(no subject)
Who: Dexter Morgan and OPEN; multiple threads encouraged.
What: Playing pool.
Where: Level six.
When: Early morning Miami hours.
Warnings: Not as of now!
There's no excuse for my sloppy behavior. Not a rule in any book that justifies the awful mess I've made of my stay here. Harry wouldn't be able to look me in eye if he was here. I can't blame Brian for being so stern, using those guiding hands to steer me in whatever direction he pleases. If I let him do this, maybe I won't become my dark passenger. With Brian, I can stay the same monster with the same ideology. My code. If I continue unguided, unchecked, unruled, I know exactly where I'll end up. Six feet under, convicted for Rita's murder. That won't do.
So far all I've managed to do is move everything evenly and make the spread completely unmanageable. My untrained shots to win only make everything more complicated and I still haven't sunk a satisfying shot. The more this feels like a recurring theme, the more I'm staring to hate the color green. Pool was never something I cared to learn, or cared about at all. It was something college kids perfected late at night in a poorly lit bar with their pals. I spent my time in college killing wayward frat boy rapists and prowling campus killers by night. There was a good reason I couldn't sink a shot.
What: Playing pool.
Where: Level six.
When: Early morning Miami hours.
Warnings: Not as of now!
There's no excuse for my sloppy behavior. Not a rule in any book that justifies the awful mess I've made of my stay here. Harry wouldn't be able to look me in eye if he was here. I can't blame Brian for being so stern, using those guiding hands to steer me in whatever direction he pleases. If I let him do this, maybe I won't become my dark passenger. With Brian, I can stay the same monster with the same ideology. My code. If I continue unguided, unchecked, unruled, I know exactly where I'll end up. Six feet under, convicted for Rita's murder. That won't do.
So far all I've managed to do is move everything evenly and make the spread completely unmanageable. My untrained shots to win only make everything more complicated and I still haven't sunk a satisfying shot. The more this feels like a recurring theme, the more I'm staring to hate the color green. Pool was never something I cared to learn, or cared about at all. It was something college kids perfected late at night in a poorly lit bar with their pals. I spent my time in college killing wayward frat boy rapists and prowling campus killers by night. There was a good reason I couldn't sink a shot.