bellasmith
04-24-2009, 05:31 PM
hi. i haven't written much of this yet, or in any real order but here are a few extracts from what i've written so far. i was just wondering what people think of them, what's wrong with them etc.
ONE
It gave me a real buzz. I used to shoplift earrings and sweets and pens - little insignificant things like that - when I was in Year 7, and once even a doll that I picked up from a market stall when everybody was watching and literally just ran for it. That gave me the sort of buzz that I wanted. Anyway, I never got caught, except by my mum and even then it wasn't because I was bad at shoplifting; I was just stupid and wrote it all down in my diary which she must've found and read (she claimed a friend had told her that she'd seen me and my sister, but that was a blatant lie because they couldn't've seen both of us, we never shoplifted together.) Anyway, I used to do it in Year 7 for the thrills but now I seriously needed some new clothes. I know I'd never get caught, it's easy, but in a way I feel kind of guilty for ethical reasons, I guess. I know that sounds stupid, and to be honest I don't think I believe in God but I just have this irrational fear that because stealing is a sin I might one day go to hell and that kind of scares me. But then I think, bull****, that's just me being brainwashed by religion which was probably created so people like me wouldn't do things like this, and anyway, if it's all true, I've already done it before so I guess I'm already bound for hell so there'll be no harm in continuing my habit. Plus, it's hardly like stealing from people. I wouldn't do that, I'd feel guilty afterwards but what's a bag to a huge company? The doll incident was the only time I ever felt guilty, actually, and that's because the woman selling them actually handmade them and it would've taken her time and she would've noticed.
When you're walking towards the door, and you're thinking, "****, ****, ****, the alarm's gonna ****ing go off..." and then you emerge through the doors unscathed with something that you've got for absolutely nothing and people walk by as normal and you feel a mixture of relief and elation and, more than anything else, a burning desire to do it again. In a different shop, though.
TWO
It gave me a real buzz. I used to shoplift earrings and sweets and pens - little insignificant things like that - when I was in Year 7, and once even a doll that I picked up from a market stall when everybody was watching and literally just ran for it. That gave me the sort of buzz that I wanted. Anyway, I never got caught, except by my mum and even then it wasn't because I was bad at shoplifting; I was just stupid and wrote it all down in my diary which she must've found and read (she claimed a friend had told her that she'd seen me and my sister, but that was a blatant lie because they couldn't've seen both of us, we never shoplifted together.) Anyway, I used to do it in Year 7 for the thrills but now I seriously needed some new clothes. I know I'd never get caught, it's easy, but in a way I feel kind of guilty for ethical reasons, I guess. I know that sounds stupid, and to be honest I don't think I believe in God but I just have this irrational fear that because stealing is a sin I might one day go to hell and that kind of scares me. But then I think, bull****, that's just me being brainwashed by religion which was probably created so people like me wouldn't do things like this, and anyway, if it's all true, I've already done it before so I guess I'm already bound for hell so there'll be no harm in continuing my habit. Plus, it's hardly like stealing from people. I wouldn't do that, I'd feel guilty afterwards but what's a bag to a huge company? The doll incident was the only time I ever felt guilty, actually, and that's because the woman selling them actually handmade them and it would've taken her time and she would've noticed.
When you're walking towards the door, and you're thinking, "****, ****, ****, the alarm's gonna ****ing go off..." and then you emerge through the doors unscathed with something that you've got for absolutely nothing and people walk by as normal and you feel a mixture of relief and elation and, more than anything else, a burning desire to do it again. In a different shop, though.
I always get confused about what I'm looking for. Like, sometimes, I just think I want to be the younger, tattooed, pierced version of Pamela Anderson who goes out with an older man who has a car (sorry to be so cliché) and is maybe a tattoo artist or something and you have sex in his flat in Brighton while Pour Some Sugar on Me is playing in the background. That sounds a little specific, and that's because it is, I guess; I've been there and done that, except without the tattoos because I was only fourteen. My boyfriend, if you can call it that, was twenty three and had a chest piece tattoo and lived in a flat in Brighton. He said he worked in a piercing studio but actually I think that was just a trick to get me into bed with him because he knew that's what I was looking for. After that 'relationship', I convinced myself I wanted something more meaningful so away went the skimpy clothing and piercings and heavy eye makeup. I replaced them with white tights and got my natural hair colour back and started listening to slow acoustic songs with meaning; Lily and me used to go to Brick Lane every Sunday hoping to find an indie boy who would appreciate my new look, and eventually I did: he was called Francis and he wore ridiculously tight jeans and pointy boots, but after going out with him for two weeks I got bored by his kooky facade.
I was fourteen. It's kind of slutty I guess, I got really depressed for a bit afterwards because I felt so dirty and certain school friends starting treating me differently, but then I convinced myself - sex is sex, why is virginity so important? Just because it's the first time of doing something doesn't mean it has to be with 'the one' or whatever. Who knows how long you could be waiting for the love of your life? If you wait around you'll probably panic when you're eighteen about going to university still being a virgin, and you'll do it with the first willing boy - ie first male you see - and in that case, you might aswell just have done it when you were fourteen. Anyway,
I didn't know what to do, to be honest. Comment on the fact that his hands were creeping not so slowly up my leg or just stay silent? I opted for the latter, and he didn't seem to mind.
"You're making me sooo hard," Louis whispered in what he must have thought was a sexual voice. He smelt of cigarette smoke and cider and that combined with the general uncomfortable surroundings, I felt like shouting, "Oh hurry up, if you're so hard, ****ing do it, I don't have all night." But obviously I didn't. I just kind of stood there awkwardly, smiling at him, letting him do what he wanted to do and then afterwards, as we walked out of the toilets together, following his lead and not talking about what had just happened but instead talking animatedly about what bus to get home as if either of us even cared.
I've mugged someone before. I don't know if I'd actually use that word, though. I mean, officially, yes, Lily and I mugged a man but it was more of a heroic deed than something worthy of an ASBO. Basically, Lily's boyfriend wanted her to give him head but she didn't know how and didn't want to do it wrong, so we decided we'd go to Soho and find a willing man - not too hard, let's face it - to practise on. Approximately one minute after coming out of Leicester Square station, we found a man. Disgusting, drunk, obviously erect, and stumbling about with a leer on his face. We approached him.
"I'm lost," he mumbled, leaning unnecessarily close towards us and reeking of beer and, somehow, piss. "You know way to the erm...hotel."
"No." I said in a bored voice. I pointed at Lily."Anyway, do you want heer to give you a blow job?"
Admittedly, that sounds a bit strange, and obviously I'd never do that with a fit boy, or even a normal boy, but there's no point in niceties with the kind of louts you get hanging round Soho by themselves on a Thursday night.
"For free?" The man said in a dazed voice, looking between us both.
"Yeah."
"Okay...you want to come back to hotel?"
"No, we'll go to the park." Lily said, with a subtle hint of excitement in her voice, and I immediately knew there'd be no head tonight. Something equally as exciting, I hoped. I couldn't figure out what fun we'd have in a park, but went along with it anyway.
Fifteen minutes later, the three of us were standing in St James' Park in the pitch black. The man pulled his pants down and stood there expectantly.
"You're gonna have to lie down," Lily said, no longer bothering to hide her disgust at this man.
"Okay," the man whispered. He did as he was told. Lily began to give him a hand job, and I was a bit confused at first, because I definitely didn't think this was part of the plan but then I noticed she was making wide eyes at me and as the man writhed round on the ground, I noticed she was nodding meaningfully towards his wallet which he had carelessly tossed by his side on the grass. Even for us, this was a bit extreme. Giving a hand job to a foreigner in a park in order to get our hands on a few measly notes. But without thinking, I grabbed it, and we both legged it. The man was chasing us, it should have been scary really but we were laughing too much to care. We ran all the way back to Picadilly and went into Burger King, but then got scared that the man would tell the police and we'd be arrested or something, so we sat in Burger King for ages and blew all the money we'd stolen on chips and coke.
ONE
It gave me a real buzz. I used to shoplift earrings and sweets and pens - little insignificant things like that - when I was in Year 7, and once even a doll that I picked up from a market stall when everybody was watching and literally just ran for it. That gave me the sort of buzz that I wanted. Anyway, I never got caught, except by my mum and even then it wasn't because I was bad at shoplifting; I was just stupid and wrote it all down in my diary which she must've found and read (she claimed a friend had told her that she'd seen me and my sister, but that was a blatant lie because they couldn't've seen both of us, we never shoplifted together.) Anyway, I used to do it in Year 7 for the thrills but now I seriously needed some new clothes. I know I'd never get caught, it's easy, but in a way I feel kind of guilty for ethical reasons, I guess. I know that sounds stupid, and to be honest I don't think I believe in God but I just have this irrational fear that because stealing is a sin I might one day go to hell and that kind of scares me. But then I think, bull****, that's just me being brainwashed by religion which was probably created so people like me wouldn't do things like this, and anyway, if it's all true, I've already done it before so I guess I'm already bound for hell so there'll be no harm in continuing my habit. Plus, it's hardly like stealing from people. I wouldn't do that, I'd feel guilty afterwards but what's a bag to a huge company? The doll incident was the only time I ever felt guilty, actually, and that's because the woman selling them actually handmade them and it would've taken her time and she would've noticed.
When you're walking towards the door, and you're thinking, "****, ****, ****, the alarm's gonna ****ing go off..." and then you emerge through the doors unscathed with something that you've got for absolutely nothing and people walk by as normal and you feel a mixture of relief and elation and, more than anything else, a burning desire to do it again. In a different shop, though.
TWO
It gave me a real buzz. I used to shoplift earrings and sweets and pens - little insignificant things like that - when I was in Year 7, and once even a doll that I picked up from a market stall when everybody was watching and literally just ran for it. That gave me the sort of buzz that I wanted. Anyway, I never got caught, except by my mum and even then it wasn't because I was bad at shoplifting; I was just stupid and wrote it all down in my diary which she must've found and read (she claimed a friend had told her that she'd seen me and my sister, but that was a blatant lie because they couldn't've seen both of us, we never shoplifted together.) Anyway, I used to do it in Year 7 for the thrills but now I seriously needed some new clothes. I know I'd never get caught, it's easy, but in a way I feel kind of guilty for ethical reasons, I guess. I know that sounds stupid, and to be honest I don't think I believe in God but I just have this irrational fear that because stealing is a sin I might one day go to hell and that kind of scares me. But then I think, bull****, that's just me being brainwashed by religion which was probably created so people like me wouldn't do things like this, and anyway, if it's all true, I've already done it before so I guess I'm already bound for hell so there'll be no harm in continuing my habit. Plus, it's hardly like stealing from people. I wouldn't do that, I'd feel guilty afterwards but what's a bag to a huge company? The doll incident was the only time I ever felt guilty, actually, and that's because the woman selling them actually handmade them and it would've taken her time and she would've noticed.
When you're walking towards the door, and you're thinking, "****, ****, ****, the alarm's gonna ****ing go off..." and then you emerge through the doors unscathed with something that you've got for absolutely nothing and people walk by as normal and you feel a mixture of relief and elation and, more than anything else, a burning desire to do it again. In a different shop, though.
I always get confused about what I'm looking for. Like, sometimes, I just think I want to be the younger, tattooed, pierced version of Pamela Anderson who goes out with an older man who has a car (sorry to be so cliché) and is maybe a tattoo artist or something and you have sex in his flat in Brighton while Pour Some Sugar on Me is playing in the background. That sounds a little specific, and that's because it is, I guess; I've been there and done that, except without the tattoos because I was only fourteen. My boyfriend, if you can call it that, was twenty three and had a chest piece tattoo and lived in a flat in Brighton. He said he worked in a piercing studio but actually I think that was just a trick to get me into bed with him because he knew that's what I was looking for. After that 'relationship', I convinced myself I wanted something more meaningful so away went the skimpy clothing and piercings and heavy eye makeup. I replaced them with white tights and got my natural hair colour back and started listening to slow acoustic songs with meaning; Lily and me used to go to Brick Lane every Sunday hoping to find an indie boy who would appreciate my new look, and eventually I did: he was called Francis and he wore ridiculously tight jeans and pointy boots, but after going out with him for two weeks I got bored by his kooky facade.
I was fourteen. It's kind of slutty I guess, I got really depressed for a bit afterwards because I felt so dirty and certain school friends starting treating me differently, but then I convinced myself - sex is sex, why is virginity so important? Just because it's the first time of doing something doesn't mean it has to be with 'the one' or whatever. Who knows how long you could be waiting for the love of your life? If you wait around you'll probably panic when you're eighteen about going to university still being a virgin, and you'll do it with the first willing boy - ie first male you see - and in that case, you might aswell just have done it when you were fourteen. Anyway,
I didn't know what to do, to be honest. Comment on the fact that his hands were creeping not so slowly up my leg or just stay silent? I opted for the latter, and he didn't seem to mind.
"You're making me sooo hard," Louis whispered in what he must have thought was a sexual voice. He smelt of cigarette smoke and cider and that combined with the general uncomfortable surroundings, I felt like shouting, "Oh hurry up, if you're so hard, ****ing do it, I don't have all night." But obviously I didn't. I just kind of stood there awkwardly, smiling at him, letting him do what he wanted to do and then afterwards, as we walked out of the toilets together, following his lead and not talking about what had just happened but instead talking animatedly about what bus to get home as if either of us even cared.
I've mugged someone before. I don't know if I'd actually use that word, though. I mean, officially, yes, Lily and I mugged a man but it was more of a heroic deed than something worthy of an ASBO. Basically, Lily's boyfriend wanted her to give him head but she didn't know how and didn't want to do it wrong, so we decided we'd go to Soho and find a willing man - not too hard, let's face it - to practise on. Approximately one minute after coming out of Leicester Square station, we found a man. Disgusting, drunk, obviously erect, and stumbling about with a leer on his face. We approached him.
"I'm lost," he mumbled, leaning unnecessarily close towards us and reeking of beer and, somehow, piss. "You know way to the erm...hotel."
"No." I said in a bored voice. I pointed at Lily."Anyway, do you want heer to give you a blow job?"
Admittedly, that sounds a bit strange, and obviously I'd never do that with a fit boy, or even a normal boy, but there's no point in niceties with the kind of louts you get hanging round Soho by themselves on a Thursday night.
"For free?" The man said in a dazed voice, looking between us both.
"Yeah."
"Okay...you want to come back to hotel?"
"No, we'll go to the park." Lily said, with a subtle hint of excitement in her voice, and I immediately knew there'd be no head tonight. Something equally as exciting, I hoped. I couldn't figure out what fun we'd have in a park, but went along with it anyway.
Fifteen minutes later, the three of us were standing in St James' Park in the pitch black. The man pulled his pants down and stood there expectantly.
"You're gonna have to lie down," Lily said, no longer bothering to hide her disgust at this man.
"Okay," the man whispered. He did as he was told. Lily began to give him a hand job, and I was a bit confused at first, because I definitely didn't think this was part of the plan but then I noticed she was making wide eyes at me and as the man writhed round on the ground, I noticed she was nodding meaningfully towards his wallet which he had carelessly tossed by his side on the grass. Even for us, this was a bit extreme. Giving a hand job to a foreigner in a park in order to get our hands on a few measly notes. But without thinking, I grabbed it, and we both legged it. The man was chasing us, it should have been scary really but we were laughing too much to care. We ran all the way back to Picadilly and went into Burger King, but then got scared that the man would tell the police and we'd be arrested or something, so we sat in Burger King for ages and blew all the money we'd stolen on chips and coke.