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When I die- bury me with all my ice on, bury me without the lights on..." 💔💀🌹
✨
Looking at the screen, I absorb the paragraph.
Ms. Rose,
I've been waiting for this email— since forever.
You have been confirmed an interview on March 1st 2017 at 12:00 PM at Cesar's Arrangements for Lil Peep's Upcoming tour: The Peep Show, for the position:
-Tour Photographer
I'm an artist,
You have been one of the selected few to be interviewed by the Management staff of Lil Peep, please bring your portfolio and passion for photography with you.
—who will fall in love with another artist.
Once interviewed, a call will be given directly to you on the same day if you have been selected. Much luck and wishes for this upcoming opportunity.
Thank you for your time,
-Team Management
I'm excited, nervous and tired.
It's 4 am, and my eyes are blood red from all the waiting. Closing the laptop, the twinkling blue lights at the corners of my room are so pretty.
--
The next morning I shower. The steam is enough for me to breathe heavily. Even more so when I turn off the water and step out.
My baggy eyes and dried lips are minor flaws yet I cannot stop the voice in my head. She says I'm unappealing.
"Olivia!"
That's my best friend Jessica. She a pretty blonde— the kind you meet at high school party. She didn't have to take you in but she does and you've been friend ever since. "I'm leaving!"
"Okay!" I yell— swiping the mirror to see my reflection, "I love you."
I wait for her response and feel better when she reflects my notion, "Love you too!"
In the hours that followed, I toggle with immense frustration, overthinking and contemplating. To the kitchen and into the fridge, I set up a bowl of strawberries.
My eyes are attached to an episode. It's interesting, the girl is named Seven and she an occasional nose bleed.
The faucet leaks and the smell of weed from neighbors runs through the vents. The living space is a reasonable— especially for a place like Los Angeles.
We ought to be a lucky pair of girls.
Time spleens and Jess storms in, laying her body across my lap. It's evening and I'm her valley after a long day— we route in this manner for nearly two years.
"What's wrong?" I try not laugh, knowing what comes next.
"I hate our job, I wish you were there."
Why work at a place that degrades women? I cannot answer that— bartending makes the bills.
"Its only temporary— it's not will be there til' we're 80."
"Imagine, our boobs swinging" Jessica jokes.
I've been meaning to tell her— and now was the time. "By the way—
As those words left my lips, Jess looks up, allowing me to continue," I have an interview— if I get it— I'll be leaving in April."
I'm set on being an artist.
🐥
Olivia: @nirvanna
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Jessica:@alissaviolet
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💔🌹✨AN: . . . . Bout to write for the pain that I have...💔🌹🌹✨
