This morning I woke up puffy tongued and swollen with a sore throat that is perpetually thirsty. The party last night was called; The LAST Hurrah. Everyone is going away to school soon.
My best friend was still asleep so I decided to go get a book from my room to read. I couldn't get my regular fix of Twilight this morning because I still have to buy the third so i decided upon Echo.
I haven't read the book since I was in about 8th grade where all I did was fantasize about living in the worlds of FLB.
I suppose I had forgotten what it was like. I don't think I understood the book then. Now I am 18 and feel more like Echo than anyone should. I began my rant for your novels at age 12 when I entered the 6th grade.
"I was a teenage fairy" tore me away from my lanky awkwardness shrouded in curls that was my body and flesh. It was a year after I had stopped eating...to become a ballerina and be more like my mother.
Dangerous Angels was next. I was a vintage princess playing dress up as a 7th grader steeling vodka from my parents and running rampid down the streets of Los Angeles. I had never been kissed. My dresses were short and inviting, my eyes covered in glitter and sequins, I made the dresses my self out of old table clothes or discarded fabrics, but no one came.
So I too prayed for my secretagentloverman. He came the next year, I was reading Nymph and had just finished Girl Goddess #9. I told my mother he was gay and she believed me, he wore tight black jeans with doc martins. Sometimes he wore eyeliner too. We would sleep over at his house as friends for months upon months never kissing just talking. Writing poetry while we blew pot smoke out his window. His mother was blind..I think..I never saw her.
Finally one night as I snuck over to his house he told me he was a Vampire boy, but that he loved me anyways. We kissed and touched until 6 in the morning when the sun came out and I realized my mother would be worried. I would come back every night drinking whisky from a flask, skipping school and cutting the tips of my fingers so that he could lick the blood off. He kissed my tears when I cried and held my hair back when I puked my guts out. Summer came and he told me he had to leave--military school.
I dyed my hair black hoping he would fall in love with me all over again but the kisses stopped and I cried and cried, cutting my wrists ever so slightly, not wanting to die but hoping he would maybe smell my blood and come home. I haven't seen him since.
I stopped reading for most of high school, too much coke...too many parties too many dresses to make out of old tees, too many boys.
Now I am re-reading Echo. I buy clothing from stores, get my nails done carry a blackberry and am starting college on a full scholarship as a philosophy major.
My mother is beautiful and perfect, about your age with out a single line on her face. She wears her hair in a blonde bob that lets her baby blue eyes sparkle. When boys come over I feel like someone through a dark blanket over an already dying light. She is a successful comedian and film producer. I am struggling to spell.
My father is recently sober but stopped making money because he was sick of "the man". Now he strums his old guitar and has fallen in love with a red headed women who once smoked crack in the vacant buildings of Echo Park.
I am in love with a skinny boy named Logan, we lounge all day in his mansion in Los Feliz where his mother cooks us big meals and there is always white wine for breakfast. His smokes his cigarettes while I read all day. In his bed.
The last skinny boy I loved just died recently, I think thats why I am gaining so much weight.
Your books allow my life to be a fairy-tale. I am in love with your words. I hope you see how they have shaped my world.
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