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caught-intherye · 8 years ago

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Cost Of Education

Sitting in a room that seems to have 50 times the square footage of my entire house, on the 5th row from the top, I can see everyone below me but the last person I pay any attention to is the professor at the bottom. The girl seven rows before me looks like she woke up before the sun, with blonde streaked beach waves falling from her braid, wrapped around her head like a crown. The irony of the girl to her right who looks like she woke up with ten minutes before this class started, wearing a beanie finding her palm to be a perfectly good pillow in the middle of this lecture about the laws against prostitution. I could never be a prostitute I think too much bang for your buck I chuckle out loud at my joke, if I don’t who will? Now I’m distracted by the scent of bad body odor, for a second I’m self-conscience about my own odor and I can’t remember whether I put on deodorant or not but then I notice a guy beside me opened his gym bag to pull out his phone charger (I judge him ever so slightly for having a Samsung, he’s probably super techy). Almost everyone has their laptop out, none of which are actually taking notes, I can see three people playing box head, five people on tumblr and a whopping 14 people just making those blue squares appear on their desktop page. The only reason my lap top is open, is because I’d rather have my hands resting on a key board than the table in front of me. My attention falls back on my professor as he’s pacing back and forth without talking, did he notice no one was listening? Did he ever really think we were listening? Then the short round man pushes up his glasses with a huff and looks at the ground shaking his head as if trying to remember something. My laptop makes the noise notifying me that I got an iMessage. It’s my manager from Starbucks, asking if I can come in early this afternoon at three; it’s already two thirty but if I leave now I can make it. I decide this lecture isn’t more important than an extra two hours on the clock so I pack up and leave.

On a bus that smells like sweat and urine, but I’d rather that than the other thing you do in the washroom. Now picking at my nails making a mental note to get them done after work, whenever I get fake nails no one can even tell because I ask for then to be as short as my real nails, I can’t do my everyday duties with unrealistically long nails. I look out the windows and can see the smog blurring out the hills of northern California, maybe the pollution here is getting out of hand. I watch as a girl who looks like she couldn’t have seen more than thirteen summers light a cigarette and hope her mom doesn’t find out. Finally at my stop, I swing my green and brown backpack around and over one shoulder, trapping most of my hair under my strap; I’m used to it. As I’m standing at the back doors of the bus before they open I look down at my converse and realize my shoe lace is untied. Stepping off the bus I bend down to tie my shoe and my blue jean’s button pops open and my belly button feels free for the first time all day. Quickly fixing the wardrobe malfunction I look up and find my co-worker with his face pressed up against the glass window on the door giving me a creepy yet welcoming smiling. I hit him with an equally as creepy double eyebrow wiggle. I love how silly I can act at this job, and no one will think I’m actually silly, they’ll just think I’m cute and corky.

“That’s cute” Jeff says while holding the door open for me to walk through, “I know” I say back without making eye contact. Jeff is a good looking man who always has the right amount of stubble, hair colour that matches the coffee we make, not quite an afro but pretty curly. His eyebrows thick and unkempt above his hazel coloured eyes, his smile is super cute but he’s such a goof ball that I could only think of him as a little brother. I throw my black t-shirt over my tank top and wrap the apron around my waist. Sara is working today, and she always has positive vibes and makes me appreciate life a little more every time I see her. With her blonde hair below her ears, she greets me with a warm smile that causes her blue eyes to squint a little. She has a tattoo of the solar system, with the sun on her left elbow and all the planets placed on rings circling the center. I couldn’t be happier working with these two.

I’m on a break with Sara and we’re sitting on the wooden deck, she’s sipping a green tea with her legs crosses and I’m having a black coffee. We’re sharing a laugh while reminiscing all the times we purposely pronounce people’s name wrong when I get a text from a woman who works at my other job. She says she won’t be able to make her shift tonight and wants me to take it for her, I debate for a couple second but agree that I can never make too much money in one day so I take her up on her offer. I need to be on stage by ten so I need to make sure Jeff can drive me home fast. All my clothes, or lack thereof, is already in a canvas bag because I’m always on call for my night job.

I get home at 9:45, if I take my bike I can make it in time. “Hey Ella, where yea going, sweetie?” my mother asks, “I promised some friends that I would meet up with them for some drinks.” I respond walking right by her in our crowded kitchen. My mom takes a break from washing the dishes in the huge sink as I back track a couple steps to pick up a couple tangerines. “Why are you in such a rush?” inquiring while wiping her hands, “they are already at the bar, mom, I don’t wanna miss anything.” and I close the door behind me as I enter the garage from our kitchen. I take my fixed-gear bike off the metal hooks on the concrete walls, and I’m off at least 55 miles an hour. I like going fast, it’s dangerous but it blurs everything around me out and does the opposite for my mental space, gives me room to think. I’m thinking about how far I’ve come turn left with my mom, she hasn’t given me shit for a while about going out, that’s just the beauty in growing up turn right I guess. Ok I should be thinking about something more productive. So no school tomorrow speed bump perfect time to get my nails done turn left I’ll ask Alex to come with me, she probably needs a manicure as well. Now I’m turning into a laneway where I enter through a backdoor. The same security guard gives me the same cut eye for bringing my bike in but I don’t trust people on this side of the city.

My bike is resting against the wall and now my regular clothes resting at the bottom of this grey locker. I slip on my pink string-like bottoms, this colour looks a lot better on me when I had a tan. I should plan a day to go to the beach soon, maybe with my mom – I feel like I never hang out with her anymore. As I pull my top over my head that cuts off right under my nipple, Amanda walks into the room. She’s one of my favourite girls who work here, today just keeps getting better and better! “Hey girl!” she says with her southern accent. “Hey Mandy, I didn’t know you were working tonight.” She doesn’t like being called Mandy (says it just doesn’t sound right) but I call her that partly to mess with her; mostly because it adds some innocence to what it sounds like we do here. Without acknowledging the nickname she says, “I didn’t know you were either” then she dropped her leather bag with tassels from her broad shoulder, she was the only girl I knew who could pair that bag with a pair of low cut pale pink cowboy boots and a short jean jacket and still look cool and casual. “Yea, I don’t usually work on Tuesdays, I’m covering Amy’s shift. God knows why she couldn’t make it.” Before responding Amanda already had her floral sun dress on its way over her head. “I know why couldn’t make it too.” She replied while bringing one finger up to her nose, closing nostril with it and sniffing the air, I could only laugh in agreement.

NOW PRESENTING …. CANDI DARLING

I strut out onto the stage, using my best bedrooms eyes and scan over every man in the audience until one man stops me dead in my tracks. My round, bald headed, four eyed Professor.

#jesswrites #shortstory #fiction #hehe #ohno

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dear-indies · 2 years ago

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Do you have resources for free editing software that's safe to use/download. I want to make my own graphics and icons but I'm not about to pay for photoshop. Thank you.

Photopea (browser):

lovelctters tutorial

benoitblancs tutorial

lacebird tutorial

jesswrites tutorial

femtaylors tutorial

berrykeoghans tutorial

chaelisaqs tutorial

GIPHY (download) + EZGIF (browser):

olivaraofrphs tutorial

EZGIF (browser):

nicolemaiines tutorial

coldasyous tutorial

ofcamerasflashings tutorial

GIMP (download):

dekaythepunks tutorial - also has a bunch of other GIMP tutorials.

lierdumoas tutorial

Here you go, anon!

#rph #rpc #gif tutorial

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birchwand · 8 years ago

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Anyone Want a Drabble?

Hi there! I know I haven’t posted much personal stuff in a long time, but I had an idea earlier today and I wanted to put it out there. Would anyone like me to write them a drabble? If so, send me some characters and descriptions and a scenario, if you have one and I’ll write you a little something. I’ll be taking messages between today and the end of the month, May 31st, if anyone is interested.

This is just a little experiment I’m conducting mixed with some writing practice.

Below is an example of a little thing I wrote for hotshotgaypilot on a whim the other day.

Leon was bored. He’d been trying to catch up on his reading. He went to his office, settled in his most comfortable chair and cracked open an old favorite, the pages starting to yellow from age. His eyes traced the familiar words fondly at first, but after a few minutes he found himself checking his phone every few minutes, staring blankly at the unchanged screen. No messages. Strange. Normally by now Simon would have sent him dozens of random emoji’s from the other room, just to be a pest. He set his phone aside once more with the smallest of sighs, and picked up his book, eyes narrowed. He was going to read, damn it. After all, Simon was probably busy enjoying his day off.

He looked up at a gentle knock on his door.

“Come in, Luke,” he called, resisting the urge to frown as the latest addition to his security crew walked in. Luke was a tall man, broad, like a wrestler but clean and quiet. He hardly spoke to Leon, except to deliver the latest update.

“I did another sweep,” he said, hands folded behind his back. “Everything’s clear. Looks like a quiet night.”

“Well...good,” Leon replied. “Thank you, Luke.” Luke nodded and turned to go, then paused in the doorway as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, glaring at the bright screen.

“Peltier again,” he muttered. “Is he always this annoying? This must be the thirtieth time he’s checked in in the past hour.”

“He likes to push people’s buttons,” Leon replied, blinking in surprise. He had been texting Luke? “What’s he been saying?”

“Oh, just asking if I’ve checked this or done that. Like I don’t know how to do my job.” Luke shook his head and stuffed his phone back to his pocket. “Excuse me, Mr. Dane. I’m going to give him a call. He’s getting on my last nerve.”

“He’ll do that.” Leon laughed quietly as Luke nodded and left, shutting the door gently behind him. When he was gone, Leon picked up his phone once more, setting his book aside. He tapped out a quick text.

“You really should stop pestering the poor man.” He hit send and laid back, a small smile on his face as he waited for Simon to reply.

#drabbles #jesswrites

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jexika-mendez · 8 years ago

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Time is Time

Ugh time is of the essence so they say,, but ugh this time is not working for me any more. Normally i like to look up the word that is on my brain and bring it to light with what im feeling, going through or so forth to get it out my head and vent..

So.. google states.. Time is the indefinite continued progress of existence and events that occur in apparently irreversible succesion from the past through the present to the future. So I wonder, how does it relate the aspect of growing out and growing into a new existence and event of the progress, so is growth an indefinite continium of the progress of time. Can it be, growth is determined by our experiences and the decision to grow is held in control by the individual passing through the experiences.

Well, to bring this topic up, for me,time never seems to be on my side when I search for the, "right time." I have touched on the subject before on a previous blog about when is the right, "time to shine." Where I can see now, looking back and recalling the experience, that I decided to growout of the negative aspects of the experience I was going through. Where it gets me to start thinking about how time relates to growth,experiences and an individual. I can say that the existance can be of that of a person or an individual, that growth is the progress and the events are experiences. So the growth is the progress of individuals experiences that go through time, right?!?! I can get very technical and break it down in scientific aspects but i rather keep it at this level, this level that Im at right now.

I have always asked when is the right time to go through experiences in my life and i have looked for right experiences to go through in time, not really paying any attention to when the experience and when the time is in progress. Only, to then, start to look at my past and learn by what i have written in the form of music, notes, post,blogs, or journal entries to find it as answers, of when I went through it. Having the dreadful proof that I have been growing into experiences of what my situation is at this moment, sitting down and trying to figuer out why "the time" is never right for me. Which brings me to this moment that has been filled with growth experiences that i have recently gone through. Of having to ackowledge that I have been searching for the right time for almost everything that I hope to achieve in life and that I have let my experiences determine the events in my life that placed my thoughts of growing into a set time and continued to repeat it selft in my past, my present and my future, well that is until now.Coming to the realization that all this time, literately, the main focus has been "the time" during my experiences and the decision of the direction of my growth but time has never been thought of as simple part of every experience my thoughts go through and determine the progress of indifinite growth of my experiences in time. So could it be that the thought of time should not be what determines, if ,it is the right time to experience growth that the thought of the right growth should be what determines the right experience at that time, which by definition eventfully therefore it becomes the past, the present and the furture.

Kinda funny now to place time in a different aspect which to make my point i would like to realate to that saying everyone always says, "time is money," well then money is of value, there it is understood that time is a value given by money.Since it has been stated that time is value and based on the google definite of time I can say that the value set on experiences, on growth, and on thoughts, right. I dont think it really was to be considered that money is time and time is money. No one can ever say that money is an event they go through or money is the progress of an experience nor that time wasted is lost or that the time not earned meant time had no value or has decreased in value. Furthermore that money lost the experiences and that time earned minutes. So, no.. "time is not money" well at least, not in this matter. heheheh :)

So, with that said, I finalize my time dilemma, I would like to leave on a final note and say that time is of value. Though I would like to think it is of value to the experiences and to the growth that it should be an abundant aspect to provide a growing progress to the events that sets our existance, expereinced by our thoughts passing through time that has set our past, continue to set our present and will indifinately set our future.

Oh... so, now i can see, "time is time."

Love Jexika

#jexika #jesswrite #thoughtsofjexika #jesswritepublishing #icobm

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onefootbehindtheother · 5 years ago

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i don’t love the color of your hair

the look of your face

the skin that you wear

time disappears

my fingers grow colder

will your personality ever become

…bolder?

hole burnt in my wrist

i can’t start to care

when all i can think about

is your pink hair

vomit on the pavement

shades of red

cut my own hair

begin again

#jesswrites

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glitterinchaos · 6 years ago

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What really happened after S14.E15...

It’s after Jack kills Michael and gets his powers back. It’s after the hunters that were killed in the bunker get their proper hunter’s funerals. It’s after Sam and Dean have had the time to bury their own emotions like they always do. It’s after Cas works tirelessly to do all he can to keep their family together and functioning.

After all of this, they finally feel ready for a new hunt - an easy milk run - something to get them back in the swing of things and get their lives back on track. Other than watching out for Jack, there is no major threat to worry about and they can get back to the regular, run of the mill monsters and ghosts. So Sam finds something local, a possible haunted hotel only about thirty minutes away from the bunker, and they all agree to go check it out. There’s really no need for all four of them to go, but it feels like it’s something they should do all together anyway.

The hunt turns out to be straightforward and easy as far as hunts go. They identified the ghost, salt and burned the bones, and saved a young boy who was targeted to be the ghost’s next victim. Sam is thrilled and already eager to find another hunt. Jack can’t stop grinning, finally feeling useful again and, like always, Dean soaks in the excitement coming from them and smiles all throughout their celebratory meal at a local diner. The smile, however, is only on the surface. He doesn’t feel the same joy from the hunt as Sam and Jack do, and he’s not entirely sure why. No one seems to notice anything is amiss, but Dean needs to sort things out in his own head. He needs space.

When they are finished with their meal and ready to head back to the bunker, Dean makes up an excuse to stay behind, something about running errands and needing to pick up a few things. He had taken Jack out fishing again before the hunt, so Sam and Cas had met them at the hotel, leaving them with two vehicles. After assuring everyone that he’s fine, the others climb into Cas’s beat up truck while Dean heads over to the Impala. Just as he’s about to climb in, there’s a hand on his shoulder. It’s a tentative touch, but also firm and familiar. Dean turns around to come face to face with a very worried looking Cas. Just over Cas’s shoulder, Dean can see the truck already pulling away with Sam and Jack inside.

Cas recognizes Dean’s confusion and speaks first; “I’ll go with you… to run your errands.” Dean’s attempts at arguing against him are weak and lacking conviction. Without much of a fight, Cas ends up in the passenger seat as Dean drives. They drive a long stretch of highway in a comfortable silence and it’s nearly an hour before either of them speak.

“I take it you don’t really have any errands to run, do you?” Cas is careful in his approach and makes sure his words are gentle and without accusation. He can sense that there is more going on here and he really doesn’t mind aimlessly driving with Dean anyway. He never has.

“No, Cas. No errands. I just… I just wanted to drive.” The reply comes with a labored exhale and Cas notices that he sounds anxious. It also doesn’t escape his notice that Dean’s knuckles are white as they grip the steering wheel - a stark contrast to his usual relaxed demeanor when he’s driving the open road in his Baby. Dean’s jaw is set and he doesn’t even bother glancing over at Cas.

“Okay, Dean.” They keep driving.

Another hour passes and dark, threatening storm clouds have rolled in. Dean seems no more relaxed than he was when they started out and Cas thinks it’s about time he say something.

“Dean, I think we should st--”

“I can’t do this anymore.” Dean cuts him off mid sentence and Cas allows him. He thinks Dean has been working up the courage to say something for the past fifteen minutes, so he remains silent and let’s Dean speak again when he’s ready. Several moments pass before he does. “I… I don’t know how to keep going, Cas. I’m just so tired and it’s taking everything I’ve got to put one foot in front of the other right now.” Dean’s fists are now opening and closing around the steering wheel and he’s trying to hold onto to something, anything, that might ground him and keep him in the moment.

Dean’s breathing speeds up as he tells Cas what’s going on in his head. Cas mostly just listens, but will speak up with a question or comment when he feels like it’s needed. As Dean goes on, it becomes more and more difficult for him to inhale and raindrops begin to pelt the windshield. Cas is getting worried and moves to lay a hand on Dean’s forearm. When he does, Dean suddenly veers the car off to the right. It’s an unmarked dirt road and Cas wonders how Dean noticed it, or even if he really saw it at all. The Impala picks up speed and bumps along the dirt and gravel. Cas’s hand is still holding onto Dean’s forearm when they reach a small outcropping of trees and he comes to a jerked stop.

Dean gets out of the car, slamming the door shut with a force that makes Cas wince, and starts pacing. Cas gets out as well and watches him, helpless, as Dean continues to let it all spill over. His every fear and every worry… it all comes tumbling out in a panicked rush. Cas leans against the hood of the car while Dean goes on. His presence being the only thing he has to offer. Dean doesn’t know where it all comes from, but he can’t stop. He tells Cas things that he’s never even spoken aloud before - things he would never dream of telling Sam - and Cas just listens. He always been so good at that. Even when Dean has nothing important to say, he listens.

The rain is coming down harder now. Cas’s grace keeps him dry, but Dean doesn’t even notice his own clothes getting soaked through and Cas doesn’t dare interrupt. It’s an extremely rare occasion for Dean to freely let out his emotions in such an expressive manner, and Cas will be be there for him as his sounding board. He’ll gladly be whatever it is that Dean needs in this moment and right now, he just needs to be heard and to unload.

The agrier the incoming storm gets, the angier Dean himself becomes - his words get louder, his pacing gets faster, and his desperation grows deeper. It’s an ominous parallel and one that Cas doesn’t miss. At the first crack of thunder, Dean doesn’t even flinch. He’s still going, but he’s repeating himself now. He’s worked up, a dam about to break. Then Cas sees them… there are tears in Dean’s eyes. Anyone else might not be able to notice since Dean’s face is streaked with rain, but Cas knows. He also knows it’s time to step in because Dean can’t keep going on like this.

Cas steps forward and into Dean’s path. Dean startles to a halt as he’s grabbed by the shoulders and firmly held in place. He looks up, finally making eye contact, and his look of surprise suggests that he had forgotten Cas was even there. His eyes are red now and his breathing is labored. Cas expects a fight, to be pushed away. Shouting maybe, or some kind of struggle at least. What he doesn’t expect is for Dean to collapse to his knees, soaking his jeans in mud and water.

Cas easily accepts Dean’s weight and collapses down with him. Dean immediately falls forward, his face burying into the crook of Cas’s shoulder and his fists grabbing at the lapels of the trenchcoat.

The trenchcoat. The stupid, old, tax accountant looking trenchcoat. The coat that somehow, a long time ago (and without Dean’s conscious permission) became a symbol of familiarity to him. Dean has lost count of the times he’s held onto that coat for the simple yet profound comfort it provides.

Sobs wrack Dean’s body and despair consumes him. As his chest heaves and the tears fall freely, Cas’s strong, steady hands hold him close; one at the back of his head and the other between his shoulder blades. Neither of them say a word.

It takes a few minutes, but Dean finally begins to calm down. He slowly lifts his head and forces himself to look at Cas. He’s embarrassed and is afraid to see a face full of pity or annoyance or maybe even disgust looking back at him, but he sees none of those things. Cas is looking at him with concern and something that might even be considered admiration. Cas’s hands move to cup Dean’s face, but still he says nothing. They hold each other’s gaze for a few moments, having an entire conversation without any words at all. In the silence, Dean can hear Cas tell him that everything will be ok. What’s more surprising is that Dean begins to believe it.

Dean fights back another wave of tears as he wonders how long they’ve been this way with each other. How long has Cas been able to settle him with just a look or a gesture? How long has he trusted Cas enough to lay all his fucked up emotions out in the open? How long has he, without even realizing it, needed Cas’s comfort in times of distress? He’s not sure he can remember. Somehow, Cas wiggled into his life and made a place for himself so solid and permanent and important that his absence would leave a gaping, irreplaceable hole. He learned as much two years ago when he thought he had lost him to the Empty forever.

Cas still has his face in his hands and Dean just breathes, a calm washing over him amidst the rain still coming down. A bolt of lightning flashes behind Cas’s head, illuminating his silhouette. For just a moment, the light looks like a halo and Dean thinks that maybe… just maybe… he can see a faint outline of his wings, but the light disappears as fast as it came and he can’t see them anymore. He lets Cas cradle his head and the rain wash away the tears.

Slowly and with a gentleness that Dean has rarely ever experienced, Cas helps him to his feet. He gestures for Dean to stay there while he gets the keys from the front seat of the Impala and opens the trunk. Finding what he needs in Dean’s duffel, he gently guides Dean to the back door of the driver’s side. Cas opens the door and lays a towel on the seat, nudging Dean to sit. When he does, Cas hands over a change of clothes for him to hold while he bends down and begins taking off Dean’s shoes and socks - Dean lets him without protest. Then, Cas takes off his trenchcoat and holds it above the door so Dean can change into dry clothes without worrying about the rain. He keeps his head above the roof of the car to give him his privacy. When Dean is finished changing, the wet clothes are put back in the trunk and then Dean slides across the backseat, making room for Cas to slide in next to him.

Once they are both dry and seated in the car, they lock eyes again. They haven’t spoken a single word between them since Dean collapsed into the mud. He wants to say something but doesn’t know what or how. He wants to say all the built up “thank you’s” and “I’m sorry’s”, but he can’t make the words come out. Instead, his words culminate in a fresh set of tears and he can’t even be bothered to feel ashamed of them anymore.

“It’s okay, Dean. We don’t have to go anywhere else until you’re ready.”

Cas understands. He always does.

Just as Cas begins to move to the front seat to give Dean his space, he finally manages to get out one word. One word that he hopes says everything he’s ever wanted to say to Cas. One word that is a question, a suggestion, a request, a plea, and an “I need you” all rolled into one. Just one word.

“Stay.”

The response is immediate and unsurprising, but altogether an indescribable relief . “Of course.”

Cas takes off his coat, still dry by the power of his grace, and wraps it around Dean’s shoulders to help warm him up. Without any thought at all, Dean leans in and rests his head on him. They shuffle around to get comfortable and Dean ends up mostly laying on his left side with his back against the seat. His head is nestled on Cas’s shoulder and his right arm draped over Cas’s stomach. It’s a position that looks an awful lot like cuddling.

Once settled, Dean allows himself to relax against Cas. He feels warm and calm and… safe. Once again, he wonders when this all happened and how they ever reached this point. He stops just short of thinking too hard about how lying next to Cas like this is strange only because it doesn’t actually feel strange at all. It feels natural, like this is something they’ve always been meant to do and to be together. Cas doesn’t flinch or hesitate or question any of it. He’s just there, like he always is. Like he knows exactly when and how Dean needs him.

Dean falls asleep in Cas’s arms and with Cas’s hand stroking his hair. For the first time in longer than he can remember, he sleeps a deep and dreamless sleep. He finds a peace that he’s been searching for for so long and now understands that he’s actually had it for awhile. He has Cas and Cas is his peace. Cas makes him feel safe amidst a world that so often feels like it’s crashing in around him. Cas makes him feel like he’s found home. Cas is home. And that’s enough to quiet the storm that rages on both outside the Impala and inside his own mind. It’s after all this that Dean can finally breathe again.

#14.15 #Supernatural #SPNfam #Destiel #DeanCas #Castiel #Dean #I made myself cry #first post #cry with me #drabble #Destiel feels #Jesswrites #what should have happened #what probably did happen

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feladesma · 6 years ago

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"If you want the crowd to listen, don't speak with your mouth, speak with your heart"

-jesswrite 2019

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caught-intherye · 8 years ago

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Bottle Service

I'm sure you heard the phrase bottling up your emotions,

it seems like a pretty easy concept to understand. Have you ever thought into it a little deeper into the subject though?

Of bottles I mean.

Something else you keep bottled is wine and that gets better with age, you keep that sealed for decades and the longer you have it in storage, the better it gets. The way your understanding of the world gets better with age. You should defiantly keep that type of stuff stored in a safe place, but pour your friends a glass everyone once in a while, and enjoy their favourites too.

Other things aren't so good bottled up. Beer gets stale and becomes hard to want to drink. The bottle will stay in your fridge getting colder and colder until you come to the conclusion, you aren't going to crack one open anytime soon – then they become a nuisance. You have make the decision whether to say fuck it I'm drinking it all tonight or put them in a box in the garage until you’re ready to drink it. But before you know it, parties have passed and your opportunities are endless but you still don't open 'em up because they aren't cold anymore, at least never when you need then. After sitting in the garage for a while they become stale and unwanted, a reminder every time you leave your house of what you had. But every party that comes around you buy a new case because they are cool and fresh and go down smooth and tasteful. Once you have ran out of money, the parties don't stop. The only beer you have is the warm, stale, unwanted case in your garage. You drink them slow, as the brew falls down your throat you hate the way it tastes and you think to yourself who cares about wasted beer, I should have just split then down the sink. But you can't let yourself waste perfectly good beer, after all, they were cold at one point. And you felt what was bottled up for so long that your emotions began to become less important/relevant but you need to let them out into the world, no matter how stale they get.

Liquor also comes in bottles. That's the stuff you buy last minute, completely by impulse. Opening the cap almost as soon as the party doors open. You didn't buy it for taste and you know the after math could be horrible. One shot leads to another and before you know it, your half way through the bottle and there's no point in stopping now. Putting the bottle to your lips, taking the last shot, the rest is up to the people you choose to share to bottle with. If with the right people, you will wake up the next morning intact. But the wrong people will leave you after drinking your bottle for someone else's bottle, whose tastes better. Like when you shared what you felt in the moment, but chose the wrong people to share those thoughts with.

Alcohol comes in different bottles though, and sometimes you have to open it up and take a sip.

If it is wine, close it back up and put it in storage – you’ll need that for another day.

If it's beer, you better drink it while it's cold.

And if it's liquor ... Good luck.

#jesswrites #bottleservice #wine #beer #liquor #poemish

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