adan finch -- district nine -- fin

ᴥ Head RP Tutor 4,546 POSTS Pronouns: he/him last seen Apr 19, 2024 16:45:35 GMT -5 oof	adan finch -- district nine -- fin Jan 8, 2018 12:18:29 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by ᴥ on Jan 8, 2018 12:18:29 GMT -5 hes gay fyi
	Last Edit: Jan 11, 2018 18:31:21 GMT -5 by ᴥ the m o o n controls the t i d e, it could cause you to d r o w n

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adan finch -- district nine -- fin Jan 9, 2018 16:32:00 GMT -5

Quote

Post by ᴥ on Jan 9, 2018 16:32:00 GMT -5

ADAN FINCH

Their smiles smell like pity. The apathetic kind that pacifies some kind of abject humanity. Hey, at least they acknowledged his existence right? Small kid, draped in rags. Tremors coursing through hollow bones and he has been hungry for far too long but at least you goddamned smiled at the dying kid. The kind of smile that never reaches their eyes, that feigns empathy where there is only disgust and, though it is not my fault I'm laced in grime, it is my burden to bear.

Some drop money. Coins into a paper cup nestled just between my feet. Some clutch their purses to their chest- ensuring that I will not rise from the grips of my famine to take their precious wealth. It's hard not to grow bitter in the face of abandonment. Perhaps I have become as disgusted with society as they have me, head rested upon dust ridden pillows in shelters that take to closing down every other week.

But at least it's a goddamn bed. Feeble sheets drawn over shaking frames and I am not one for friends. I seek no company from those with eyes as dead as me, we shuffle in and out of purgatory with clenched fists and it takes to much energy to open swollen lips. Weeks on end without coaxing out a single phrase, throat left raw and cracked when I do. It's not a life worth living, but I cling to it anyway.

Sleep does not always come easily. Bright smiles, climbing to the top of steep mountains stain my muscles with energy Reckless anxiety, destruction drilling holes into eyes squeezed shut and sometimes I cannot remember where I am. Lost in the waves of an ocean. I have never known its constant ebb and flow but it stains my memory with sluggish fog.

There are bars. I'm small of stature, sure, face stained with the youth that is all I possess but innocence is synonymous only with privilege around these parts. We've all seen too much, enough to need bitter water forced down angry throats. They don't ask how old I am and I do not tell them. They know only that I seek destruction - even though that fact in of itself is lost on me when I find myself crawling through bars at all hours of the night.

Money, carefully saved, is then stuck to the bottom of empty beer bottles. Stereotypical, really, exactly what those with silver spoons expect of me. It feels good to spend their money upon worthless pleasure. Out of control as I am, it feels fucking good. Arms wrapped around stranger's shoulders, singing away the pang of hunger that will haunt me for the next week.

I'm not a drunkard I'm a junkie. Addicted to adrenaline, of reckless behavior that leaves bald patches upon my brain. Mistakes hurt, knuckles pressing angry bruises into calloused skin and as awful as it is- the pain feels good. Out of control, that's what I'd call it if I had any to begin with. I don't make friends, with friends come questions. Companionship forces me to face the very reason I ended up alone. And bitter reality ruins the high.

It's easy, not to stay in one place for too long. I loathe letting the faces become familiar, I loathe the thought of my name belonging to another's lips. I'm not meant to settle down, a moment's rest lets slowness creep into my thoughts. Wrap its hands around my throat and to be dragged into the very pits of despair is perhaps the only fear I have allowed to permeate this thick skull of mine.

Not my fault. It's not my fault I'm the only one who survived. I didn't want to end up like this. Scared child with a home made of ashes. Screams are swallowed up by Teflon silences. Hey, kid, you okay? Peacekeeper knelt down in front of me, bones jumping out of my skin and the smile is foreign. Not used to it. Sober chatter is as toxic as boredom. (Yeah, I'm fine. Sir.) Polite disdain disguised as respect. Caught within a whirlwind of pointless destruction.

I think of nothing more than survival. Beautiful distraction until impulse throws it all into the flames. Swallow them whole, blue and red, hot and angry and I remember a spark but nothing else. The rest has been thrown into dark oceans and I cannot help but wonder

if all of this is my fault, in the end.

Last Edit: Jan 11, 2018 14:52:17 GMT -5 by ᴥ

the m o o n controls the t i d e, it could cause you to d r o w n

ᴥ Head RP Tutor 4,546 POSTS Pronouns: he/him last seen Apr 19, 2024 16:45:35 GMT -5 oof	adan finch -- district nine -- fin Jan 11, 2018 14:52:57 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by ᴥ on Jan 11, 2018 14:52:57 GMT -5 he's gay fyi
	the m o o n controls the t i d e, it could cause you to d r o w n

lance Librarian 3,638 POSTS Pronouns: He/Him/His last seen Apr 20, 2024 4:08:53 GMT -5 gay and chaotic? call it gayos	adan finch -- district nine -- fin Jan 11, 2018 19:51:52 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by lance on Jan 11, 2018 19:51:52 GMT -5 such gay much accept
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