The journaling continues in
ROSIE'S LAST DIARY
July 4, 2007 – 11:11 pm
I just wanted a picturesque 4th of July on a rooftop in Brooklyn with a nice breeze, a glass of white sangria and some fucking Rhianna playing on the iPod.
I brought not one, but two crispy loaves of French bread to be eaten with an array of stinky cheeses I'd selected the day before and taken out of the fridge 5 hours before I left home so they'd be the perfect serving temperature.
I arrived to the party exactly 1 hour after it began. I made myself useful in the kitchen making drinks, and I even ran out and grabbed a couple bags of ice when it was clear there wouldn't be enough for the first wave of guests.
Then I sat on the roof in a comfortable chair and relaxed, enjoying my sangria and the chatter about how we all pre-ordered Deathly Hallows on Amazon.
And for 45 whole minutes I was in heaven.
Then I heard a voice behind me. I sat up straight, but didn't turn around. The voice got closer and louder. All of a sudden I wanted out of the white jeans I was wearing. They were wrong, it was all wrong! I put my drink down and pulled my locs back into a ponytail. The sun was very low in the sky so my shades were absolutely unnecessary, but I put them on. Then I downed my drink and hijacked the conversation closest to me, doing everything I could to be cool, like a lunatic, like a child, like only I can do. And why? Because that voice behind me.
It was Boss.
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THANKS FOR READING!
(♥_♥)
To all my fellow lezzies, gays, queers, pans, aces, transqueens, kings & everyone in between. I see you. <3
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Rosie's Diary
Ficção Geral19-year-old Rosie drinks, swears, cries, studies, rehearses, lies, confesses, smokes weed and rants all over New York City. But all she really wants to do is love June.
