blankly,
SHINee, pg-13, Gwiboon centric. use of drugs implied.
a/n: i'm getting used to writing in english! and i don't really know what this is for. i love gwiboon i don't know why did i write this.
i got the idea while lurking flickr, so this was slightly inspired by these photos. 1 & 2
She was staring blankly at the ceiling, waiting for it to fall down at some point. She just wanted her eyes to close down and stop, just stop. What was she doing, she wasn't really sure. She breathed in once more, clogging her lungs, clouding her mind, laying on the bed almost lifelessly.
Her red swollen lips parting a bit more, following her unsteady heartbeat, trying to pull the weak string of her thoughts just before passing out.
She was just tired.
Her hair was greasy, her skin was slick under the dim and dull light, smeared make up, faked tears, hidden flaws that looked pretty, contrasting greatly with the white overwashed sheets. The sounds, she thought, the sounds were disappearing one by one, first they were loud; annoying and drumming against her ears, and later they were just kind echos in the room, they nearly sounded like a lullaby.
She was dizzy.
The injection was thrown aside, and so was her sanity. At some point, before the lights went completely off and those sounds left her alone, she wondered if she'd ever come back. She didn't want to think she was desperate, she didn't like to believe she still had hope because at some point, she just wanted it to disappear. She didn't want to dream, she didn't want to wake up to a sunny day with clouds covering everything, she didn't want to wake up and breathe in a lie. the greatest lie was life itself, she thought, and she was curious when would hers end. She was just so tired.
Her clothes were dirty, they smelled like alcohol and uncertain nights, uncertain touches, uncertain memories. She wanted to take them off but the strenght had abandoned her, and she gave up almost instanly. What was the point, she'd pass out soon anyway.
She was waiting for it.
Until the light came in again, the sounds; disturbingly loud, the smell, it was just gross, until that time, she opened her eyes. How long had she been sleeping, she didn't know. Her almond teary eyes glanced around, lazily, resignedly.
She still wondered how long would it take her to fall asleep this time, when she washed her tired face. She had eyebags, and dark smoky lines of make up decorating her eyelids.
Who am I, those lines were written over the mirror, and she was curious to know.
She was so curious. Yet not eager.
Her curled hair was adorning her tiny shoulders, it looked pretty, but she just wanted to get rid of it. She had pouty, pink colored lips, and they were beautiful, but she just wanted to hide them. She was just so tired of being someone who wasn't herself at all. She was hiding behind words, under compliments, she was hiding behind the huge wall of Kim Gwiboon and her selfish, egocentric, rude and arrogant-self, people said.
She wasn't perfect, she wasn't talented, she wasn't real.
Who was Kim Gwiboon, the brown haired girl wondered, closing her eyelids once more, closing her fists, moving his toes, feeling the familiar flow in her veins, drowning.
A bunch of lies, long legs and slim waist, sharp eyes and high cheekbones. Where was she going, she didn't know.
She was just staring blankly at the ceiling, waiting for it to fall down and bury that unknown person she considered herself.
a/n: i'm getting used to writing in english! and i don't really know what this is for. i love gwiboon i don't know why did i write this.
i got the idea while lurking flickr, so this was slightly inspired by these photos. 1 & 2
She was staring blankly at the ceiling, waiting for it to fall down at some point. She just wanted her eyes to close down and stop, just stop. What was she doing, she wasn't really sure. She breathed in once more, clogging her lungs, clouding her mind, laying on the bed almost lifelessly.
Her red swollen lips parting a bit more, following her unsteady heartbeat, trying to pull the weak string of her thoughts just before passing out.
She was just tired.
Her hair was greasy, her skin was slick under the dim and dull light, smeared make up, faked tears, hidden flaws that looked pretty, contrasting greatly with the white overwashed sheets. The sounds, she thought, the sounds were disappearing one by one, first they were loud; annoying and drumming against her ears, and later they were just kind echos in the room, they nearly sounded like a lullaby.
She was dizzy.
The injection was thrown aside, and so was her sanity. At some point, before the lights went completely off and those sounds left her alone, she wondered if she'd ever come back. She didn't want to think she was desperate, she didn't like to believe she still had hope because at some point, she just wanted it to disappear. She didn't want to dream, she didn't want to wake up to a sunny day with clouds covering everything, she didn't want to wake up and breathe in a lie. the greatest lie was life itself, she thought, and she was curious when would hers end. She was just so tired.
Her clothes were dirty, they smelled like alcohol and uncertain nights, uncertain touches, uncertain memories. She wanted to take them off but the strenght had abandoned her, and she gave up almost instanly. What was the point, she'd pass out soon anyway.
She was waiting for it.
Until the light came in again, the sounds; disturbingly loud, the smell, it was just gross, until that time, she opened her eyes. How long had she been sleeping, she didn't know. Her almond teary eyes glanced around, lazily, resignedly.
She still wondered how long would it take her to fall asleep this time, when she washed her tired face. She had eyebags, and dark smoky lines of make up decorating her eyelids.
Who am I, those lines were written over the mirror, and she was curious to know.
She was so curious. Yet not eager.
Her curled hair was adorning her tiny shoulders, it looked pretty, but she just wanted to get rid of it. She had pouty, pink colored lips, and they were beautiful, but she just wanted to hide them. She was just so tired of being someone who wasn't herself at all. She was hiding behind words, under compliments, she was hiding behind the huge wall of Kim Gwiboon and her selfish, egocentric, rude and arrogant-self, people said.
She wasn't perfect, she wasn't talented, she wasn't real.
Who was Kim Gwiboon, the brown haired girl wondered, closing her eyelids once more, closing her fists, moving his toes, feeling the familiar flow in her veins, drowning.
A bunch of lies, long legs and slim waist, sharp eyes and high cheekbones. Where was she going, she didn't know.
She was just staring blankly at the ceiling, waiting for it to fall down and bury that unknown person she considered herself.