jaelynroselinski

[jaelynroselinski]

Tinder Date by Jaelyn Rose Linski

Tinder Date “What is your greatest fear?” He asked dauntlessly. He had no reason for asking the question other than curiosity. Eyebrows raised, that sly smirk on his face; he thought he could predict my answer. He probably expected that I would say something like heights or spiders or some other monotonous, common fear. It was only after I told him my fear that his face turned to stone, frozen with dread. His brown eyes, like the trunk of a worn tree, illuminated with terror. They couldn’t have seen me coming. “My fear, “I told him while looking into those soft, brown eyes. Locking him in until I was ready to release him from my stare; I shifted my focus to the brass candlestick on the mantle. “Is that you will walk out of my house alive tonight.” I felt the elation sending chills up my spine; that exciting feeling someone gets just before they drop down the hill of a giant rollercoaster. He didn’t move, wondering if I was kidding. Maybe he thought I was a method actor or a prankster. I’m certainly not kidding. This isn’t a joke to me. It is a game of skill, strategy, and survival. “Tell me, Scott, what is your greatest fear?” I do love asking this question to watch him squirm about, uncomfortable with being frightened. The reveal of his answer seemed to be like a child anticipating opening their biggest present under the tree on Christmas morning. Hesitation marked his face secondary to the dubiety of answering truthfully, sarcastically, or presently. “My greatest fear is…” He trailed off like an award show host, leaving the audience in suspense before the presentation. The suspense began to stab me in the gut, twisting the knife of apprehension with every second of silence. “That I will be forever known as the idiot who was killed by a crazy girl on a Tinder date.” He chose sarcasm and wit. I had to applaud him for his courage to speak to me in that tone. The more he despised me, the more it turned me on to think of his detest. He then realized that the Jack and Coke was spiked with a little secret ingredient once he attempted to rise from his chair; the drug was now paralyzing his lower limbs. He could only scream and watch the horror and agony unfold before him. “Silly boy, I’m not going to kill you.” He was confused and relieved, possibly thinking that this was all a joke. Again. This is not a joke. “Then what the fuck did you give me? What are you doing?” Panic—sheer panic. I couldn’t help but feed off of his fear that was providing me with a feast tonight. “Don’t worry about that, it is just going to make this easier for you. Or at least for Martin. He’s the one you should be worried about.” “Who’s Martin?” He ask, tears staining his face as the rolled down his cheek, chin, then onto his lap. I reached for the bell on the mirrored side table, then rung it to notify Martin that it was time to dine. I had been fasting all day and the appetizer of fear didn’t come close to filling me up. Martin entered, he always looks so adorable in his chef’s hat. Just seven years old, a culinary prodigy. “Martin, my love. Please make sure to chop each limb off evenly. I’ll help you with the intestines later. Oh, and please drain me a glass of blood after he is dismembered. I’m in desperate need of his sweet sustenance.” Martin grabbed a martini glass from the bar cart and sat it on the side table in preparation. He picked up his ax and began to chop away. The blood splattered the room like a Jackson Pollock painting. Scott screamed predictively. He said “Please God, no!” and “Why are you doing this to me?” He even threw in the unsurprising “Please, I’m begging you! You don’t have to do this!” that everyone says. I sometimes wish people would be a little more anomalous when they meet their demise. “Oh, Martin,” I snapped my fingers. “My bloodtini?” I demanded rather than asked, nearly faint from being so famished. He poured me a glass from the severed carotid artery and handed me the glass. I fell in love with each drop of blood as they struck my taste buds. “Martin, would you like a sip?” He was so eager to try the innocent boy’s blood. I lifted the glass slightly and watched as his eyes widened as the blood landed on the clusters of bulbous nerve endings on his tongue. “Martin, you’re such a good boy. After we cut up and freeze the intestines, I’ll show you how to swipe right.”

[jaelynroselinski]

•Mad Max films

•G-Eazy songs

•Maze Runner Books

•McDonald's

•Salt water breezes

when you get this, respond w five things that make u happy. then send this to the last ten people in your notifications

• iced tea

• tv shows

• ice cream

• a sunny day

• stupid puns

[jaelynroselinski]

[jaelynroselinski]

The Life & Times of a Poor, College Student

Today I received $500 for graduating college (don’t worry, I’m going back in the fall) and for my twenty second birthday. I also found out that my deductible for my car insurance is needed to be paid now. Guess how much? $500.

[jaelynroselinski]

Story of my life.

[jaelynroselinski]

Where he at doe?

Visit Inspiring Pictures for more Life Quotes, Moving On Quotes, Best Life Quotes, Letting Go Quotes, Enjoying Life Quotes and Depressing Quotes

[jaelynroselinski]

The less you say, the more weight your words will carry.

Leigh Bardugo, Siege and Storm (via booksqouted)

[jaelynroselinski]

Crawl of Shame written by Jaelyn Rose Linski

I left, or more correctly, I crawled out of his apartment while attempting to piece together the events from last night. I always tried to be responsible, but hey, I'm in my twenties. If now isn't the time to make mistakes, I don't know when is. I don't know if I even liked this guy rather than the idea of him. The idea of not being alone; of getting lost in the night with another soul just as lost as I am. I couldn't help but think of how things could have gone or should have gone. Maybe I would have eaten dinner before taking countless fireball shots. Maybe I would have not let him kiss me. Maybe I would have met him out instead of going to his place first. I thought of my life; my train wreck of a life while searching for my pants and shirt. I was still wearing everything else and could taste the puke in my hair. I didn't want to look in the mirror. Not just because I was sure my hair looked like a lion's mane and my make-up was smeared, but because I could look at the woman I let myself be. I won't say become, because I'm still evolving. Still growing. Still figuring out my life by way of mistakes in which I hope to learn from at some time or another. I wasn't overly ashamed or embarrassed, and that made me hate myself more. I didn't do anything wrong. I didn't sleep with a stranger rather than lie next to him after a night of drunk make out sessions and vomiting Vodka Red Bull. A re-evaluation of my life was to ensue. As soon as I find my other shoe. Geez, Evaina, how far could you have walked through his apartment with one six inch heel on? I hoped that he wouldn't wake up. Not until I found my shoe and had a chance to look more put together. Not physically, but mentally. I thought about last night more. I remember leaving the club. I kind of remember getting into the cab. I kind of remember getting back to his place. I don't remember taking my clothes off. I do remember feeling sick and throwing up. I could almost taste the emesis as I recalled upon last night's escapades. Okay, I have a decent summary of last night. Now what? He's never going to talk to me again. Why would he want to? No one wants to date a girl who gets sloppy drunk, takes her clothes off, and throws up in their bathroom. Should I just leave? I could text him and say that I had to go. I should just wake him up to say bye and to have him lock the door behind me. Do I remember how to get back to the elevator? Or to my car? I remembered what I said as he led me to his apartment earlier last night. "Wow, this would be a terrible walk of shame." Yes, how long would I wander the hallways in last night's apparel until I escaped the shameful maze I led myself into? I continued crawling until I reached the bathroom. I closed the door as if I was a delinquent teenager sneaking out of my parents' house for the night. I flipped on the switch, not surprised by my appearance or the nausea that was nearly debilitating. I hated myself for getting into this situation. I hated the horrible hangover that I had. And I hated myself for not having enough dignity. Where did it go? I guess it became obsolete with the rest of modern day Americans' dignity. This lifestyle wasn't frowned upon, it was glorified. How could I hate myself for being a part of society? No need to restate the "If everyone was jumping off a bridge" spiel but still. Everyone was doing it. Celebrities posted pictures of it and laughed about their drunken adventures on talk shows. TV shows, movies, books. They were all showcasing this life. How do I rise above the societal norms that encapsulate me? Do I want to change? Do I care what this guy will think or any of his neighbors who may see me make my walk of shame? Do I care about all the other drunk youths dancing in the club last night who saw us kissing? I don't even know what I care about anymore. I had to think of it in a different way. Will thirty year old Evaina look back on her life and call these days the "glory days?" I doubt that when I'm reminiscing about my twenties that I won't want to brag about the one time (or twelve times) that I woke up topless in a stranger's bed? Will I describe the horrible feeling moving so slowing out of their bed that you feel as if you're chained to it (unless you literally are)? I may laugh about it later. Say, "Well, you live and learn." while my smile fades and guilt intensifies. I'll then look down and change the conversation to something brighter. I don't care how many people have been there. I don't want to be there anymore. I don't want to be here anymore. I had to be an adult about this and not scurry away like a child. I opened the bathroom door and walked into his bedroom. I felt nothing. I tapped on him, waking him up. I could only imagine the awkward look on my face. I'm sure that it matched his well. He didn't say much, just walked me over to the door and opened it. We didn't hug and I didn't even look him in the eye. He told me to keep taking lefts until I reached the elevator. That was that. I walked to my car in last night's clothes, with puke in my hair, and dignity that was nowhere to be found.

[jaelynroselinski]

Story of my life

[jaelynroselinski]

I wish I was this happy about anything right now. Omg loved this.

this is so funny & pure

[jaelynroselinski]

With a little help from my friends

I'd like to think that at different times in my life I was popular, likable, and had many friends. After turning twenty one, I began losing many of the friends I acquired in high school, college, and beyond. Randomly and rapidly losing friends didn't help with my depression, anxiety, or "naturally" low self-esteem. I miss some of them. Sometimes losing friends hurts worse than a break up. But if they don't want to be my friend, I'm not the kind of person who will beg. Most of the time I just got angry or found it comical. Some don't like how I act. Maybe I'm too slutty or outspoken or rude. But if you knew these people, you'd realize they are all those things and more. I'm not blindly judging. These were things I noticed right away. I find myself more forgiving than most. I'm a firm believer in second chances. Maybe that's my problem. Why I find it so random when someone says that he or she doesn't want to hang out with me anymore; because I've put up with so much of his or her shit, I should be the one saying that. Does that make me a coward, something of a pacifist? Or maybe I just hate confrontation and understand that everyone has some kind of stress going on in their lives and that people make mistakes. I'm twenty two now. As of a few days ago. I'm down a lot of friends and quite frankly, I think most of them were just dead weight. Why were they there in the first place? What brought us together? Being slutty, alcohol, partying, drugs, attraction? Nothing important, or else I'd care more. I feel so much apathy I can't even apologize to some of the people, willing to forgive, if only I say, "l'm sorry." Well, I'm not sorry. I don't have anything to apologize for. I didn't steal your boyfriend, crash your car, or talk shit behind your back. Maybe our morals are different and we are growing up and apart. But that doesn't give you a right to judge my morality. I think in our twenties, we are breaking away from the morals set not only by society, but by our parents. This is our time to figure out what our morals and values really are. And yes, this may mean that we need to start at the bottom to work our way up. But this doesn't make us bad people. We are simply learning and experimenting and making enough mistakes to allow ourselves to flourish in the future. So, if you don't want to be my friend anymore because we had a drunken fight at a club or I hooked up with some guy you thought is cute, well that's fine. Because it seems recently that drinking and partying isn't as fun as it was when I was sneaking out with a fake ID. It's more drama, less allure, and most of all, I'm more aware and concerned with the consequences of my actions. Maybe this is a wake up call. I'll make new friends, be more selective and attentive when doing so. I'll do things to better myself and my future. And I'll stay far away from toxic people, drowning in life, looking for someone to sink to the bottom with them. Well, it's not me. I'll figure out ways to be more motivated, to find more inspiration, and to educate myself in as many ways as possible. I don't need a little help from a friend to move up in life, I just need me, myself, & I.