-11-01T10:38:47Z

"Hey, Kid, wait up!" I heard a voice, that really couldn't be much older than me, shout after me as I left the shop. I turned around and looked up at him from under my "emo hair", yeah he is not that much older than me, maybe two years, tops.

"Yeah?" I managed in a whispery voice.

"Um, you need a lift to school?" Shit. Shouting at me would have been better, at least I could walk away and try and forget. But, friendly? I wasn't used to that. I looked at him properly, he wore a blazer with a Misfits t-shirt underneath, and his kohl rimmed eyes were looking at me, I realised I was staring.

"Uh, sure. If thats okay." He nodded with a smile.

"Thanks." I added as he held open the door of his car for me.

"So, what d'ya think?" He asked as we pulled away in his worn, old car.

"Huh?" I asked a little confused, I wasn't paying any attention. Just looking at the way his hands glided smoothly over the steering wheel.

"What do you think? Of this place?" This time making eye contact.

"It's okay, I guess. Seen worse." I replied, honestly.

"Yeah? Moved around a bit?"

"Yeah." Okay, so I don't give away much. He nodded, seeming to understand.

"Well if you want someone to show you around, then, hey I'd wouldn't mind." He suggested cheerily. Shit, no. Here comes the kindness and my social skills and equipped for this. They only have one mode; defensive. I swallowed.

"Well, yeah. I haven't seen much yet so If you want - sounds good." I added the last part so he didn't think I was a total jerk.

"Cool. Well put your number in here then." He casually passed me his mobile. Fuck, this is a first. Hands shaking, I added my mobile to his phone.

"You okay?" He asked. "You seem a little...jumpy."

"Nah, I'm okay." Feeling my heart beat faster. He must have seen my hands shaking, I fidgeted, moving my hands to smooth down my trousers.

"Guess you're just nervous about being the new kid at school, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess." I replied perhaps a little too quickly.

He leant forward and pressed 'Play' on the car CD player. A familiar voice came flooding through the speakers and it immeadiatly calmed my nerves a bit, yet excited me at the same time.

"You like Green Day?" I asked unable to hide the impression in my voice.

"Only, like their biggest fan." He laughed.

"Yeah, well me second then, but only 'cos I haven't seen them yet. Have you?" He grinned.

"Yep. Last year. They were amazing."

"Shit, really? Well I'm jealous." I mocked an angry face at him. He laughed, it was beautiful when he laughed. I was staring again. I blinked and forced myself to look out of the window at this new, unfamiliar town. But it was just another town.

By the end of 'Maria' we were pulling into the school gates and panic re-entered my body. Palms sweaty, heart beating fast and I started to feel sick. I felt him squeeze my hand, I jumped at the sudden touch.

"Try not to worry. I know you're worried about fitting in - 'cos you're different - like me." I looked up at his face, his pale skin only empthasised by the dark eyeliner. His shoulder long, dyed black hair hung about his face.

"Do they hate you, Gerard?" He asked the guy looking at him with sincerity and kindness it just made him want to hold the older boy close.

"Who?"

"The kids at school. Do they hate you?" He looked away. Smile gone.

"Well they don't really like me, no."

My eyes flicker over his equally tight, girly jeans and his painted finger nails, black like mine. My gaze travels to his CD collection; Misfits, Iron Maiden, The Used and Nirvana being a few.

"No...Okay." I respond quietly. I didn't mean to offend him, yet I could see the hurt in his hazel eyes. "I'm sorry." He looked back up at me.

"No, you're right. There is no use pretending guys like us will ever fit in and be accepted. I just didn't want you to be scared."

I sighed.

"Thank you. But yeah I am scared. And yeah I will get bullied today. But hey whats new? You don't have to feel bad about this - but thanks for being concerned." I stepped out of his car and so did he. I looked to the ground.

"Well, uh, see you around?"

"Yeah, probably." I looked around at the sterotypical cheerleader and jock-type students around me. "I don't think I'll be hard to miss." He laughed.

"No, thats true." And with a cute little wave he started to walk away. I allowed my eyes to drift to his ass for a second or two, damn. Those jeans do him justice. I pulled my eyes away and shuffled off to the front office. Another new school. Another snotty receptionist. Here we go again....

pinkstarrypants @ 2007-10-09T16:53:00

2007-10-09T16:01:02Z

Awake and Sober, not your type.

I'm sobering up
I'm shivering now
My head is aching
and I'm reaching out.
I find you there, just as cold.
I stretch out to you,
you turn away,
in time with my heart.

I'm awake, don't wanna be
I'm awake, so you'll stand up and leave

I look around to see you there
my eyes focus in but trying not to stare
you've zipped up your jeans
and you're ready to leave.
Leave me now while I'm sobering up
I guess you'll leave me now,
'cause I'm not much use to you now...

I'm awake, don't wanna be
I'm awake, so you'll stand up and leave

My stomach is churning
with guilt and alcohol
My liver is aching from the taste
of regret, that poison you fed me
made me do things
that made me as cheap as the lager
you bought me at the party from hell
where it was all going well untill you
turned up alone, and watching me dance.
Dance, dance is all I could do.

I'm awake, don't wanna be
I'm awake, so you'll stand up and leave

Leave 'cause I'm sober.
Leave 'cause I'm awake.
Leave 'cause I'm cold
and just another drunken mistake.

The Morning After - Billie/Mike

2007-10-09T15:44:35Z

"Ugh...Billie?" Mike groaned turning over to face a sleeping boy curled up beside him. Billie was cuddling into Mike, an arm wrapped around the blonde's slender waist. Mike's peircing blue eyes glanced around the room before looking back down at his best friend. They were in Billie's bedroom. This part didn't surprise him. Mike had been living with the Armstrong's for a few months now, since Mike couldn't stand it any longer at "home". It had gotten too much. The resentment, the fighting, the not-being-wanted and the generally hatred in that damned household. Here, it was better. Here there was love and for this chance he was eternally grateful for everything Billie's mom had give him, especially considering how little she had herself.

So, yeah, it wasn't unusual to wake up in Billie's room. He did that every day now. But this was the first time he had woken up in his best friend's bed, with his beautiful best friend's body entwined with his own. Mike sighed happily and let the confusion drift away with any guilt that was there before. After all he had hardly taken advantage of his older friend. Due to the lack of alcohol or weed lately, they had both been clean and sober, no excuses.

The adorable brunnette boy that was led beside him made sweet sounds as he breathed in time with the rise and fall of Mike's own chest. After a few minutes of just lying there holding the sleeping boy in his surprisingly muscular arms, he leant in and kissed Billie, taking a huge risk. Which is usually something that Billie did, rather than the friendly but sometimes bashful teenager.

Mike leaned in so close he could feel Billie's hot breath on his tingling skin. Mike kept his eyes open as he pressed his mouth against Billie's perfectly shaped lips that must have been made for kissing, 'preferably me' Mike thought. Mike's lips crashed clumsily against Billie's warm skin, not expecting a response. He allowed his eyes to flutter shut, enjoying the moment for a second or two. Then he pulled away. In a split-second Billie flung his arm around his neck and passionatly kissed him back, with all the effort he could manage after having just woken up. Mike was as surprised as he was happy, which was about the same amount as he was aroused. 'Damn' he thought 'Billie looks hot in the morning'. On a second of reflection Mike changed his mind 'No. Billie just looks hot.'

The older of the two pushed Mike against the matress becoming more dominant with each breath. Billie pulled away and looked down at his best friend with a typical-Billie-smirk on his face. Mike laughed, partly with relief, things weren't weird. Well, yeah, okay it was weird but not in a bad way. How can this be bad?
He thought as Billie relaxed and rested his head back on Mike's chest. Not bad at all, Mike concluded. Who ever said that 'The Morning After' is an awkward, horrible, tense moment? As Mike kissed Billie gently on the forehead, he silently wished that he could wake up every mornng like this. He prayed in his mind that every moring could be 'The Morning After' mostly so that every night could be like the Night Before.

Music is my life.

2007-09-16T16:45:30Z

Man, I love music. I love the way I know the lyrics and the way they seem to know me. I love the feeling switching on my CD player, and waiting in anticipation as one of my hero's fill the room with their overwhelmingly powerful voice.I love it when I listen to Green Day on my laptop, they make me feel happy again, I love Billie Joe in a way that few people can understand, they are punk, they are love. I love the bass lines and imagining Mr Wentz spin around on stage with his best friend, Patrick, voice of an angel, singing with all the passion he feels for Pete's lyrics. I love the dramatic concepts that Gerard contemplated when he was so drunk he couldn't give a fuck what colour his hair was. I love Kurt Cobain's voice and the strange song's that I don't even have to try to relate to. I admire Panic! at the Disco for stepping out and daring to do something different, and yet not losing their own identity, I love it that they're not sure how good they are and still feel they have something to prove. I love seeing an incredible band get up on stage and show the audience why they are there, and how we all sing along as if in approval and acceptance, even though it's not always needed but always appreciated.

Forgetting you won't happen tonight.

2007-09-16T16:41:10Z

I'm sorry.

This was never meant to happen.

I know it's screwed up and weird

and all those other things you must think about me.

Sorry.

My flaws were never meant to fall through.

We were friends back then,

before all this began.

I always admired you from afar,

I always kept the door open,

if not a little ajar.

You made me see just how

this average life can be.

You made it exciting.

And scary.

And fun.

And during this time I learnt about love.

'Cos I asked for some time

and you gave me an adventure

full of kisses and holding

our breath on the run.

Now this ride is over I've forgotten

how it started but remember each twist

in between.

How i held your hand as you led me

the way, and how i steered you back

again.

'Cos we never were quite normal

and neither of us like to conform.

From your rebellious streak

to the way you despise pink.

it's all what I love about you.

See although you say it's over now,

I can't quite imagine not to kiss

your lips,or touch your face

Sure we can take part in casual

chat, amongst friends and the like.

And maybe the odd flicker of wanting

could one day be enough.

And we could pretend none of this happened.

And that i don't know how you taste

or the look in your face when I tell you

how beautiful you are.

I can't forget. Can you?

Political Ramblings - Part 1

2007-09-16T16:37:39Z

Can the greatness of America excuse the mistakes they have made?

Can God tell us why our prayers are not answered?

Can faith and religion steer us towards or away from self-destruction?

Can war ever stop?

Can Jesus just get drunk with us and describe his intricate word-wide prank?

Can we all be saved from humanity itself?

Can homes be made warm?

Can hearts be fixed?

Can food be shared equally?

And water, medicine and love?

Can we wake up with gratitude and ambition?

Can world leaders get off their sawdust pedastols?

Can we turn our heads towards the hunger and disease?

Can we actually change as a nation and bled as a whole?

Can education save the young ones and make them understand?

Can the media join our team and give back some humans their dignity?

Can we share love not hate? And honour words not guns?

Can peace ever be made?

Can the innocent forgive us?

Can't or won't?

What Do You Have To Say? - Music: My First Favorite Band

2007-09-10T20:38:15Z

What was the first band you became a fan of?

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Oooh. Oh gosh. A fan? The first band I became a proper fan of would be Green Day. Over the past years it has become an obbsession lol but yeah it is definetly not "just a phase" I now have all 10 of their album's and a few of their old singles. A couple of DVD's. t-shirts, hoody, wristbands etc anyway yeah. I Love Green Day. Billie Joe For president! x

What Do You Have To Say? - Writing: Makes Me A Better Writer

2007-09-04T19:43:35Z

What's been your biggest influence in making you a better writer?

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My biggest influence in making me a better writer has to be my best friend, Fiona. Everyday we both carry a notebook with us to wrtie when we feel we want to. And whenever we can we read each other's poetry, lyrics, short stories and religious or politcal ramblings. Whatever we happen to write, we show each other. Her writing astounds me. It always leaves me feeling some kind of strong emotion: anger, vengance, ambition, amusment, love but usually some kind of empathy towards the character involved in the writing. Fiona's writing always inspires me, and originally made me start writing in the first place. Although I am far from good, and certainly not of a similar standard as her, I'd like to think that with her criticism and guidance I might get better.