finding my ground {tom}

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lionel estrada d5 ᥫ᭡ kiah
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finding my ground {tom} Oct 13, 2015 8:57:49 GMT -5

Post by lionel estrada d5 ᥫ᭡ kiah on Oct 13, 2015 8:57:49 GMT -5

J e v

Sometimes it takes losing something to really understand how much you cared. I thought I hadn't cared about him much. He was just a guy I met on the beach. A guy who kissed me. A guy who I slowly came to care about- but had I loved him? Is this what it felt like to love? Loving someone has been something that I have never really been good at. Once a long time ago I used to love easily, without fear without pain, but now love was a challenge. I could barely bring myself to care about something let alone love... so why? why did it hurt so much to know that I would never see him again? It hurt so much that sometimes I felt like I couldn't breathe. My breath catching in my throat as I fought the urge to throw my fist into a brick wall. But what hurt the most was the fact that he didn't have to die. He didnt have to go into that arena. He choose to. He chose to die. To leave me behind, believing that no one loved or cared about him. It was harsh. It was sick and it was something that I struggled to forgive and wasn't sure if I would ever be able to forgive.

Closing my eyes for a moment I try to forget the way he had smiled at me all those times. I tried to forget the way his body was covered in blood as he died. I tried to forget the spark in his eyes. I tried to forget the way he looked as he took his last breath. It wasn't fair because he wouldn't feel this way. Once someone told me that death was something that didn't effect the individual, but something that effected everyone else. That dying wasn't meant to hurt the person who was losing their grip on life, but meant to mame and cause excruciating pain for those who love them. Once, a long time ago I wouldn't have believed that person. But today, now I did because Jay would feel nothing of this,he did not know what his death caused others to feel- did he even care as he volunteered his life away?

My eyes open and I push him out from my mind all together. No. No i did not love him. I could not love him, not after what he did. Not after he hurt me like this- maybe once I had loved him. But not now, not because I couldn't find it within myself to forgive him- and maybe that made me a bad person, hell I knew I was a bad person. Shrugging my shoulders I push the bar door open, a small bell chiming as I entered. I was dressed in all black, a leather jacket hugging my toned body and dark jeans. I barely look at the people around me as I head to a corner, ordering a few drinks before slumping down in a stool, shadows covering the features of my face.

Last Edit: Oct 13, 2015 8:58:34 GMT -5 by lionel estrada d5 ᥫ᭡ kiah

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Tom
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finding my ground {tom} Oct 30, 2015 18:14:22 GMT -5

Post by Tom on Oct 30, 2015 18:14:22 GMT -5

Writing Thoughts Says Hears

Death. Death was a very different thing. It was there in every day lives. Death happened quite often from accidents, from murder, from really anything. Ethan knew death now and how it felt. It was his fault. All his fault that Jay Krearns died. It was his fault that Jay Krearns sacrificed himself to save Ethan. It was his fault that Jay Krearns got killed by Jim Deer. Ethan Gallos wasn't a nice guy. He was a monster. He was a monster like Jim. He had Jay go to his death. Ethan was nothing but a bad guy with a family. It was his fault. Life gives you chances at being good and bad and Ethan was bad by far.

The bar was off to the side of the whole district. Ethan went there all the time to drink his sorrows away. His little brother had been pestering him to stop going there, but Ethan can't help himself. The bar was his place to down his problems with a drink of something strong. Strong enough to make him forget the guilt of not going in the games. His life was at stake and he let someone else take their life to save his. Ethan was nothing but a failure. He was a career. He should have accepted it without a thought in his mind, but there was just something wrong about leaving his brother. Jay was a career too. Jay was supposedly a career at least, but he never proved it in the games. Jim got to him too fast.

Ethan walked inside of the bar finally. The bell chiming behind him as he entered the small bar. His eyes watching around the bar. Then they landed on the guy in the corner. The attractive man with long hair. Ethan's mouth became dry. He walked closer to the male as his mouth curved up into a slight smile. Ethan's hands clenched. Ethan wasn't one to give in to attraction.

Ethan approached the long haired male. His voice quiet, "H-Hi, can I take this seat?" Ethan didn't wait for a reply, he just sat down and kept quiet to himself. His thoughts tearing his insides up like he had swallowed broken glass. Which he felt like he should have done already for all of the pain he's caused to people. It's all his fault. A frown formed on his face as he got deeper and deeper into his thoughts.

Ethan looked over to the bartender, who knew exactly what he wanted. A beer to calm his thoughts and to put him in a better place for that moment. The beer came and Ethan began to sip it softly letting the taste fill his mouth. Ethan felt at peace for some reason with a beer in his hand and a nice attractive male on the side next to him. Ethan spoke quietly, "So, Long hair, what brings you here to this bar?" Ethan smiled a little bit. His hands moving to the pockets of the jeans he was wearing. The leather jacket on him keeping his body warm. The light blue t-shirt under keeping his skin covered. Ethan was ready for the day to end with a tipsy night and a nice long conversation with an attractive male. Ethan, why did you let me go... Why did I die... It's all your fault... Ethan flinched for a second at the sound of Jay's voice in his head. Ethan now knew it was going to be a long night if Jay was making an apearance. So much for a good night talking to a attractive stranger.

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lionel estrada d5 ᥫ᭡ kiah
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finding my ground {tom} Dec 28, 2015 1:35:25 GMT -5

Post by lionel estrada d5 ᥫ᭡ kiah on Dec 28, 2015 1:35:25 GMT -5

J e v

Once, a long time ago, I saved a girl.

I saved her. The peacekeeper had stood above her, whip slicing into her skin like a knife when I stepped forwards, placing my body between her and the enforcer of the law. I don't know what had overcome me at the time. Maybe it had been the girls striking beauty, or maybe it had been the fact that her small, weeping body had struck cord deep within me and I had decided at that moment that I would not let them hurt this pathetic excuse of human life... or maybe it had just been the alcohol burning within my veins. That was most likely the reason why I now had the scar to prove it, drawing a deep line into the skin of my forearm.

But I had saved her.

Did that make me a good man? Or a bad one trying to redeem himself? Or just a bad man, selfish man for wanting to save her for myself, and not from the pain, excruciating pain, which had awaited her?

Bad.

I was bad.

I was selfish.

And I liked it.

No.

No I loved it.

Jay would not have. He would have tried to tell me that I was a good person. That I wasn't selfish. That I was rotten. But he would be wrong because now, as I sat here on my own I didn't think about the way I cared about him, I could only think about killing him myself if I was to ever see him again. I thought about the way I would do it. I would strangle him, fingers wrapped so tightly around his neck that I would feel his dying pulse throughout my whole body. And then he would stop breathing. And I would have killed him, I would have been the one to take his life for being pathetic. For being Cruel. For being an asshole.

Maybe I was being cruel.

Lashing out.

But I was angry=

"H-Hi, can I take this seat?" My eyes flash with a cold rage as they slice into the lean figure of the boy who seated himself without a response. There was something about him that was familiar but I couldn't put my finger on it. Maybe it was the way he looked or his nervous speech followed by uneasy actions. My eyes reflect cold hard stone, my lips pulled back into a snarl.

Silence fills the space between us as the bartender busies himself in getting our drinks. No words are uttered from my lips as I pin the boy with a stare as sharp as a knife. What made him think that it was okay to sit there? It must of been my obviously open invitation. How could I be so silly I grumble to myself sarcastically before looking away, my hand snatching up my drink which I down in one go, my throat burning I signal for another.

"So, Long hair, what brings you here to this bar?"

He speaks again. His voice slipping through the hair like an annoying fly that I cannot rid myself off. So instead of ignoring the parasite I confront it. "First of all don't call me long hair. Second of all mind your own business. Third of all take a hike dumbass." As the last words fall from my lips dripping with venom the bartender returns with my drink, which I pick up instantly throwing the toxic substance into the back of my throat without a bat of an eyelid.