Some Things
I've had these lying around for a while, sort of half-finished and with no real hope of going anywhere any time soon because I lack the muse to complete them.
"Clearly you have no idea how much it pains me to get through each day. The struggle to eat, to smile, to talk. I feel like a puppet, but no ones pulling my strings, I have to do all that myself. Just getting out of bed is difficult, waking from a sleepless night to walk through the day, barely living. You've no idea what it's like. And you won't ever. Because you simply have no desire to. You don't want to know what it's like to forget to breathe, to go to eat and find all food makes you physically ill just by looking at it. To pretend to be happy is to deny yourself freedom, the freedom to just exist. And when you don't know who you are anymore, it gets hard to even just exist, so you have to fake that happiness so that everyone else believes you're still around, even you don't. I go through the days in a daze, I don't know the date, or whether it's Monday or Friday. I just know that I'm still alive by some cruel twist of fate. But the thing is, I don't want to kill myself. I'm not suicidal. I'm self-destructive. And the past few years, I've slowly gotten worse and worse, and I don't care anymore. I simply don't. I care enough about the people around me to not want to die. I don't care enough about myself to ask for any help, but I know I need it. Everything is always just out of my reach. And when I finally do get a hold of it, it never sticks, it falls through my grasp just like everything else has. I was happy once, twice, maybe even three times. But something always happened. The happiness was always brought about by someone else, and I got tired of that person, or I pushed them away because I'm so scared of other people hurting me, or maybe we were just making eachother happy and then they found someone that can satisfy them better than I would ever be able to. That's what hurt the most. Getting replaced. And I know it's hypocritical, because I would only do the same, but it still stings. I wish I could explain my mind to you, what goes on inside when I'm staring blankly and you can't get my attention. More often than not, I'm thinking about how my grades are slipping, and hoping I hid my exam papers well enough that my mother won't find them, or maybe I'm wondering how much I weigh, whether I should eat at lunch or not. I constantly question myself, try and justify what I am, what I'm doing, even what other people are doing. And there's always a catch, I always put myself down, like I'm not important enough to be bothered with and that's the reason I'm being ignored, when I'm simply not doing anything to garner any attention for myself."
So, this was going to be something, I think. Or maybe it was just me trying to escape my own head when I had no internet connection. I don't like reading over things I've written that I put too much emotion into, so I haven't even looked at this since I typed it originally. I'm not even sure why I saved it, but I did. But yeah, exagerated angst.
***
“Papa! Papa!” The little boy called as he ran towards his father through the thick snow.
Wrote this last year, at the same time I did 'Through the Fairytale'. It was going to be my alternative thing to hand in, because apparently I like having options, but that's all I really got down. I think the general idea was that this little boy had been lost or something. They were in Russia or England, one of those cold, snowy places. It was a really cute picture, I just never got around to doing anything further because I liked 'Through the Fairytale', which turned out to be a good thing, because I got like, an A+ for it.
***
The kiss deepened as Jackson pushed Christine more forcefully against the wall. Her hands wound through his soft hair and pulled sharply as she bit his lip, her sharpened eyeteeth drawing blood. Jackson gasped and gripped her arse tighter, pulling her against his erection as he trailed his bleeding lips across her jaw and down her neck to latch onto her prominant collarbone. She threw her head back and it hit the wall, thudding. The hall was filled with the harsh sounds of passion. Moans, the scratch of denim against denim, silk caught on rough brick. Christine's left hand let go of Jackson's hair and trailed down his chest, teasing the buttons on his shirt open and scratching the exposed skin with her sharp nails, her other hand held his head to her collar as he bit and sucked and licked, the skin beneath his lips turning a vivid red contrasted the her otherwise pale complexion. When all the buttons were undone her fingers danced their way back up Jackson's cheat to tweak his nipples. He bit down hard on Christine's collarbone and she gasped loudly, grinding herself against him. She isn't the type of girl you take home to meet your parents.
The tables turned as Christine's hand snuck into Jackson's pants, cupping his stiff erection.
I had plans for this. I still have plans for this. But I have no idea how to write it in actual fic. So I'll just tell you now; Christine somehow gets him turned around or against the wall on the other side of the hallway, and then gives him a blowjob. Then the POV kind of switches, and there's a nurse coming through a doorway, and seeing his patient leaning against the wall, dick in hand, and he goes over to him, and it basically finishes with the nurse saying, "She's gone, Jackson." Subplot being that Jackson is in a hospital, mental hospital maybe, after losing Christine, and his mind basically, he's traumatised and keeps thinking that she's still there when she isn't.
***
The stage was dark and I was being pushed in on from all sides, sweaty bodies pressed against my own. We'd been here for hours. We'd seen the supporting acts. We wanted them. The air was tense, humid, thick with anticipation. I couldn't move if I tried, it was hard just to breathe, the space was so cramped. At least a hundred people in a space not meant for that many. But it was exhilarating. The itch, the touch, the rush. I glanced sideways at my friend, first at our tightly joined hands, and then up at her face, grinning widely. This was going to be amazing. The sound, before the band even came on stage, just the fans screaming widely, was droned out to static by this stage. But it only took one person to start a chant. A call for the band to come out already. Soon the whole arena was alive with it. The atmosphere literally buzzing with excitement.
We could see the roadies walking around, making a final check of the equipment, and then they were gone. The stage was void of life, it got darker, but I could just make out figures moving back on, taking positions, behind the drumkit, in front of the mic. The crowd errupted, but it wasn't until the first notes of the song, that things really went crazy. Fire. Balls of fire shooting up from the stage, superheating the room in a burst of light. This combined with the bands appearance meant that the crowd had surged into motion, jumping screaming and pushing.
But we never once let go of each other. We were seperated, our hands trapped between other sweaty bodies more than once, but she pulled me through, every time.
This started out after I went to some generic gig at the City Hall with Mo and her cousin, and I thought up this line, which I'll post next because I don't think it actually ended up in there, and then it kind of turned into a sort of recount of when we went and saw My Chemical Romance.
***
You can feel the beat echo through your body. Veins pulsing to the vibrations of the guitar strings.
'To the pulse of the bass drum' is probably more acurate than guitar strings, because it's heavier, but I like this line. It won't ever go anywhere, I don't think.
***
In the end, humans are a part of nature,
and like nature,
we need sunlight,
and fresh air.
without these, we perish.
food and water and nutrients
are all well and good,
but sunlight is vital.
four walls and a door is all i have,
have had for days,
weeks.
unsure if i shall ever see the light again,
i conjour my faded images, now
bright again, and drift.
and if i'm not here tomorrow,
it won't matter.
this will still be in my mind.
We had to write something about nature, I think, and I was going for the point of view of a prison inmate who was in solitary and only had his memories of what nature was like. He ended up dying in the end, but I never got to use the work anyway, because I wasn't focusing on the right things.
***
"youre a real jerk sometimes, you know?"
"you love me." he smiles
i sigh because he's right.
"you'll kill yourself with those one day."
he takes another drag and
hands the half-smoked cigarette to me.
lips on skin
and skin on lips
sighs and moans
and touches in all the right places
"i shouldn't want you like this"
ecstacy.
"you can't just leave!"
he screams as i walk out the door.
it doesn’t matter,
he know's i'll be back tomorrow.
cigarette smoke curls from rouged lips
"i can't do this anymore,"
she sighs resignedly and takes another drag.
"all i have is words and you don't want to listen."
tears are running down my face
and he's the one walking away now.
darkness glows around light
sense is fractured by the smoke.
i find his hand and it squeezes mine tight.
a building burns around us.
we’ll be together;
forever.
This.. I don't even know what this is. I wanted to turn it into something real, I think, but it never happened. I think the point still gets across though.
***
Apparently that's it.
"Clearly you have no idea how much it pains me to get through each day. The struggle to eat, to smile, to talk. I feel like a puppet, but no ones pulling my strings, I have to do all that myself. Just getting out of bed is difficult, waking from a sleepless night to walk through the day, barely living. You've no idea what it's like. And you won't ever. Because you simply have no desire to. You don't want to know what it's like to forget to breathe, to go to eat and find all food makes you physically ill just by looking at it. To pretend to be happy is to deny yourself freedom, the freedom to just exist. And when you don't know who you are anymore, it gets hard to even just exist, so you have to fake that happiness so that everyone else believes you're still around, even you don't. I go through the days in a daze, I don't know the date, or whether it's Monday or Friday. I just know that I'm still alive by some cruel twist of fate. But the thing is, I don't want to kill myself. I'm not suicidal. I'm self-destructive. And the past few years, I've slowly gotten worse and worse, and I don't care anymore. I simply don't. I care enough about the people around me to not want to die. I don't care enough about myself to ask for any help, but I know I need it. Everything is always just out of my reach. And when I finally do get a hold of it, it never sticks, it falls through my grasp just like everything else has. I was happy once, twice, maybe even three times. But something always happened. The happiness was always brought about by someone else, and I got tired of that person, or I pushed them away because I'm so scared of other people hurting me, or maybe we were just making eachother happy and then they found someone that can satisfy them better than I would ever be able to. That's what hurt the most. Getting replaced. And I know it's hypocritical, because I would only do the same, but it still stings. I wish I could explain my mind to you, what goes on inside when I'm staring blankly and you can't get my attention. More often than not, I'm thinking about how my grades are slipping, and hoping I hid my exam papers well enough that my mother won't find them, or maybe I'm wondering how much I weigh, whether I should eat at lunch or not. I constantly question myself, try and justify what I am, what I'm doing, even what other people are doing. And there's always a catch, I always put myself down, like I'm not important enough to be bothered with and that's the reason I'm being ignored, when I'm simply not doing anything to garner any attention for myself."
So, this was going to be something, I think. Or maybe it was just me trying to escape my own head when I had no internet connection. I don't like reading over things I've written that I put too much emotion into, so I haven't even looked at this since I typed it originally. I'm not even sure why I saved it, but I did. But yeah, exagerated angst.
***
“Papa! Papa!” The little boy called as he ran towards his father through the thick snow.
Wrote this last year, at the same time I did 'Through the Fairytale'. It was going to be my alternative thing to hand in, because apparently I like having options, but that's all I really got down. I think the general idea was that this little boy had been lost or something. They were in Russia or England, one of those cold, snowy places. It was a really cute picture, I just never got around to doing anything further because I liked 'Through the Fairytale', which turned out to be a good thing, because I got like, an A+ for it.
***
The kiss deepened as Jackson pushed Christine more forcefully against the wall. Her hands wound through his soft hair and pulled sharply as she bit his lip, her sharpened eyeteeth drawing blood. Jackson gasped and gripped her arse tighter, pulling her against his erection as he trailed his bleeding lips across her jaw and down her neck to latch onto her prominant collarbone. She threw her head back and it hit the wall, thudding. The hall was filled with the harsh sounds of passion. Moans, the scratch of denim against denim, silk caught on rough brick. Christine's left hand let go of Jackson's hair and trailed down his chest, teasing the buttons on his shirt open and scratching the exposed skin with her sharp nails, her other hand held his head to her collar as he bit and sucked and licked, the skin beneath his lips turning a vivid red contrasted the her otherwise pale complexion. When all the buttons were undone her fingers danced their way back up Jackson's cheat to tweak his nipples. He bit down hard on Christine's collarbone and she gasped loudly, grinding herself against him. She isn't the type of girl you take home to meet your parents.
The tables turned as Christine's hand snuck into Jackson's pants, cupping his stiff erection.
I had plans for this. I still have plans for this. But I have no idea how to write it in actual fic. So I'll just tell you now; Christine somehow gets him turned around or against the wall on the other side of the hallway, and then gives him a blowjob. Then the POV kind of switches, and there's a nurse coming through a doorway, and seeing his patient leaning against the wall, dick in hand, and he goes over to him, and it basically finishes with the nurse saying, "She's gone, Jackson." Subplot being that Jackson is in a hospital, mental hospital maybe, after losing Christine, and his mind basically, he's traumatised and keeps thinking that she's still there when she isn't.
***
The stage was dark and I was being pushed in on from all sides, sweaty bodies pressed against my own. We'd been here for hours. We'd seen the supporting acts. We wanted them. The air was tense, humid, thick with anticipation. I couldn't move if I tried, it was hard just to breathe, the space was so cramped. At least a hundred people in a space not meant for that many. But it was exhilarating. The itch, the touch, the rush. I glanced sideways at my friend, first at our tightly joined hands, and then up at her face, grinning widely. This was going to be amazing. The sound, before the band even came on stage, just the fans screaming widely, was droned out to static by this stage. But it only took one person to start a chant. A call for the band to come out already. Soon the whole arena was alive with it. The atmosphere literally buzzing with excitement.
We could see the roadies walking around, making a final check of the equipment, and then they were gone. The stage was void of life, it got darker, but I could just make out figures moving back on, taking positions, behind the drumkit, in front of the mic. The crowd errupted, but it wasn't until the first notes of the song, that things really went crazy. Fire. Balls of fire shooting up from the stage, superheating the room in a burst of light. This combined with the bands appearance meant that the crowd had surged into motion, jumping screaming and pushing.
But we never once let go of each other. We were seperated, our hands trapped between other sweaty bodies more than once, but she pulled me through, every time.
This started out after I went to some generic gig at the City Hall with Mo and her cousin, and I thought up this line, which I'll post next because I don't think it actually ended up in there, and then it kind of turned into a sort of recount of when we went and saw My Chemical Romance.
***
You can feel the beat echo through your body. Veins pulsing to the vibrations of the guitar strings.
'To the pulse of the bass drum' is probably more acurate than guitar strings, because it's heavier, but I like this line. It won't ever go anywhere, I don't think.
***
In the end, humans are a part of nature,
and like nature,
we need sunlight,
and fresh air.
without these, we perish.
food and water and nutrients
are all well and good,
but sunlight is vital.
four walls and a door is all i have,
have had for days,
weeks.
unsure if i shall ever see the light again,
i conjour my faded images, now
bright again, and drift.
and if i'm not here tomorrow,
it won't matter.
this will still be in my mind.
We had to write something about nature, I think, and I was going for the point of view of a prison inmate who was in solitary and only had his memories of what nature was like. He ended up dying in the end, but I never got to use the work anyway, because I wasn't focusing on the right things.
***
"youre a real jerk sometimes, you know?"
"you love me." he smiles
i sigh because he's right.
"you'll kill yourself with those one day."
he takes another drag and
hands the half-smoked cigarette to me.
lips on skin
and skin on lips
sighs and moans
and touches in all the right places
"i shouldn't want you like this"
ecstacy.
"you can't just leave!"
he screams as i walk out the door.
it doesn’t matter,
he know's i'll be back tomorrow.
cigarette smoke curls from rouged lips
"i can't do this anymore,"
she sighs resignedly and takes another drag.
"all i have is words and you don't want to listen."
tears are running down my face
and he's the one walking away now.
darkness glows around light
sense is fractured by the smoke.
i find his hand and it squeezes mine tight.
a building burns around us.
we’ll be together;
forever.
This.. I don't even know what this is. I wanted to turn it into something real, I think, but it never happened. I think the point still gets across though.
***
Apparently that's it.