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 Posted: Wed May 21, 2014 12:47 pm
reminder
i sure ******** do.
His life was a patchwork of sorrow and tragedy, a great deal of it at his own hands. Leslie didn't learn: he repeated the same mistakes again and again, building up a history of "why did you" and "don't" that couldn't be erased.
im worthlɘss and so arɘ you in the grand ******** schɘmɘ of things
its not an insult or crying about it
lifɘ just is until it isnt whɘn we diɘ
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Posted: Wed May 21, 2014 7:08 pm
stolen goods
Knowing better than to pry further (though giving her vague words made her instinctively want to know more right now), she let him be for a few days. In spite of the wait, the reply didn't take long at all--though it required deleting her newest stab at conversation first to replace it, much happier to pursue this topic rather than ask him if he liked gardening.
(Thane snorted at the very thought, but she liked to believe in hidden depths.)astrazilla Text to Leslie:I like some of them too, depending. Did you see the Hunger Games yet? I think you'd like them!
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Posted: Wed May 21, 2014 7:40 pm
exploitation
Nothing happened the first day afterwards. Nor the second. Nor the third. Nor the fourth. Nor the fifth. The crude drawings were still plastered on in bold black sharpie, the photos still strewn where Leslie had let them fall, the drawers still partially left open, the sticky notes still hanging in place, the fridge still empty. Leslie was pretty much in the clear so far in his revenge.
Somewhere in that time span, someone else had discovered Stormy's room was opened and had taken advantage as well. Nevada's bed had clearly been slept in, for one, smelling of beer and sweat. For another, the intruder had pulled out the bottom-most drawer and rifled through the journals there, though it was unclear how much was read and which ones; there had been four in there filled with actual content, while several others had yet to be broken in, all of which had been scrambled from their usual positions.
A hidden box of menthols had been found and was left atop the dressor, currently missing four. There was a page torn from one of her journals partially hidden under the pile of pens the intruder had accidentally tipped over in their disorderly state, and in bold red and repeatedly etched letters, the message read: astrazilla
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Posted: Wed May 21, 2014 8:03 pm
reminder
She didn't want to hear this right now. It was perhaps the worst timing ever to see someone so mired in those thoughts, in familiar words that like vultures descended on her and dug their loathsome beaks into her future carcass more and more often. Leslie's aura had not seemed so bleak at the orientation; bitter, yes, but not this. Now she wondered if there had been a whole flock singling him out, or if he had always been so picked clean--if she could really make him understand, or if she was merely trying to resurrect the dead.
(Not that it would have bothered her if so. Death seemed to enjoy nipping at her heels in every conceivable way.)
Sadness and pain are part of the human experience. But only parts.
Feeling them still makes you human. They're part of the journey that helps you figure out who you are.
It doesn't mean they're all you have to be, though.
Stormy recognized he seemed to have trouble writing and felt twinges of guilt for continuing, but it was at least there was communication. Even if it was only through her curious eyes tracing over the malformed letters and fragmented statements.
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Posted: Sun Jun 22, 2014 2:12 pm
stolen goods He found himself growing furious at the implication, whether she was aware of it or not. Female-centric media just made him mad-- to see girls do the sort of thing he could only dream of doing. It was easier, if it was men: it was what they were supposed to do, out of reach. Leslie knew his brain was messed up. It was why he tried not to think about it. Quote: To: Stormy i dont watch girl s**t i'm not some f*****t
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Posted: Sun Jun 22, 2014 2:13 pm
reminder
Leslie stared down at the words, crumpling the page. But he kept it, without a reply, and put it in the safe place where his money was, in one of the few places Stormy hadn't found.
I dont think ivɘ ɘvɘr fɘlt thɘ othɘr parts.
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