Forgetting Pain (Chaos)
Aug 12, 2010 23:36:21 GMT -5
Post by sadniss everdeen on Aug 12, 2010 23:36:21 GMT -5
For a moment I'm vaguely surprised at the undeniable anger in her words and realize that not everybody likes my idea of fun. But I can't tell her that the feeling of when your life is about to end makes me feel whole, like I'm not broken and sick and dangerous, and I can finally feel something deep within my soul that was born with a large part missing. Just like I can't tell her why I know she wants to forget, forget the description tacked haphazardly onto a wall; a girl with starry eyes wanted for questioning in the suspicion of a recent string of deaths. And God, I definately can't tell her that I'm the reason the bodies appear, mutilated and torn and defiled in my haste to lose myself to everything, and they think it's her only because she's there to help me pick up the pieces of my heart that I shatter every single time I give in.
So I simply smile, lips laced with amusement and a strange sort of emotion that I can't place everytime she looks at me that makes my heart do strange twisting motions, rising up in my throat to make me say the stupidest things because I want to make her laugh. We are drenched and shivering but so very alive when I sling an arm around her shoulders and guide her to the end of the rock, peering down into the swirling depths.
"Midnight, everytime I'm in water I feel like a drowning cat. Do you honestly think you could teach a cat how to swim?"
Not willing to ask 'how are we supposed to get off this boulder?' I leisurely lay down flat on my stomach, dipping my slender fingers into the abyss and tracing patterns with invisible pencils. There are times like these I wish I was smooth, or romantic or even knowledgable in the ways of humans (girls, more precisely) so that I could tell what she's thinking with a mere glance, but this isn't the movies and I simply stare at her with a faraway look in my eyes.
Ah, the things she does to me.
(OOC: Well, that was deep. I had a sudden bout of inspiration.)
So I simply smile, lips laced with amusement and a strange sort of emotion that I can't place everytime she looks at me that makes my heart do strange twisting motions, rising up in my throat to make me say the stupidest things because I want to make her laugh. We are drenched and shivering but so very alive when I sling an arm around her shoulders and guide her to the end of the rock, peering down into the swirling depths.
"Midnight, everytime I'm in water I feel like a drowning cat. Do you honestly think you could teach a cat how to swim?"
Not willing to ask 'how are we supposed to get off this boulder?' I leisurely lay down flat on my stomach, dipping my slender fingers into the abyss and tracing patterns with invisible pencils. There are times like these I wish I was smooth, or romantic or even knowledgable in the ways of humans (girls, more precisely) so that I could tell what she's thinking with a mere glance, but this isn't the movies and I simply stare at her with a faraway look in my eyes.
Ah, the things she does to me.
(OOC: Well, that was deep. I had a sudden bout of inspiration.)