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September 17, 2000
Last Visit: 1 day ago
This is the place where you can personalize your profile!
By moving, adding and personalizing widgets.
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"Why," you ask? Because we want profile pages to have freedom of customization, but also to have some consistency. This way, when anyone visits a deviant, they know they can always find the art in the top left, and personal info in the top right.
Don't forget, restraints can bring out the creativity in you!
Now go forth and astound us all with your devious profiles!
It’s a rainy day, with leaves blowing off the trees. Today was the day I go to see my parents since the beginning of summer. I’m heading down 54th street and I see my parent’s apartment complex and I quicken my steps with a smile on my face. It takes a while to get to my apartment, because the elevator is broken and I live on the 7th floor. When I reach my door I grab my keys to unlock my door and see my step-sister playing video games, that I bought for our game system. When I walk into the kitchen my father sees me and ran to give me a hug. When I finish telling my family what happened over my summer break at camp, with a few details left out for a reason. I go take a shower and head to my room. It was the same as when I left after school ended. It had a single bed with grey and white sheets and the metal frame had a beautiful black finish to it. My dresser was a light brown color with dark brown knobs, the closet was a plain white door filled with boxes from my childhood, they’d been there since we moved here five years ago. I head to my window that leads to the fire escape and look across to see a window that’s open. The window is very familiar to me for two years. As I stare at the window I see a shadow cross the opening. I smile hoping he will look out the window or go and sit on his fire escape as he usually does after a long day. A few minutes later my wish is granted, he climbs through the window and just there with his coffee mug. This is the first time I’ve seen him so relaxed since the beginning of the camp year. He’s wearing the Linkin Park shirt I bought him for his birthday a year ago, with baggy black sweat pants and black converses. His long, messy light brown hair is in a bun and he just stands there like he’s waiting for something to happen. His dark brown eyes meet my light blue eyes, he smiles and holds his mug up, “Hey Mitchell.”