"So then, I told my mom that I'm not going to stay in Bath for my whole life," Julia droned on as we found our seats in the dining hall, "I was afraid that if I didn't tell her that, I would be stuck there."
In a span of two hours, I've found out that my roommate was from Bath, she had about five siblings and she was the youngest, making her the hardest for her parents to send off. She has this dachshund whom she got as a birthday present from her older sister, the hyper dog almost did his dump on all of her class notes and she had about nine goldfishes in her whole life.
Too much information? Tell that to her, not me.
"How about you?" she questioned, showing pure curiosity, "Where do you live? Have any pets? Siblings?"
And the spotlight was suddenly on me. I nervously tucked in a stray piece of hair and attempted to tackle her multiple questions, "Well, I live in New York..."
"New York?!" she suddenly squealed, catching the attention of the girls sitting near us, "You live in the big apple?"
To be honest, I have never understood the huge hype with NYC. Sure, it was the land of so many opportunities, but after being there since birth, I was honestly used to the long traffics, rowdy noise during one in the morning, the daily rush through the subway, and just the overall rough atmosphere.
Compared to that, this place was like a paradise of peace. Living in an apartment complex at the heart of the city contributed so much to my restlessness. It was the city that never sleeps, and my neighbors took that title to heart.
Our building didn't have a no-party rule, so almost every night, someone either above, below, or anyone on my floor was throwing one.
Everything moves fast to the point that someone behind you on the sidewalk will give you an annoyed huff if you were too slow on walking for him.
"You live in New York?" a girl suddenly questioned. She must have been alerted by Julia's sudden outburst. She gave a polite smile and sat down on one of the unoccupied chairs, "I've always wanted to stay there. I mean, there's the opportunities in London, but I have always wanted to branch out my writing when I get older."
"Sienna's a published author," Julia said with pride, before I could even tell her not to say a word about it.
Now this was the point when I wanted to slap my hand on her mouth. I've had this mantra that the last piece of information I would give to an acquaintance was my job. I don't want people to befriend me just because I managed to print something to the world.
I've managed to shed down my friends list because it took some time to learn who was really there because they liked Sienna as a person and not that they wanted to be with Sienna Clark, the author.
The girl's eyes widened, "Really? What's the name of the book?"
I have always hesitated to say the title of my book. It was a bit corny and cliché, something the fifteen year old me thought of, but before I had time to take it back due to pure embarrassment, it was too late. Well if we were being real here, majority of the authors out there are somewhat bashful when it comes to the titles of their works.
It was really something else when you say it out loud. When we write it, it sounds so perfect but the moment it's actually vocalized then I would want nothing but for the ground to swallow me whole.
But I was being stared at like I was in a police interrogation. So I said the title and when I did, her eyes widened in excitement.
"Wait, every single girl in school read that," she gaped, "That was one of my favorite books, I can't believe that you wrote that."
YOU ARE READING
Writing's Second Taste
Teen Fiction"We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect." -Anaïs Nin You know that feeling when you open a book and you read the story written in it? It feels like you've been transported to another world, a place so wonderful and liberating...
