Georgia Peach

Sotd: Filter - Trip Like I Do
Qotd: "Anything that feels that good couldn't possibly be bad. There's something about death that is comforting, the thought that you could die tomorrow frees you to appreciate your life now"- Angelina Jolie

Ok so here is the latest story I scribbled out over my lunch break on napkins and business cards ::

"

Common accident they say. Road debris is everywhere. Somehow as commuters we accept that. Cal-trans does what they can to keep freeways free of anything that could be turned into a projectile when a big rig going 85’s tires grip and release at monumental speed. That plus my newfound penchant for speeding on the new BMW bike, someone was stupid enough to buy for me, equals the current state of my face.

I worked the bandage off slowly feeling the glue stick to my skin, at times pulling my skin away with it. I looked down at the pristine white gauze peeling away layer upon layer of the square bandage to reveal the rust colored spots of blood that clung to the soft cotton fibers, I turned and looked in the mirror and saw it; the skin a mannequin shade of pink; the stitches looked like fine dark hairs caught in candle wax. I ran my finger over it. Feeling the bumps of each stitch sent chills up my forearms and down my spine.

The cut, that graced my once perfect face, in all its glory, was a full four and a half inches across. Starting just above my, well what used to be my expensively manicured eye brows, now half shaved after the surgery leaving me resembling a caricature of myself, trailing across diagonally, pausing for a moment at the top of my left eye starting again at the corner of my eye where once my eyelashes would flip naturally formerly gave shame to the doctored Chanel mascara adds, now snipped and clipped to allow my surgeon to reattach muscles a, b, and c that allow me to blink. With the swelling down as much as it would be before the stitches come out I had to realign my perceptions on life.

No one ever expects a Georgia licence plate to change their life.

The Fifteen freeway is monumental to begin with; littered with the tears of those who Las Vegas had their way with and the laughs of those who had their way with Las Vegas. I was headed home. The stink of Las Vegas and other things still lingered on my skin. My visit to Sin City consisted of talking my ex boyfriend out of marrying sweet Becca Jane, among other things but Ill get to that later. Her name was Rebecca Foster, a sweet girl, one of the few nice girls left in Southern California. Well, was a nice girl from So Cal, but after catching me fuck her fiancé on the hood of her princess white Mercedes wedding limousine I'm sure she’s not as nice anymore. I never did care for girls from the Valley."