(no subject)
Vodka and painkillers don't mix, and I don't care.
One day last winter, I got a bright idea. Took all these pictures I had and stuck them in a book. All nice and neat, like some girl.
Dragged the damned thing out today. Started looking at it. It's funny how pictures tell the story you don't want to admit to yourself.
There's not a single picture in there of Ryou. Not one. There are pictures of Saeki, Tori, of Shira, even of Kenya. Pictures of Shinya with his arms thrown around Atsushi. One gorgeous, lonely picture of Cris on his favorite horse... No Ryou. Funny, when the small things in life make the statement you can't.
But there are... all these pictures, where you can tell the photographer was in love with his subject. Secret smiles, vulnerable moments. Cute, ridiculous awful pictures that don't mean anything to anyone but you. There's this one... he's playing with the dogs, and the gruff exterior, the hidden pains and anger, have just melted away. He's young, and joyful... and when I look at that picture, the feeling is so intense that it takes my breath away.
When I look at these pictures, I remember why I closed my heart off to this. Why I refused to face it. I know why I can't be what Tori wants.
And it kills me... because it's all my fault.
One day last winter, I got a bright idea. Took all these pictures I had and stuck them in a book. All nice and neat, like some girl.
Dragged the damned thing out today. Started looking at it. It's funny how pictures tell the story you don't want to admit to yourself.
There's not a single picture in there of Ryou. Not one. There are pictures of Saeki, Tori, of Shira, even of Kenya. Pictures of Shinya with his arms thrown around Atsushi. One gorgeous, lonely picture of Cris on his favorite horse... No Ryou. Funny, when the small things in life make the statement you can't.
But there are... all these pictures, where you can tell the photographer was in love with his subject. Secret smiles, vulnerable moments. Cute, ridiculous awful pictures that don't mean anything to anyone but you. There's this one... he's playing with the dogs, and the gruff exterior, the hidden pains and anger, have just melted away. He's young, and joyful... and when I look at that picture, the feeling is so intense that it takes my breath away.
When I look at these pictures, I remember why I closed my heart off to this. Why I refused to face it. I know why I can't be what Tori wants.
And it kills me... because it's all my fault.