One Reason To Hate Our Generation.

Brain Washed

"Hi. Nice to finally meet you. Never thought I'd finally get to meet ya." This girl was a very pretty young women. Maybe her late teens. Maybe 19. She had semi-pale skin, dark rose pink hair with coral blue streaks, neither color was neon, it was muted, and flattering. She wore a large shoulder cut shirt, with a light gray strap visible on her right shoulder, and a camouflage green on her left. She wore navy blue jeans cut and fraid at the knees, they didn't go past her shins. Her shoes were black and gold Converse. Her voice sounded fimilar. It's sounded like she had a French-Canadian accent, but still sounded American sonehow. "Eh, you just gonna stand ther and look at me?" You shook you head and looked at her "Oh, uh, sorry there." You shook the girl's hand, she had a firm grip. "So Titanna, how ya been girl?" Your eyes widen. She knew my name? I feel bad I do not know hers. You nod and half smile, "I've been pretty good-" you leave an invitation for her to say her name. "Krisste, remember?" Krisste. Krisste was your favorite friend growing up. You two were as close as the sky to the clouds. "Krisste-!" You open your arms and give her a bear hug, like you used to do when you were kids. "Woah woah, yee act just like old times eh?" The girl joked and chuckled. "You look so diffrent from when we were younger..." Krisste's smile gets slightly smaller, "Heh, Ehh, Things happen..." She looked down at her hand. "No No! It's not bad! Just.... diffrent," you add. Shoot, I fucked it up. She smiles again and chuckles to herself.