Just another {n a m e} -Tom
Feb 9, 2014 21:18:52 GMT -5
Post by [nyte] on Feb 9, 2014 21:18:52 GMT -5
•A r c u s•
Does - "Says "- Hears - Thinks
Does - "Says "- Hears - Thinks
White linen falls over my head, it hugs my chest floating gently about my waist. A playful twirl sends it spiraling around my back, causing a giggle bubble deep within my chest. A cocky grin plays across my lips as my bare legs rest against a windowsill. The sunlight spreads across the rooftops, dancing with the shadows lay in their wake. A moment of mesmerized admiration is soon replaced by the rustling of draws. Black sweats are soon drawn to my waist, tied tightly to avoid any embarrassing moments that may befall me in the future.
And for a second, it feels as though my heart has been stopped. A hand has penetrated my chest, it's fingers closing around the delicate muscle and ripping it from the body which so desperately needed it. My knees collapse beneath me, my back sliding against the closed door. My head throbs and pounds, enticing tears from my eyes. I'm choking, unable to breath without my heart's steady beating in my chest.
You are worthless. The thoughts attack me, broken over my head like a vase. Nothing but a face lost within a crowd. Unimportant. The only person who gave a single fuck about you is in the ground. And even she didn't want you. As you weren't branded with the same name as her. Arcus the Nothing. (Shut up) Arcus the unwanted. (Shut up) Arcus the failure. (Shut up!) My fist connects with the door. Wood splintering beneath my fingers. Digging into my skin and releasing the crimson beneath.
A swear escapes me, as fingers carefully picking out the shrapnel of my explosion. And almost as suddenly as I had been overwhelmed, it was gone. My heart once again beating within it's cage, like a good little bird who sung on command. Standing once more, I slip on shoes with large, broad heels. They send a rhythm down the wooded hall as I make my way to the bathroom. My cousins have yet to awake, often sleeping in until the late afternoon. I do all I can to push the attack that had just overwhelmed me. The unhealed scars of an abused child breaking through the wall which i had so carefully constructed. Brick, by brick I built myself up once more. Yet nothing could keep that child at bay forever.
What I was sure of, is that girl is not me. A brush rakes through my hair, pulling it into a tight bun atop my head. A black liquid outlines my eyes and a gray powder is applied above them. It's an art, the only art of which I am talented, to paint over one's flaws. To become perfect.
Yet, my passion does not lie within the careful strokes on a fleshy canvas. It is that of control. I am the leader of a pack, and I should be feared. My face, still pale from the little girl's latest attack, is adorned with a halfhearted smile. Be perfect. Be perfect Ever Arcus.
And perfect I am. Ignoring her tugging deep within my subconscious, trying to tell me of my imperfections. I push any doubt help within me behind the wall I had created. And I am perfect.
OTHER
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Words: 536
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