posh.

So I've been spending a couple of days in Marbella with a couple of friends at my aunts house.
Poppy, Samantha and Sergio. It's amazing here, there's a pool and a sauna, tennnis court and we have a floor to ourselves.
So we've been spending ourtimes makig ourselves usefull. So far, we've...




-used the swimming pool,
-had lunch at TGI Fridays,
-slept all day,
-stayed up all night talking,
-...and watched movies.

So Sergio found something intresting upstairs in my aunts bedroom, and now he is sitting here on the couch next to me, high. He tends to have two reactions to weed, one is to be terribly annoying, the other to be the sweetest thing. Today he has decided to be a mixture of both, singing stupid songs but also cleaning the plates.
So I forgive.

Today is nice, sunny but fresh, not like yesterday, when we went to the pool. I havn't had so much fun in such a long time. The water was so refreshing I kind of died with pleasure when I dipped in.
But today, today it's a movie marathon.
We've already watched 12 monkeys. fight club, Ocean's 11 and 300. Now we're on to Scareface, as Poppy hasn't seen it.

I love Scareface. The way Al Pacino plays the perfect character that disgusts you and still leaves room for pity, the beginning, already exciting, and ofcourse, all the guns and drugs.
Poppy looks unintrested, but she looks that way most of the time when we watch movies. She just made fun of a scene, another typical thing. Sergio is singing.

Well, to wherever it was I was getting.
Marbella. Oh, Marbella.
Palm trees, nice beaches, the restaurants are great. It's all amazing, really. I would have an amazing time, living here.
If I were a milionare.
I walk by Luis Vuitton. Agent Provocature looks about as big as my house, and it doesn't even have anything in it. Just frilly carpets and suede cloth hanging from the ceiling.
I go into Juicy Cotoure. I see a horrible yellow dress that no one would ever buy. I check the price, curiously. 890 Euros.
My dad takes us out to lunch. Since we're not very hundry, we share. I look at the bill as we leave. 115 Euros. My mouth hangs open and I want to grab the 15 euro tip he's left.

I don't understand how so many people can live here. And it's not like there's a mix, poor, rich and middle class. They are all rich. Every person I see in Puerto Banus is wearing Dolce Gabana or Betty Blue heels, it kills me. Kills me.
I mean, how can someone in their right mind use 600 euros on a pair of leopard printed heels?
That's my rent. That is my bloody rent, and sometimes my mother can't pay for it.
Another thing that bothers me. So fine, you're filthy rich, you buy yourself expensive clothes, whatever.
But you do not have to look down on me. I am not stupid because I havn't been to a fancy school.
My jeans are not broken because I don't have money to buy new ones. I don't wear gold because I do not like it. My head is shevd at the sides because I like it, not because I have cancer.

I don't like stuck up, in any way possible.