Listen, I suck, okay?
I'm getting exceptionally tired of being a douche to my LJ f-list. I'm just...ignoring it. And that's not right.
Can't promise I'm changing for good, but I'mma try. All those comms I lurk on? Yeah, lets stop lurking. According to some people, I'm actually funny and bubbly and people like me. So to hell with my stupidity, I'm going to be who I'm supposed to. Starting with FIC. Original fic, to be exact. God knows how long ago it was I asked if y'all would be okay with me posting Originals, so here we go. Your first taste of my mind...well, my mind at 3:30 in the morning when I couldn't sleep and didn't want to text anyone in fear that I'll wake them up and my muse just randomly bashes me in the head. With a rubber chicken. Or, at least, that's what it felt like when I was writing this. I don't like it. But it's there. It's taunting me. And I know I need to actually post shit again. So. Yeah.
Title: Recede
Fandom: Original, I think?
Rating: PG-13, just in case.
Word Count: 685.
Disclaimer/Copyright shizz: I DO NOT OWN OPENING QUOTE. Nope. That's all Matt Bellamy, Dominic Howard, and Chris Wolstenholme. AKA Muse. The rest of it? Totes mine. You CANNOT HAVE. It was written 3:30 AM, Tuesday, January 25th, BY ME. Hannah S. In my bed. On my phone. Then was edited sometime later the same day. COPYRIGHTED, DAMMMIT, I RESERVE RIGHT TO SUE!
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Can’t you see that I am needing, begging for so much more than you could ever give? And I don’t want you adore me, don’t want you to ignore me when it pleases you. And I’ll do it on my own. ~ Muscle Muesum by Muse.
It hurts. Knowing that, had I been more cautious, had I looked a little further, I could have seen it all. Could have known what was to come. It’s tight and painful, like something is pressing inside my chest, against my lungs, cutting me off from take deep and regular breaths. And something, some tendril or another, is winding itself around my heart. Squeezing tight at random intervals and causing my body to shudder and twitch in spasms unwanted.
An ache behind my eyes. Tears that simply won’t come to the surface, no matter what I try, how much I need the release a single sob could bring. A twinge in my back as I turn, the burn of a regular heat in my cheeks. Knowing that it’s all in my mind, that it isn’t real. But it comes with no remorse, no tentativeness or hesitancy in its blunt force.
And the feather moon recedes, blue skies come to reign. Colors fade, blackness begins. Hands hold me down and shoot pain across my nerves, sparking fire, thunder, and lightning. Loki and Thor’s wrath falling upon the able body of the young. I hate it. Hate this. Hate you.
Hatred running so deep, so carved in my skin it marrs the soul, but it can’t really be hate. Hate has never been a chasm like this, never toyed with thoughts of friendship and comfort and tender words with calming effects. This can’t be hate. I can’t hate you so much and still desire to feel encompassed in warmth and light you bring. I can’t. Simply and not so simply can’t.
Red molten against crisp white and it begins again. A cycle. A fear. A desire for it all to end. Prayers and hopes and dreams. Nightmares and hallucinations and the dead. No one should have this much control, whether in flesh and blood or soulless entity.
But I let you. Simply because you don’t ask, don’t even realize I want you to. You watch from half-lidded eyes at every other word and I want to scream, want to cry, want to sing the final verse that has not been written yet.
Out of voice, out of pain, out of rotted flesh and stinking blood. And I hate this and I’ll love you but you won’t love me.
Simple. Not so simple. Don’t you see? This is a cycle, this paralytic dream, it’s all out of a love that is never to come. Because if it were this would end and I don’t want it to. But I hate it. I hate you. But I want it and I want you.
Cycle, cycle, cycle. A forever blurr of the lines, of the sporadic leaves on the trees branches. Green becomes wood. Can’t go back, don’t want to go back, must go back. I don’t want any of it and yet I do and I just don’t understand my own mind again. I understand I fear. I understand that something in me boils. I understand that I will never understand anything but this. This moment in time, suspended as the world turns white and the people fade and I’m left alone. And the drums will come, spontaneous and painful to the ear, announcing that life has ended but I still go on.
Dreaming I’m alive.
Dreaming I’m hurt and there’s laughter and damn all if I’m not scared straight but I can’t bring myself to really care. Because I’m alone. Finally. Without you always beside me, taunting me softly. And, yes, there are traces of what was there before but it’s faded now because I’m alone. Alone and fearful and in a worse pain than before, but somehow it’s better and somehow it’s worse.
I didn’t want you to go but there’s relief now that you’re gone.
I just want the release.
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Fear more fic in the future. I have stuff to unload.