We play a dangerous game, him and I. It’s a game without ties, where every impasse is shattered by a sudden, devastating jab or hidden truth. It ends in tears, silences, angry screams. Never laughter, except the self-deprecating kind.
Yet I keep coming back, and so does he. We get caught in this dance for demons, the fire to our own timber. And every time I walk away, saying never again, I think I mean it.
I never do.
I automatically walked towards the front where I could see and learn the best and sat down. On the way, I glanced down at Micah’s desk and nearly fell over.
Turned out that the notes Micah had been so focused on were actually detailed drawings of a stick figure getting eaten by a shark.
Unbelievable.
It’s been pretty easy getting back into the groove of writing Woes, but with this work in particular, it’s so easy to confuse characters. For example, Micah and Sebastian are at the surface extremely similar, with the same passion for playing and succeeding, with spurts of spontaneity. However, where Sebastian is more easy-going and almost bubbly, Micah has a quiet intensity to him, and almost everything he does is according to some internal agenda. Winning comes naturally to him, whereas Ash still glories in every victory. Ash wants to change the world. Micah wants to push it onto its knees.
the world is big, and at the edge is a glowing light. it pulses sweetly, thrumming. it is alive. and you are on the edge, in the darkness. balancing on the border, bouncing on the balls of your feet. wishing, hoping, praying.
the light beckons, it flares, it dances. but then to reach it, you would have to release the grip you have on the earth and try to fly.
and if you don’t fly, you fall.
so you fold your bright silver wings and sit down on the top of the highest skyscraper. and you look at the light, watching as it dims and dies.
“Did you just tell me you feel like a kumquat?”
“Did you hear me tell you that I feel like a kumquat?”
“Well, yes—”
“Then why ask me a question like that? Are you questioning what you heard? I know your senses aren’t trustworthy, but doubting yourself is going to get you nowhere.”
He exhaled slowly. “You make it really hard not to want to throttle you.”
Throttle me as opposed to writing love poetry and saying maudlin things about my eyes. Well, it was a start.
Gleam is a story I hold close because I haven’t really shared it with anyone. It’s also the first thing I ever religiously outlined. I have all the characters’ personalities and the plot planned out in a separate document from the one I’m writing the story on, and I think this story is much more focused than my others. Therefore, if someone even tries to take it away from me, I will exterminate them.
Wind.
Rippling, howling, screaming, tearing.
My soul from my body.
The love from my heart.
It broke me,
Every slashwhiphitboomswish.
It left purple reminders imprinted
In skin he called white and tender.
He forgot already.
I don’t think I ever will.
His footsteps have melted away
Erased by sand stained red.
But I’m still here.
My hands are clasped to the sky,
My eyes cannot lift for shame.
My legs are stuck to the ground
My heart takes all the blame.
And I beg the hail
To pound the pain from my mind.
Crush the memories into bitter pieces
That I can step over.
Don’t tell him to pick them up again.
He’d laugh and ask what was left.
And if that affection ever returned
The world will be set alight.
The fire of reckoning will damn me
For the choices I have made.
Our eyes will blister and burn.
Our skin will fall away like decayed plaster.
Our bones clack together in charred harmony.
Our muscles sting under poisonous skies.
Watch me.
See these eyes?
These bottomless eyes?
They’re from him.
Sapped, robbed, beaten.
Because I was sososo wretched.
Who am I but a bitter skeleton?
Let the elements thrash me, bash me,
clash together to drown me.
What is there to lose,
when I have nothing at all?
I finally finished this dumbass fourteenth chapter, and I wish I could breathe. But I can’t because I have to get to Chapter 15 right away if I want to stick to my schedule.
Thursday: Essay, two tests for two classes that I’m not doing so swell in.
Translation:
arbitrarypastasauce replied to your post: I’m getting really confused by my multiple accounts…
oh god what are these acronyms
EIN=Everything I Need (story, first of Artists series)
GMD=Give Me Defiance (story, second of Artists series)
UWG=Until We Go (story, third of Artists series)
Reex=Reexamination (story)
HHNF=Hell Hath No Fury (story)
MMC=Male Main Character
MC=Main Character
I hope this helps LOL
Anyway, an update on my writing:
Reex: Writer’s block, big time. This is worrying me, since I’m only on the second chapter. I think it’s because I don’t read enough horror. I just don’t know what HAPPENS in between the exposition and the climax. I just… Crap.
EIN: Still churning out pages of this sucker. Somehow, it took a legal turn o_O My MC is now being accused of plagiarism, the MMC is gone reconciling himself with familial issues, and everything has been shot to hell. Yaaay.
HHNF: I pretty much gave up on this after all the criticism leveled towards it >< But a lot of people want to keep reading, so I’m doing it for them D: It’s just taking me forever to update.
UWG: Prologue written! Also, plot has been figured out in my head. Sort of.
GMD: I had this planned a long time ago. I’m really looking forward to getting EIN done so I can get started on this one, then UWG will come after. Or maybe I’ll have both going on at the same time… But I also want to post Reex soon, and I can’t have too many ongoing projects.
oh, the horror >_> i’m lacking inspiration in the parts that matter.
