She's a cool cat. Just don't step on her tail or things will get viscous. You can't hide from her. Not that you would want to. She's got the attitude of a stray with the polish of a house cat. All the guys want to be with her and the girls want to be her. But this cat is a lone ranger. She doesn't stick around for long.

Isolation can be dangerous for a place such as this. Not even insects dare approach the waste land. Yet I find myself drawn to it like sleeping beauty was drawn to the spindle. This place is a warning. If I go any further I will die here. Death is not my motive. I know I need to leave. Soon. How does this place exist in any sort of realm? Even if it is all in my head?

Corporate lies. Corporate greed. You're too classy for their wicked schemes. They mold you, "fix" you, they break you down. They drown you until you have nothing left, then you give in. But you're too classy for their wicked schemes. Where does that leave you now? You broken, beautiful thing. You have the gun. You have the bullets. You're too afraid to put the two together. What makes you any better than them? What makes you any better than them? You beautiful, broken thing.

The smell was familiar. The heat was barely tolerable. There was no place she would rather be than with the uncountable number of strangers on the most memorable weekend of her year. This is her much needed escape from the world. It is what keeps her alive and sane. It is the one place that she can feel normal. No one could take that moment, that feeling, away from her. It was hers forever.

It's not every day that she abandons her books and journals to make an appearance. The spring temptations are too much to resist. She likes it simple. She doesn't like to stand out, yet she is always turning heads. Natural beauty as if she was born from a flower. Look while you can, boys. This one's a wallflower.

Created in the Polyvore iPhone app. http://www.polyvore.com/iPhone