I had a crush on this super-skinny artsy chick with dark hair and olive skin, and a heart shaped face. I had fantasies about her for a week. She's got a sort of bohemian fashion sense, and can pull it off because of her thin frame and beautiful black eyelashes. (One time, she wore this silk turban from a thrift store. Gotta hand out some props for the boldness there. Love girls with a sense of individuality.)
I envisioned a walk around the market with her, picking out funky clothing items and an antique lamp for my apartment. Then a cup of espresso accompanied by a thick glossy magazine in a dimly lit corner of a bookstore, discussing fashion, politics, things of deep importance. We could spend the day hand-in-hand, eyes locked. That's what I envisioned.
Until I overheard some peers talking about "that cracked out chick" who had apparently been engaged in some girl-on-girl debauchery the night before. Is she cracked out? I guess she is kinda dazed and plastic looking, her pupils dilated and a sheepish grin on her face. Maybe I am attracted to crackheads, then...
Now I envision a walk upstairs with her, to fuck after getting high. But I preferred the first, romantic vision.
