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Wish You Were…scribd version

Wish You Were…scribd version

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Published by Megan
This is just something I have been working on the get the creative juices flowing, I started in January and haven't written in a while bet eh.. its quite long so knock yourself out :D. I will probably begin writing again and post more, not frequently though sorry, those GCSE's are coming closer :S eeeek lol Oh and again written very early in the mornings when sleep just wasn't co-operating with me so expect grammar and spelling errors :D xxxx
This is just something I have been working on the get the creative juices flowing, I started in January and haven't written in a while bet eh.. its quite long so knock yourself out :D. I will probably begin writing again and post more, not frequently though sorry, those GCSE's are coming closer :S eeeek lol Oh and again written very early in the mornings when sleep just wasn't co-operating with me so expect grammar and spelling errors :D xxxx

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Published by: Megan on Apr 19, 2009
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05/11/2014

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Wish YouWere…
Meghan RakelPeterson
A/N: Okay I have been writing this since Januaryand it was pretty much a venting mechanism.The first chapter is the worst but I think itsstarts to get better, I dunno its pretty long sofeel free to ignore it and wait for my otherupdates :o) Oh an about the names, I’m notactually copying twilight, one of my best friends
 
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is called Alice and I have a friend called Breannewho I call Bea.
Chapter One.
Pants, Bras And Other Things Men Know Little About.
Its funny how one note can change every drafted perspective I haveever assumed of life. A note in theroy seems so much more personalthan an email or text. A note shows time and care. Everythingdisplayed on that one note is revealing. You can analyze every part of the untidy scrawl or something trivial like how many kisses have beenleft. Notes always reveal something, usually how much the otherperson cares about you. The note that was lying in my hands howeverrevealed nothing. The words blaring up from within the page, weremocking me. It was slightly off putting that I failed to decipher anymeaning that was held in those 5 words. I wanted to scrunch it upand just throw it away in a nonchalant manner. However my stupidsentimental side always won. It didn’t matter how many men I hadassociated myself with I always felt some kind of stupid unexplainableemotional connection to them. The deal we shared was always ‘nostrings attached’ but I could never agree to that. I am, despite whatmen might think about my emotional status, a woman. The egotistical jerks I tended to associate myself were to say the least a waste of myaffections. However I could never bring myself to man-up and just findsomeone who I could actually love without being scared shitless by it.So as a result I ended up like this. Slightly bitter, extremely sarcasticand too witty and sharp for my own good. There was a time when I was naïve- truly so. So much so, that I wanted to believe the best inpeople. I actually defended those who deserved nothing, least of all mydefence. I was painfully stupid to actually think that the bitches I hadmet in high school deserved a sliver of the kindness I had gratifiedand awarded them with. It hadn’t helped them and all it presented me with was a reputation for being a little too nice. Translation? For lackof a better phrase- a measly push over. Nothing about me screamedintimidating, I could be if I wanted to, but heck I promised myself thatI would be kinder to people. I had been in shouting matches andstupidly made remarks that were a little too sarcastic to be
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overlooked. Hell before I turned fifteen and changed my ways I waspretty badass. I was very geeky and strongly affirmed to my studiesbut I had a big mouth and wasn’t afraid to use it. But that’s all it was.All talk no action. Don’t ask me why fifteen had been such an amazingturning point for me because heck I don’t know why, it just was. That year I promised to be kinder, really give people a chance and just giveothers a chance and not pre-judge. I was stupid. People simply don’tdeserve unspoken kindness. They don’t surprise you; they justreaffirm what you already know. By taking advantage of those quieterand more reserved, we live in a cruel world. I glanced back downtoward the note that was smoothed in my hands. I laughed bitterly atthe five words.
Didn’t work out, sorry.Iain 
 That fact that he felt like he needed to explain himself was enough totell me that he knew. Dammit, he knew that I am too fucking ‘woman’ for this lifestyle. Something needs to change. I may only be twenty,but soon I will be thirty and then forty and then damn, I will befucking old. As much as I have convinced myself that I don’t need aman, or need a husband, or need a child, or need any of that shit. Istill want it as much as anyone else. It’s my stupid pride that gets inthe way as usual. I am twenty and have had one boyfriend. That poorexcuse for a relationship barely even counts, unless like Ali youconsider three and a half weeks to be substantial. I am by no stretchof the imagination innocent but my best friend Ali takes pride in thefact that at first glance you would never suspect anything less thantotal innocence. In reality I am still that girl who wants to defend thepeople around her and try to get people to understand that sometimespeople do deserve a third, fourth or even fifth chance at makingsomething right. After five years I am still the same stupid naïve girl Ialways was. Ali was right, always has been. She knows how fucked upI am. She knows how much I wish I could lead the life that she doesbut instead of having her long term boyfriend and self-sufficient job Iam a bustling career women. My job reflects who I am. At twenty I amthe youngest newspaper editor in New York. Before I began co-editedthe paper I wrote the column, “Pants Bras and other things Men knowlittle about.” Basically six hundred words regarding my endlessmoaning about things women desperately love to read about. I still write the column amongst my other responsibilities. Whereas before it was for fun it eventually evolved into my escape mechanism. I writeabout the jerks that I have affiliations with. The idiots who try to flirt with me, and the egotistical fools who dribble over their own words when they realize I know every trick in their very badly written man‘handbook’. I swear I have heard so many pick-up lines that they havebecome painful to listen to. I think the worst I have been exposed tois, “You remind me so much of Pokémon that I just want to pick-at-choo.” I was at a geek convention for my column and was the only girlin the place who resembled what a woman should look like. In realitythat meant that I didn’t have a uni-brow and weighed less than 200
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