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 clayton, emmalyn

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ObjavljaNaslov sporočila: clayton, emmalyn   Pet Jan 10, 2014 10:58 pm


emmalyn clayton, hetero, silverstream, 28, CEO, fragile bones, january jones
I'm the kind to sit up in her room,
heart sick an' eyes filled up with blue
.
sit up straight. cross your legs like a lady that you are. stop biting your nails, for god’s sake! you can’t wear sweats and yoga pants outside of the house. is your homework finished? you should call daisy lemon, be friends with her. acquaint yourself with that boy, emmalyn, his father is an important men. you can’t spend time with whoever you want! your hair looks better if you braid it. where did you buy this dress, it’s appalling!  watch your manners, young lady.

if someone hails you with advice, critique and constant comments about your appearance, then you eventually get used to it. you have two options. either you listen to them and let them dictate your life or you surround yourself with a shield and try to survive the best way you can. of course, if you’d be brave enough, then maybe rebellion could be an option too. but you are not. because you are your parents daughter and you are the oldest one. your father perhaps wished you had been a son, but when push came to shove, he had to accept you. that is why he has built you into a good obedient soldier. someone who does what they tell him to do, someone who presents their family in public with dignity. he has forgiven every little slip you made during childhood – all those torn dresses, every mistake you made through high school – all those late nights. you were raised by a galore of nannies. one after another. and when you were old enough you helped those nannies when they raised your siblings. you are a good soldier. you’re empty and shallow. you have no personality, no life, no reason for a smile. but you are a good soldier.

when you came in the air went out,
and every shadow filled up with doubt.
there was a certain point in your life, at age nineteen to be exact, when you believed that just maybe you could have it all. you could afford to sail away from your path and have an adventure or two. you went away for college. to study business management and economics, because your father was preparing you to take over the family’s company. it wasn’t what you wanted to do. you wanted to go to a pastry school. something you never told anyone about. you liked the smell of cinnamon and the feel of dough on your fingers. ever since you were little you helped the kitchen staff when preparing deserts. but you had to follow their dreams and you did it. so you went to new york and you had three years of university. three years of life all for yourself. you were so sure you can break free for just a little while. you shot for the moon and it backfired.

during your sophomore year you met a man. until now every single one of your boyfriends had to be approved by your parents, because family’s good name was far more important than your personal happiness. one look at him and you knew they wouldn’t approve. therefore you knew you should stay away from him, even though his eyes were always undressing you. always placing unease inside your belly that could be described as butterflies. he melted your entire guard down. you were used to giving people the image they expected to see – a high society rich girl, a trust fund baby, a pretty face, someone without emotions, a robot. you were a barbie doll in an ice cube.  he melted it all down and it was the first and the last time you felt alive.

I hear the radio singing about an endless kind of love,
there's a good chance you'll be gone before daylight.
you’ve let your guard down and you’ve let someone in. all the way. you should’ve expected your life isn’t a fairytale. one evening you two had plans for dinner. you were dating for almost two whole months now and you  never doubted him when he said he’ll be working late or when he cancelled dates a few minutes before. you simply put those pearls away, took a deep breath and worried a little. that night you were ready for the next big step. you wanted to give him everything and after dinner that night it was going to happen. you’ve bought a lovely camisole in a soft beige tone. you were nervous as hell but you were sure. losing your virginity has always been a stepping stone for you, an important thing. you never wanted to give it away this foolishly before. you waited for him in front of the restaurant. and waited. you stood there in your manolo blahnik’s and waited. you fixed your dress a thousand times. and waited. you waited for 67 minutes. he didn’t come.

you sucked your lips in, chewing on the lower, to stop yourself from crying. your eyes were itching with on-coming tears. you weren’t a crier. you never cried. you sucked it up and moved on, better. you were dignified and you weren’t someone who cried over foolish things like men. after all you were with him for only a little while, you barely knew him and all. but he knew everything. and now he decided it wasn’t good enough for him.

your heels are clacking on the grey pavement as you start rushing to your apartment. you don’t hear the steps behind you, you are too absorbed in your own little nightmare to be aware there is another one going on. you make a right turn into a half-dimmed alley because it’s a shortcut. because you wanted to be home as soon as possible – you wanted to watch a cheesy romantic movie, stuff yourself with ice cream and perhaps even drown yourself in tears. you knew you will do none of the above. you will bake some cookies and study. you didn’t see him. you didn’t see the hand coming, not until it covered your mouth and silenced your shriek of terror. you didn’t have time to fully panic, to fight back, to think. everything was dark.

you didn’t lose your virginity to the man you were dating, a man you liked, a man you desired. you lost it right there in the alley. except you hadn’t lost it at all. someone took it away. and life went on.

you can run on for a long time, run on for a long time,
sooner or later God'll cut you down.
something happens and you changed. it’s what happened to you and you learned from it. you did what you always did. you piled the pieces and started putting them together. you decided you are unstoppable. you went to a hospital in following weeks, got tested, made sure you were okay. and you were. you went back to college. you went back to the letter your former boyfriend left you on your bed. the letter had some splatters of blood on it. there is still a scar on your hip where the knife nicked your skin. you were tainted but you decided it won’t define you. you never wished you had died that night. you never told anyone about it. you got your degree, moved back to your hometown and to your family. you got a job at the family’s company and you paved your way to the top. you run the company now. you are important.

people describe you as cold hearted. as someone without emotions, someone who relies on power and money. they say you are a petty vain human being and you have it good. your life is all roses and butterflies. it’s because you wear expensive shoes, silk blouses and pencil skirts. your hair is always perfectly done and you have a weekly manicure. your lips are strawberry and you hold your head up with dignity. they know it’s better to not rattle you. they know you thrive for power and control. they say you are a bitch.

you are not your ocd. you are not your heartbreak. you are not your body. you are not weak. you are not your past. you are not your pain. you are not your disconnection. you are not your scar. you are not your fear. you are not your appearance. you are not your name. you are not your panic attacks. you are not your doubts. you are not your defensiveness. you are not your rape.

relationships come and go. there was a few men you dated. you’ve been intimate with some but it was always painful and you were always on the edge of panic. you don’t dare to make big dreams. dreams about family and kids. you live for your job and you are always there for your siblings. you try to lead a decent life and you always stayed detached. the last time you got hurt and now you are careful. you are still a good soldier. but you are also a marshal of your own army. and you will stomp on and on, you can’t be stopped and one day, even the nightmares will pass, just like everything else passes too.
sandra, 20, 8+
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ObjavljaNaslov sporočila: Re: clayton, emmalyn   Sob Jan 11, 2014 1:43 am

she is all done.
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kayla brown
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ObjavljaNaslov sporočila: Re: clayton, emmalyn   Sob Jan 11, 2014 1:49 am

EMMALYN CLAYTON,
pozdravljen/a v silverstreamu. tvoj lik je sprejet, ne pozabi pa na temo s face claimi in vse ostale zadeve!

želimo ti prijetno pisanje, predvsem pa obilo zabave!
urška, lilith, sky



Here's what we do, all of us
We come and we go
And the time in between is precious
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