Chokeberry #20, Vanilla Custard #14, Carob #4, w/ Cream & Cherry - Hopeless, Worthless, Guilty
Title: Hopeless, Worthless, Guilty
Summary: Oz visits Jakob’s grave.
Timeline: April 2003 - Oz is 17.
Challenge: Chokeberry #20 (sometimes goodbye is better than see you soon - Oz trying to make peace with losing Jakob), Vanilla Custard #14 (I try to live without you, every time I do I feel dead. - Over and Over by Three Days Grace), Carob #4 (inferiority)
Toppings/Extras: Whipped Cream, Cherry (First person, introspective.)
Word Count: 141
Rating: PG-13
I should hate you, Jakob. I should hate you so much. How the fuck am I supposed to do anything now? You were the one with the brains. You had the fucking potential. I don’t have anything. I never had anything, and then you showed up...
And then you died. You left me. You left a world that’s worse off for it. You met me, and made me fall in love with you, and now it’s nothing but pain. I should fucking hate you. And I hate myself for not. I hate myself for meeting you, and giving myself hope that there might have been something good in my life, and losing you. I hate myself for not doing anything else.
I could have done something else. You died, and it’s my fault. I should hate you. I hate myself instead.
Summary: Oz visits Jakob’s grave.
Timeline: April 2003 - Oz is 17.
Challenge: Chokeberry #20 (sometimes goodbye is better than see you soon - Oz trying to make peace with losing Jakob), Vanilla Custard #14 (I try to live without you, every time I do I feel dead. - Over and Over by Three Days Grace), Carob #4 (inferiority)
Toppings/Extras: Whipped Cream, Cherry (First person, introspective.)
Word Count: 141
Rating: PG-13
I should hate you, Jakob. I should hate you so much. How the fuck am I supposed to do anything now? You were the one with the brains. You had the fucking potential. I don’t have anything. I never had anything, and then you showed up...
And then you died. You left me. You left a world that’s worse off for it. You met me, and made me fall in love with you, and now it’s nothing but pain. I should fucking hate you. And I hate myself for not. I hate myself for meeting you, and giving myself hope that there might have been something good in my life, and losing you. I hate myself for not doing anything else.
I could have done something else. You died, and it’s my fault. I should hate you. I hate myself instead.