Texas Rez

Nooooo don't be that way. :hug:

Just as long as you think you look beautiful with that hairdo! :nice: Loving yourself is a beautiful thing.

Are you gonna let it grow to get a bigger beehive? :P

The only person I ever saw pull off the beehive hairdo was Amy Winehouse. :lol: May she rest peacefully. :cry:

Finishing up the Kindle manuscript for the first five Rezzy Leon stories. :P You?

Gerald

Yolanda

61537

But it really depends on why you're attracted to them. That's the way I see it, anyway. There's a friend of mine who looks really really physically attractive to me, but her away communication stinks. :P

But in the end of the day, you must ask yourself: "Looks over personality or personality over looks?"

Wow.... Don't even give me a "hi" today, but something else. haha :\ Has it really come down to that?!

Ooh okay. xD But it's up to you on whether or not you want to try talking to him or not. :\ Keyword: try.

Typing, as it makes my life easier. :P SQ

Then maybe you should try talking to him first. Get to know him a bit and see where it goes from there, y'know?

Well, I do, but not much people embrace that characteristic of me. :lol: Do you prefer writing in pen or pencil?

What's making you thinking about him so much?? :(

Why? What happened?

Same here. Hahah xD But I've been good, though, thanks. :P

Hey Molly. How are you?

Good luck! :P I'm giving it another shot, too. Haha

17-7: “A Sole Up the Stick” I felt the frigid air-conditioning brush through my hair as I found myself running back down the halls backstage with Chris and his two bodyguards chasing me. I saw Jonny walking down the hall to my direction holding a cup of coffee. I accidentally ran him over, causing his sweltering coffee to spill on his black shirt and teal pants. I was too much in a rush to apologize to the poor guitarist—I’m sure his insurance will cover the costs of his burn treatments. Amid my frantic run, I suddenly felt my left foot resist the urge to lift, preventing me to continue running much further. It felt as if someone was holding onto my ankle, restricting me to run to freedom. I fell to the floor face-down and quickly glanced down at my shoes, realizing that a shoelace of mine had come untied, causing me to trip. Craig, Clint and Chris Martin were quickly catching up to me, not letting their opportunity to be cursed and missed. Craig dived down and tightly gripped my ankle, not wanting to let me go. I squirmed my foot out of my shoe free, kicking him in the face as I quickly stood up on my own two feet, one shoe down. I continued to limply run my way down the hall with one shoe and finally saw the door that Tim and I’d both snuck through to get in. Finally, I pushed the door open as I kicked my other shoe off my foot, freeing myself to run—with socks, that is. I didn’t look back, but I heard one of the bodyguards grunt as I heard someone fall to the ground. “Oh shit!” I heard Chris yell. I kept thinking to myself the only true advice my dad had ever gave me: Don’t look back when you’re running away from something. Yes… something. I ran around the venue to the front to see if Tim was there. Just as Chris and a bodyguard were still running after me, I heard the clicks of cameras and photographers yell Chris’ name, trying to get his attention—and they succeeded. “Oh, thank you papa—paparazzi!” I said to myself, catching my breath as I stopped and turned around to look at the paparazzi surrounding Chris Martin. “FUUUUUUCCCK!” I heard him angrily yell. I shrugged it off and patted myself on the back, reminding myself of how lucky I am to have made it out alive in one piece. I finally made my way to the front of the venue and saw a melancholy Tim sitting on the curb, pouting over the ripped tickets with the palm of his hand holding the weight of his head. “Hey Tim,” I said, looking down at him. Tim looked up to make eye contact with me and then looked back down… at my feet, that is. “Where the hell are your shoes?” Tim asked, bewildered. “Don’t worry about where my shoes went, Tim. Just be glad I made it out alive. Chris was this literally this close to tackling my ass down to the ground,” I said, sitting down on the curb next to Tim. “Just be glad you got your phone back,” I smiled. “Now show me that golden picture of yours!” “They…” Tim hesitated. “They what?” “They deleted the picture.” “They WHAT?!” “I said they deleted the picture.” “But Tim, doesn’t your phone have a lock on it or something?” “That’s what I thought. Apparently something must’ve happened. What if—just what if—they never took the picture in the first place?” “Don’t over-think it because we’re going to do a redo with them,” I demanded as I stood up. “I don’t think that would be necessary,” Tim said, still sitting on the curb. “But you want that picture now, don’t you?” “Yeah, but I’m… I don’t know; I’m just glad I got to meet Coldplay. Thanks for sneaking me in, Rezzy,” Tim smiled up to Rezzy. “You’re welcome, I guess.” “Well? What now?” “I don’t know, Tim… I just don’t know. On another note, my dad has these tickets to a Joe Satriani concert next month…” © Anthony Romero, Chris Martin, Will Champion, Jonny Buckland, Guy Berryman, Phil Harvey (Coldplay told me to give them at least 80% credit for this unoriginal story, otherwise I’d be sued.), Joe Satriani, Moe Batriani, David Bowie, Björk, Johnny Cash, Bob Dylan, Boards of Canada, Neutral Milk Hotel, Def Leppard, Paul McCartney, Nine Inch Nails, Pearl Jam, Beck, Lil’ Wayne, The Coldplaying Community 2013

I don't think that matters.

It's not taking that long, is it?! xD

I love that song. :wacky:

Aahahah xD That's where I got the last name for my character, Tim Desmond.