WARNING: This is a random example of how teenagers text

Sam:Hayy.chicka! 🙂
Haley:wtf?i’m not mexican
Sam: IKT, but i wuz tryin to be funi
Haley: oh wyd 2dai?
Haley: wanna go 2 de mal?
Sam:na, i hav 2 tak mi litle bro 2 clas
Haley: thts nt nuin
Sam: yes. Cuz i dnt wana do anithng 2day
Haley(in head)wtf?? [Yes,thats how she thinks now]

.sends:o. oky
sam : gtg.ttyl 🙂

Chapter four of ‘someone to love’©®

Chapter four
Did Luther think i was rather odd? I combed my hair,that night, while my parents ate dinner,I never ate dinner, because mother refused to say supper. She refused to call us to sup. No one humored me. I grumbled. Then ran my fingers down my mirror.

What Did Luther think of the nineteenth century. If he liked it, I would like him. I put my flowers in a glass vase near on my dresser. I smelled them. How splendous!!!! His choice in flowers was applaudable. Luther…Luther…Luther.Luther? Why,was I thinking of him? Oh yes, because he had thanked me quite chivarously. I had never been thanked with flowers before. I rather fancied it. I changed into my nightwear and wrote in my journal:
                               May 13th 2013
      Dear Luther,
I like the flowers very much. No one has ever gotten me flowers before. It was thoughtful of you.
                            thank you, Lilia.
I closed my journal.
” Where did you get those flowers Lilia?” Daddy asked.
I answered slowly,as though the answr were evident, and lied” Mr.G’s florist shop at the corner, Daddy. I really wanted  them.”

“You should spend your allowance on practical things. Like…. Snacks for afterschool. Not flowers.”

” Oh.Daddy.” I humored his pragmatic spending…his unromantic lifestyle, his unartistic proclivities.”Next time.”

My parents didnt know that I saved my allowance, five hundred dollars a month, for my stock account, and the pretty marble lamp that l put on layaway last month.

I slept well that night.Luther appeared in my dreams several times. He was pretty, which subtracted from his manhood.Maybe he should grow a beard, I thought as I readied for school.
What would the girls at school think? They rately spoke to me, so their thought process baffled me. Did they think like hippies or she-apes….or like me? Probably not the later.

“Lilia!!!!! Hurry, I’m leaving in five minutes.I have to say something” Daddy told me. So I buckled my shoes and hurried down the stairs.
“Yes Father.” I said sweetly, stopping by the kitchen counter.

” You are getting bigger honey. You’re fifteen. I want you to plan a Friday night date.”
I frowned,” I have plans on Friday, from last Friday.”
“ooh.Alright.” He answered contented.
They, my parents, thought I had a social disorder thwarting me from making friends.No ,those girls simply were not my best fit.

Daddy left. I waved at mom, then went outside. He was waiting in the street on a motorcycle that made incredible noise. I waved.

“Salutations savior!” He waved back. A blonde girl was on the back of his bike. She enjoyed having her arms around his waist. I could see it in her eyes.
  “Halo.” I stayed at a distance.
“So you like Sherlock Holmes, also?” Luther assumed.
My eyes squinted in the sun,”That’s an  accurate deduction. But I must go.”

“Why?” He frowned. I smiled, because he would rather I stayed.

” I have school.”

” I forget that everyone isn’t in college” He smiled. It was a stunning smile. His lips curled at the corners.

“Good bye, Luther and….?” I glanced at the girl behind him.
Luther smiled and said strangely,”This is Denali.” I didnt like her name. I know a hippie at The Secret Cafe named Denali. But I beamed, despite my hippiephobia, because I wouldn’t like to insult her…an unsuspecting HIPPIE.
“Good bye, hipster.” I said instead, then walked away. School was terrible today, until a pleasant surprise shocked me and the offensive hippie ,Olivia , on the cement steeps of my  privileged private school( we didnt wear uniform, except on school trips).The principal was her busy bee he-hippie in a suit, behind the apple fragrance office father. They both offended me with their insanely hippie way of life.

Chapter three of ‘someone to love©®

Chapter three
What kind of flowers would a girl like her like?Daisies?roses were too intimiate. Perhaps tulips? Daisies
"sir which are the best to give to a girl that saved my life?"
He turned,the shopkeeper turned around and eyed me.
"ahhh.for a lover, who brings out the best in you? "

"uuh.no ,really saved my life ,not a metaphor."

" ahh.a woman .your mother?eeh?"

" no.a random girl who called the ambulance for me." I told the pro-romantists old man.he was probably Italian.

His features rose."aaaah.a savior in every way.a daisy bunch for the Belle.simple and pure…like her young heart.fall easily young man."

Simple and pure.those were about right.I paid for the Daisies then went to wait on her step.I waited the entire day.

I humored myself with philosophic theories and paintings.I painted in my mind.then she came walking up.i snapped my head up.

"excuse me?"she said first.
I smiled, slightly lopsided," You saved my life."

"I really didn’t.but thank you."she said bashfully.I dont think she realized how handsome I am when she was saving me.

"no.no.thank YOU.i was dead and you saved me.these are for you." I graced her with the Daisies wrapped with a pink silk ribbon from the flower man.He wished me the best.

"Oh!i… Oh…my.I have to go…."Then she changed her mind."Who are you?"

"I’m Luther Akinyele."I pat my stomach and held out a hand"What’s your name?"

"Luthers…Lilia Luthers."she held the flowers to her chest and smiled,"I’m a writer.Whats the means of your livelihood?"

I chuckled. Who speaks like that? It was kind of charming." I trade google and Facebook."

"I’ve been trading Facebook since last year. What else do we have in common?" Lilia asked.
"Do you admire Edgar Allan Poe?" I inquired.
She glowed and went up on her tiptoes. She said something in Japanese.it was an interjection. She repeated it in English,"Of course.he is a literary genius.I would marry him if he weren’t dead.He is so gracefully morbid."

That surprised me. I took a step back.she did also,looking ashamed.She frowned"I have to go."
I watched her go.she had a cute little frown.but her smile was big and beautiful.she unlocked her door and disappeared. A girl, about my age passed.I winked at her. I wasnt ever getting married, but I had fun at night. I ran to catch up with her and plan a date for tonight.

someone to love Chapter TWO©®

Chapter two
How do people usually behave when they save a person’s life?I hadnt told my parents… Because I tell them everything.because they KNOW of everything; except my Samaritan deed.and I intended to keep it so.
The medics wanted to know eveything about the faint man.but I knew nothing,except that he was dead. They thanked me and revived him.the ambulance rushed away.
Since the event two Weeks ago, I have imagined the happenings in several other eras…the renaissance,the revolutionary era, the depression(with myself as a flapper,then as a proper woman).either way proper or flapper I had behaved flirtatuously…and thats why those two are my optimum  daydreams. I fancy  the idea of conversing coquettishly with a dying man ridiculous and brave.I wish I were truely so utterly breathtaking.
I glanced out of my window.then recoiled and closed the drapes.yes I admired drapes not the drab curtains hung elsewhere. I liked to imagine I was from the nineteenth century…my every article was inspired from some nineteenth century design.

I let my black neck length hair lose.I tied my blue dress at the waist and admired the lovely billowy sleeves .it was Tuesday and I had school in the city.being only fifteen,i walked or Mum drove me.today was nice so I would walk.I buckled my new white boots.society girls would wear them to school in the nineteenth century…and before that.I wore them any day I pleased;on Wednesday to tap lessons, on Thursday to the wonderful secret coffee cafe with such awful lighting it was splendid,to the secret classics chess and chests club on Fridays, and sometimes,though I usually wore my shiny black mary-janes,to the speak easy,where I take photos of utterly luny characters and sometimes hippies(who I dont like because they are from the era of Indie rock and ty die.both arts confuse my senses ).
I gathered my school books.in school I was the solitary solider, I worked and ate very much alone.I went down to breakfast.
“good morning Lilia “my mother greeted me,” pretty dress.have an apple”.
I smiled outwardly, but frowned inside.I wanted nothing to do with an apple.hippies consumed apples.I wanted a cup of coffee in my porclein cup.but mother never allowed that,unless their were guests over.the only guests that visited were her and Daddy’s and they fawned over my cups….but I WAS NOT an auction dealer.
I took a tea biscuit , not because the taste appealed to me at all, but because I admired the century It was favored in.I hurried down the steps and outside.I was standing their for about an hour whistling,or listening to whisling,until I clutched my hand around my bag strap and started down the steps.
I sighed as I attracted glares from the white people who didnt move to Brooklyn.they were plenty wealthy (and not lacking racism).these insane hippies in busy bee men suits had the inane idea that black people were to be  the downfall of THE CITY. They believed our rowdy ways had come with us. But no,the rowdy fellows stayed in Brooklyn.(I think). All we did was bring culture to this lacklustre grey building scene.it was worth it. another white fellow passed.he nodded ,smiled and gave the well anticipated “hey”. So predictable.
I loathed the ability to anticipate another personS next move.but some people were simply too plain ,lacking admirable conflict in self personality and  needy of conspiracy theories to boost their unimaginative greetings.I sighed once again.then I cursed at the man in Russian.twenty first century me had pierced through.I let it happen on gray days so I could grace the world with my sunny presence. you see,I was incredibly upset that the world was so dementedly dry.I wanted to write but not about common things.I hated common things.so I had yet to write a word in my bluebook.
Then off I went, to school, to the most common place in the world.