javelin wright / one. fin

🌱 kaitlin. Graphics 2,686 POSTS Pronouns: she/her last seen Apr 27, 2024 21:52:54 GMT -5 aspiring beam of light	javelin wright / one. fin Mar 23, 2020 11:01:49 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by 🌱 kaitlin. on Mar 23, 2020 11:01:49 GMT -5 javelin wright eighteen \| district 1 career ✦ ❛ LOVE IS A GOD. HE PAYS YOU A VISIT OR HE DOESN'T. ❜
	Last Edit: Jan 3, 2021 20:15:12 GMT -5 by 🌱 kaitlin. what are men to rocks and mountains? a haunted house.

🌱 kaitlin.
Graphics

2,686 POSTS

Pronouns: she/her
last seen Apr 27, 2024 21:52:54 GMT -5

aspiring beam of light

javelin wright / one. fin Mar 23, 2020 11:26:15 GMT -5

Quote

Post by 🌱 kaitlin. on Mar 23, 2020 11:26:15 GMT -5

cw drug abuse

TELL ME HOW ALL THIS, AND LOVE TOO, WILL RUIN US.

I was always real adventurous as a kid.

Most people, when they hear that, they assume that it's because I had an over-active imagination, assume that I was one of those kids who ran around our back yard inventing stories, tall tales that I would rope my friends into playing along with. And, I mean, that's true to a certain extent I guess, but it's not really what I mean. Maybe that would have been true if I grew up some other way, if maybe I had lived in the same house my whole life, but I didn't.

What I mean is, I bounced around a lot.

I had four siblings. Well, I guess I have four siblings, but I don't really see any of them that often anymore. I'm trying to get the system to let my younger brother and sister live here now that I'm sober and have a little bit of income of my own, but both of them are placed with families on the other side of the district, so I'm not sure what's going to come of that. I had two older brothers, but one of them died from an overdose a year or so ago, and the other one wants more or less nothing to do with me. To be fair to him, he went through all this addiction shit with mom and AJ even more than I ever had to, so I don't blame him for cutting me off when I went down the same path.

Pyre and the twins had the same dad, but me and AJ both had different ones from them. Pyre told me once that mine was Mom's pimp.

I punched him in the face for that.

I was twelve, so it probably didn't hurt as much as it would if I hit him now, but for what my skinny limbs lacked in strength, they probably made up for with anger.

When Mom went to jail the first time, he was the one who took care of all of us. He had only just turned nineteen, and I was maybe nine or ten, I think? I'm not sure how she managed to stay out for so long, to be perfectly honest. But anyway, that was the first year I really started being adventurous, mostly because I had to be. Pyre wasn't much good at taking care of us though, so we'd bounce between extended family's houses, in and out of the system. I'd drag my bike from house to house, and I'd bike as far as I had to just to be able to see my friends. After a year or two, me and all my friends would bundle up a bunch of snacks, and try to get weed or whatever, and go smoke it in fields or abandoned lots, imagining that they were different places for richer people with bigger dreams than any of ours. I started hanging around AJ, following him to parties that I was too young for, never even realizing that drugs were bad for him, that they were bad for me.

I'd look at my uncle Sean with all his teeth yellowed or missing, and it wouldn't even register to me that it was because he'd been doing drugs all his life. I knew, rationally, somewhere, had learned it in school or something, that Drugs Are Bad. But everyone in my family, all the people around me in that neglected part of District One, they were all on drugs for my entire life. I looked at Uncle Sean and just thought "Oh shit, that guy has no teeth. Wicked."

Then I'd laugh and go do a line, and not figure it out til my stomach lining was fucked and I didn't remember how to eat.

It's always weird explaining to people why I eat the way that I do, all plain like. I remember this one interviewer came to me once, wanted to interview me for her magazine, do a piece on me and my music. I signed a record deal with this agency a few months after AJ died, which was weird timing, but it gave me something to focus on while I was still in the process of figuring out how to get clean. Apparently, people like my music enough to pay me for it. Anyway, the lady seemed to like my honesty in the moment, but maybe her boss wasn't the biggest fan of it or something because she sent me a letter a few months back saying that they decided not to run the story. It didn't make much of a difference to me whether she ran her piece or not—my story is still my story, published or not.

But anyway, I had been sitting with her on the front porch, kinda sorta playing around on my guitar, but it was mostly just something to do with my hands. She had been asking me questions when Scooter came out my front door, a plate of chopped up chicken breast in his hand.

"You hungry?" he'd asked.

"I ate already but," I started, and then half-shrugged, wrapped around my guitar. "I could eat."

He put the plate beside me, but he didn't stay, just left it next to me and left the interviewer lady get back to asking me questions. She'd look at my plate of plain, breaded chicken with curious eyes, so I'd just answered her questions before she could get to them. After all, I'm not ashamed of where I came from, not ashamed of those things that have gotten me to where I am.

"I eat pretty plain, most of the time," I said, strumming at my guitar still. The chords were basic, melodic, nothing new and original, but they calmed the whole room. "My stomach is pretty fucked up. I used to do a lot of drugs, and between them and constantly forgetting that I needed to eat because of them, I pretty much ruined my stomach lining." I remember looking up from my guitar, staring at the woman interviewing me. I wasn't trying to dare her to react, I swear, but I think that maybe she thought I must have been because she was sitting there stock-still, as if I was a skittish animal that might snap at any moment.

I remember chuckling, shaking my head.

"Scootie—he's been with me through it all." I looked up to the front door wistfully, thoughtfully, remembering every time he took care of me. "I don't know how he's managed it, but I'd probably be dead without him."

That wasn't true, not really; I knew exactly how he managed it, and it was because he'd been keeping himself alive since he was a kid. His dad died in some kind of drug-related crime when Scooter was really young, and his mom was always busy working, so the kid was left to fend for himself. It was starve or survive, and he chose survive.

I'm working on the same.

THESE, OUR BODIES,
POSESSED BY THE LIGHT.

Last Edit: Mar 23, 2020 14:01:39 GMT -5 by 🌱 kaitlin.

what are men to rocks and mountains?

a haunted house.

🌱 kaitlin. Graphics 2,686 POSTS Pronouns: she/her last seen Apr 27, 2024 21:52:54 GMT -5 aspiring beam of light	javelin wright / one. fin Mar 23, 2020 14:01:11 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by 🌱 kaitlin. on Mar 23, 2020 14:01:11 GMT -5 don't do drugs ripred_bot
	what are men to rocks and mountains? a haunted house.

ryan Advertiser 2,907 POSTS Pronouns: he/him Member is Online over the moon, where all the wild things are	javelin wright / one. fin Mar 23, 2020 16:33:03 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by ryan on Mar 23, 2020 16:33:03 GMT -5 Such a gritty boi. I love him. <3 <3 xoxo accepted