- Mood:
Dominance - Listening to: I remember - Damien Rice
- Reading: Nothing=(
- Watching: Our pets play.
- Playing: Nothing.
- Eating: Nothing
- Drinking: Pepsi.
The Black Dahlia: Elizabeth Short (July 29, 1924 ca. January 15, 1947) was an American woman who was the victim of a gruesome and much-publicized murder. She acquired the nickname Black Dahlia after moving to California. Short was found mutilated, her body dismembered, on January 15, 1947 in Leimert Park, Los Angeles, California. The murder, which remains unsolved, has been the source of widespread speculation as well as several books and film adaptations.
I got this from wikipedia dumbass. Read a book. Mutilated and dismembered would be a better title to your chapter. Because that's all you've done.
You see, I'm living in Toronto now, school is right around the corner and I'm sitting here in pain. I'm in pain for a number of reasons, the most constant is her. She had lead along, cheated on and ripped apart the soul of ma douce. But, she still lingers like the fucking plague. I have to be picked, but 'she' did the picking. Now ma belle hurts and I'm left to wondering if it were different, would she really be here?
I can't even write a review for the story which 'she' fucks my girlfriend in fanfiction style. So I'll write it here. Call me mean and cruel, I'm being honest.
"Your story is pretentious. I say that because the emotions are fake, there is no proof otherwise. The dialogue just drags on and on but really, who is following this train wreck? There are more than several spelling errors and grammer errors. The only thing you did manage to do is create a good title. Not because of the flower you speak of, nay. Because all you've really done to ma douce is mutilate and taint her soul. Clearly writing isn't your fortay.
The attempt at erotica does nothing, mainly because there is no passion there.
How can there be? The one you wrote this for is taken, shes happy. She had waited so long for you, but what did you do instead? You cheated on her, treated her like shit, and forgot about her. Now, now that she has someone, moving on from you, you pull this shit? Listen, if she wanted to wait anymore, she wouldn't have said yes to being mine.
She is not yours.
I on the other hand, will fight until my very last breath escapes me. I will cry out to the rest of the world that my heart is hers and that I love her more than the air I breathe.
You don't know what that love is, you only know obsession. You want her because there is no possiblity of being yours; because the chance you had is gone and you know will never return. All you are is pathetic. So get a girlfriend, and write about fucking someone else.
She is my lady."
I'm moments away to adding this to her page. Where ma douce has written to her. She should know someone else has seen this shit and is moments away of having a little too much fun.
I've also written a monologue called Black Dahlia. Because I'm a cunt and definately not going to lay down and take this. It also says a lot of what has been going on. Its partially fiction and a lot of fact.