I never was the hugest fan of christmas but this year is certainly the worst. It's my second real christmas without Tim and without...Anka, also. And without anyone else, for that matter. I find myself thinking of wrens and rubbing my tattoo far too often, plagued by my own stupid memory. Blessing and a curse, lemme tell you ( Read more... )

Staying in Trenton.

Work starts Wednesday. Taking tomorrow to find somewhere for judo.

He doesn't understand that it's completely different from him and Fish. Maybe that's what's pissing me off so bad. I know I'm jealous of them, I want what they have, but I'm never gonna have it with her. We've had the talk already, she's not my girlfriend, she's not the kind to settle down. It's great, yeah, and convenient and comfortable but ( Read more... )

I'm no god damn hero at all ( Read more... )

Allistar wakes among the dead, a body on top of a body stacked atop another body. Cold stiff limbs and the faint smell of new death and aged copper of blood somewhere close by. It numbs him in ways his mutation can't account for. He was dead. These people on, around, under, near him are dead. And there's a nothingness beyond that's left him ( Read more... )

Anka is making me watch this stupid fucking Ann Rice movie and I want to slap her. Fuck, this retarded movie. Ann Rice is a terrible person and an awful writer ( Read more... )

pros/cons of fucking off to another world. This is a list I should actually make.

going crazy.

Fixing up the office sucks. There's a huge hole in the wall.

I'm hiring out tonight, fuck everything.

Can I get a proper god damn up in hurr?

Fuck. The Nexus was wank central tonight and my flist exploded. Also had to sit down with Anka and explain what the fuck since Norman decided to be a twat to her too (though I have no idea why she knows him but whatever. Small time shit ( Read more... )

JESUS CHRIST ALL THESE PRIVATE POSTS ARE KILLING ME ( Read more... )

"FUCK." Allistar slams his laptop closed hard and pushes away from the desk in the office with a tiny growl. His hands are fists, arms stiff lines connected at his shoulders. The rage is a visible thing, the way it makes everything taut and has his brow drawn low over his eyes. "Fucker." He shakes with it, has to just stand there and try to ( Read more... )