Good ~E n o u g h~ {Mylee}
Dec 26, 2013 15:58:18 GMT -5
Post by maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte] on Dec 26, 2013 15:58:18 GMT -5
Narration
"Speech"
Thought
Other[/center]
Fire burns within me. It's my fuel, what keeps me going. Hungry flames sear through my body, leaving only determination in their wake. It consumes every part of me. I love it.
I've always been a passionate person. Everything I feel is amplified to the extreme. I find this helps me when training, my emotion fueling every single blow. My hand tightening on my club. It's like a part of me as I thrash and dodge. I never use strategy. Who needs form and order when emotion and passion is so much more powerful and raw.
Fury aids me today. I land blows on the training dummy my teeth grit so tight that pain runs up and down my jaw. This only fuels my fire. Sweat burns my eyes. I can barely see. I swing wildly not caring whether my blows actually hit or not.
Fucking
[/color]I've always been a passionate person. Everything I feel is amplified to the extreme. I find this helps me when training, my emotion fueling every single blow. My hand tightening on my club. It's like a part of me as I thrash and dodge. I never use strategy. Who needs form and order when emotion and passion is so much more powerful and raw.
Fury aids me today. I land blows on the training dummy my teeth grit so tight that pain runs up and down my jaw. This only fuels my fire. Sweat burns my eyes. I can barely see. I swing wildly not caring whether my blows actually hit or not.
Fucking
Thuds fill the room. Rapid hits pepper the dummy.
BITCH[/color]
I scream. Rage and frustration escaping me in a single desperate cry. I throw the club against the wall, my back falling against another. I bury my head in my hands, sliding to the floor. I'm crying, wetness falling from my eyes, mixing with the sweat that lay on my cheeks. I try not to care. I don't want to. But how could I not? She's my mother for fucks sake. She drives father to drink and me to near madness.
And she sits there, wringing her hands and muttering. Fathers no better, drinking his life away. I hate them both for not being there for me. And it's only getting worse.
How can they not care? How can no one care?
I get up, leaving the club forgotten on the gym floor. I keep my head down, hiding the tears still falling from the tip of my slender nose. I just want to prove myself. To make up for everything they are and have made me. I just want to be good enough.
At least this day can't get any worse[/color]
I muse as I make my way through District One.[/center][/size]