My Shizzieshiztastic Shix

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My Shizzieshiztastic Shix
Topic Started: Jan 18 2007, 08:31 PM (211 Views)
Blaise	Jan 18 2007, 08:31 PM Post #1
Freezing Posts: 6 Group: Members Member #28 Joined: January 17, 2007	Alright, so I couldn't figure out which one to post, so I decided to post five of my little "ficlets" if you will. Feel free to comment! -------------------------------------- White Roses You said to me, "The hardest part of this is leaving you. I know baby, I know it's hard, but please, stay strong. You know I love you and that i will come back. We'll be together by Christmas. I swear." You fucking liar. Christmas has come and gone and we're heading into December again. Into the cold, the ice shattering our bones and slitting our wrists. Believe me, baby, I've tried, but it never goes deep enough. The letter came a year ago today. December 21st. The letter that drove me over the edge and off of a bridge. The goverment letter that told me that you were dead. That you died because you saved someone else's fucking life. They shot in in the back of your head twice. I didn't go to your funeral. I ignored the roses your sister sent me. They were white, in all their purity, your favorite. You always loved them. I didn't leave my -our- apartment much over the next few months. I spent most of my time staring out the window, hugging my knees, dead to the world. If I said your death crushed me, I would be lying. It smothered me. All of my hopes and dreams were ripped out from under me. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think. I couldn't eat or sleep. Life would never be the same for me. I visited your grave every single fucking night, staying until they kicked me out. Then I would walk home. Wet, muddy, and grassy. It was on one of these walks that I met someone.I met someone who made me forget about you, Brian. His name was Zachary. He was gorgeous, but not as beautiful as you. No one could ever be. We had been dating for about two months when I found out he was cheating on me. Brian, you would be proud of me for dumping his ass. I chucked his clothes out of my -our- apartment window. Then your birthday came around. June 23. I tried to kill myself on that dat. Unfortunately, your sister let herself in and found me on the bathroom floor. I was hospitalized for a few weeeks and was scheduled to see a therapist but I blew him off. He must of called your fucking sister, who came to see me twice a day every day for a week. Then she stopped. Brian, it's so hard to live without you. I miss you so much, I can't bear it. I could give anything to have you back with me. My heart's broken and nothing can heal it. But you. Your sister came by agin and took me to the doctor. He did some tests. Turns out, I've got cancer. Lung cancer. Needless to say, I was thrilled. The opposite reaction of the usual one. I started laughing and then had to be helped up from the floor once I fell over. The doctor told me I had five months to live. He then asked if I wanted to start chemo and radiation. I said no. I was going to die. I was estatic. My time is running out now. It's December. I coughed all the way down to the cemetery, where I am now. It's cold next to your grave, where I am laying in the snow. Too cold and it's beginning to get to me. I start to shake, violent coughs racking my whole body. The snow is splattered with blood. My blood. I lay back down, feeling my eyes start to close and my heart beat slowing. it's all fading to black, and I'm dying next to you, in a field of endless white. Pure. Like the roses that you once loved. I love you, Brian. This is the end. ---------------------------------------- Perfection You moved against the skin of his neck, where pale, almost like coffee with an abundance of milk in it, skin stretched over a prominent collarbone. Flicking out your tongue to lick it slightly, he gave a shudder. You smirked when you felt the reaction of the boy beneath you. Choosing to provoke him a little bit more, you lips formed the words, "You taste so damn good, Oli babe." He sighed and ran a hand down your back. He was tired, you were tired. It had been a long day, and you two had already exchanged body heat. Nibbling a bit more and a bit harder, your deliciously hot boyfriend just yawned. Yawned? You were giving him the most pleasurable hickey of his life, and he was falling asleep. You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked at him, raising an eyebrow. His half-closed eyes met yours and he spoke tiredly, in that delicious accent you just adored. "Ry, can we continue this in the morning? I'm sorry, but love, I'm falling asleep here." Giggling, you rolled on your side next to him. "But, Oli, you taste so good. It's an addiction." "RyRo, what exactly do I taste like?" Oliver questioned you, rolling over to face you, your noses nearly touching. "Like mint chocolate truffle coffee creamer." And before he could respond, you pressed a peck to his pierced lips. He placed his arms around you, and Oliver and yourself fell asleep curled up in one another. You can't mess with perfection when it's sweeter than a Hershey's Bar. Perfection, in this case, is more like a box of assorted Lindor chocolate truffles. ---------------------------------------------------- Fluff You were mine. You made being rejected feel like winning homecoming. Everything you said put a smile on my face. You told me we didn't need them, that we could break out on our own. That we were going to be famous. That we would travel the world with our band. You would put your arms around me and tell me that it was all going to be okay. You were my security blanket, warm and holding me together. Without you, I'd shatter into a million pieces. You would be the only one curious about what I was always writing in my notebooks. The answer was always "Nothing important". You'd insist on seeing my silly little stories or poems, and when I'd finally relent, you'd be ecstatic. You always asked me they were so sad. My reply was that I just couldn't write like that. It wasn't my style. You would furrow your brow and kiss me on the cheek, calling me your sweetheart. Years have passed, and nothing's changed. We're adults now, but still together. We have jobs now, you at Jamba Juice and me at Borders, but we're still as close as ever. Our band never really got off of the ground, but I don't care. This wasn't one of the stories I wrote, where the characters died tragically young or something of the sort. This was better. This was real. This was forever. You told me this as we sat on our couch together, placing a kiss to my forehead. "This, my love, is the definition of happily ever after." ------------------------------------------ You said... You said, you said that you would never, ever leave me. Never. You said that you would always be by my side. You said that not even a pack of rabid, wild boars could could tear me from your embrace. You said you loved me. You said that I was yours and you were mine. You said it all. You never meant a word of it. You lied to me left and right. You took what I had to offer and left. You used me, you abused me. And it never felt so right. Getting hurt never felt so good. Getting hurt never felt so amazing. Bruises and cuts never looked so beautiful. You made broken bones and tainted skin look glamourous. You made me real, you made me complete. And I love you for it. You made it so that I could never be touched by another human being again without the fear of being hurt. You made my confidence shrink to the size of a grain of sand. You made all of my emotions as fragile as glass. You broke me and left my pieces scattered. Thank you so much for everything that you have done. ------------------------------------ Repeat You exit the apartment and scamper down two flights of stairs. Shaking ever so slightly, you take the key from around your neck and insert it into the lock. Pulling the door open, it made a loud creaking sound, and you pull yourself inside. You know he's been waiting for you, he's sitting at the kitchen counter with a beer in one hand and a cigarette between his lips. It's times like these that you know he cares, that he gets worried about you. You see dark circles under his eyes, an indication that he's been up most of the night. Tap, tap, tap. Your flat tennis shoes, so beat up you can't even tell what what kind they are, barely make a sound. Still, he turns around. Setting his beer down and placing the cigarette in the ashtray, he stands up. He holds a hand out expectantly, and you dig a crumpled one hundred dollar bill out of your too-small jeans. You place it in his hand and he frowns, disapointed. In four seconds flat, you're the one who's crumpled on the floor, and he stands above, looking at you. Saying without words that it wasn't enough. You knew it wasn't enough. You knew that last night. You whimper, and manage to stutter out, "Jared, I-I-I'm sorry. I-I tried." Tears leak out of your youthful eyes , spilling across your too-pretty features. His face softens, and he kneels down next to you. He pulls you into his arms, and by now you're sobbing. He whispers in your ear, "I'm sorry, babe. I know, I know. I love you. Sh...it's sorry." He picks your small frame up in his arms and carries you off to bed. You fall asleep with the same hand that hit you stroking your hair softly. You wake up alone. He's gone and it's time to go to work. Get dressed, put on make up, and you're gone. Off to the bar where you work. Off to make more money for him. On the walk over, you tell yourself that he loves you. That even though sometimes his actions and words leave you broken, he still loves you. That he cares. That you're something to him. Somewhere deep down, you know that you're lying to yourself. You just can't accept that right now, so you shake your head and keep walking. You're leaning against the bar, and the bartender asks, "Kid, why are you doing this?" You just stare, and after a moment, you answer. "Because I love him and I want him to be happy." You go home the next morning and he's not waiting for you. No, he's in the next room, drinking. When he hits you, you just stand there. When he knocks you to the cold, linoleum floor, you lie there. When he kicks you in the stomach, you scream as your ribs crack. Still, you need to know why. "B-But you said t-that you l-l-love me." When he's finished with you, it hurts so much to breather, let alone scream or cry out. He looks down at you in contempt, in pure belittlement and he says, "Love is a four letter lie."
	Banner made by Emmie. RIP


Rico_The1	Jan 28 2007, 04:06 PM Post #2
I Run Dis Posts: 142 Group: Admin Member #1 Joined: December 9, 2006	Thats Long
	http://z8.invisionfree.com/TheHotSht/index.php?showtopic=63


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