get a grip and get out, you're safe

skullonherwrist @ 2009-08-07T20:06:00

2009-08-07T10:12:48Z

i have missed this so much it's ridiculous.

yet i don't miss it, because i finally found the most wonderful distraction from time to think about myself, and he was... wow amazing, he absolutely saved my life for four months, but the last month has been very... difficult.

i wish i still knew how to write stories the way i used to. but i can't. the best i can do is a shitty english piece, because it's specific, so i can think about it properly, and develop from what the teacher had told us.

but my will to make things up by myself has drained away into nothing and i can write maybe a few sentences a month if it's not to do with my own life or homework.

i hate that.
i hate that i can get A's for the things i write when they aren't even real, because i just used the instructions my teacher gave me.

i want myself back again.

i need muse.

Broken, Repairing [3/?]

2009-04-15T07:56:57Z

Title: Broken, Repairing
Author: skullonherwrist

Raiting M?
POV: First, Ryan's
Summary: I can remember being little. I remember how wonderful life was. I remember what love was. I remember. I'll never forget.
Disclaimer: hai, not mine :(
A/N: alright, this chapter is really weird and confusing, because i was in a strange mood when i wrote it... sorry if it makes no sense... it was also going to be really weird anyway, because it's from Ryan's point of view, which immediately means it will be twisted and yeah. let me know if it's TOO confusing though. :P
Previous Chapters: one | two |

Write.

Write something you fuck.

Where have they all gone? All the words.

Bang, bang.

Numbing pain, and why can't I feel anything but his skin?

The taste, it's so beautiful... like a magic I can't control.

But I can't control anything anymore, can I?

Where have I gone, where has it all gone.

Write something.

He's never going to love me. He's never going to tell me he's sorry, that he's just scared for me. He's only going to laugh at my pain and embrace everything so utterly WRONG in my life. These days, everything is wrong. I feel like a child, whining because I got the green lolly instead of the pink one. Like it makes any difference, but to me it does. I want that pink one. That pink one should have been mine.

It's so stupid. I don't even know him. I barely know what to do with him. All I know is that he's lost, lost like me. We could have found our way together... wasn't that the point? From the beginning, didn't I want him to help me? Maybe I denied it. Maybe I lied, to him, to myself, to everyone. But that's what I do, it's how I live. I won't change. I know I won't. But with him I can pretend to change. I can pretend to be happy. He can make me smile for a little bit, but I know it's all going to fall apart in the end. There is never anything happy or fair in this world. And he has to learn that from experience, not from what I can teach him. I'll just give him the experience. He can hate me, but it's fine. It should be fine. If it isn't, I'll do it. I'll say goodbye. We have to at some point.

Stop it. Stop thinking like that.

He will do it... he will. He can. I'm pretty sure he can.

I haven't even mentioned his name.

I won't though. He doesn't deserve it.

Today I locked my door so my father couldn't get in.

He was smashing his fist against it, and I cut at my arm anyway. Because I need that feeling every day, otherwise how do I know if I'm still alive or not.

I feel like leaving to Bren – no, no names...

That boy, that boy's house. I want to go see him. He will apologize, I will tell him I know he didn't mean it, and then we will kiss... or hug... or something.

Yeah, I guess I should do that. But I'm scared to. What if he's not sorry? What if...

Shit, I'm such a fucking pessimist.

It's the tenth of February. Just thought I'd mention that.

In four days it will be valentines day... mum and dad used to take the day off work, and walk with me to school. Then they would go spend the day somewhere beautiful, alone. On a beach, in the middle of the desert, in a garden full of blood red roses... anywhere romantic. To show that they were still in love. They aren't anymore, so they won't, but I wish for a time when we could relive it... we can't though... there's only two opportunities left... they won't do it this year... and next year is the last chance. Then I'll be gone from school and that's that, we're over. We're all over.

I can remember being little. I remember how wonderful life was. I remember what love was.

I remember. I'll never forget.

I wonder what he would do if I told him. I could tell him everything, open up, expand, explain, and then die, because someone else will know my secrets. I don't want that. Not yet.

I don't usually write this much. I must be angry.

I'm angry at myself though. Why do I do this? When I'm writing, I realize how awful it is, and when I'm thinking... it seems amazing.

That's not fair.

I fucking hate how unfair it is.

I want to die.

Soon.

I will soon.

“I don't get you.”

He slams his books down in front of me.

February eleventh. Shit. What am I thinking? What is he thinking, really...

“What's there to get?”

“Everything. Please. Tell me. You know I'm sorry. You know I'm scared. But you also know it's for you, not of you. I can tell when you're lying now. I figured it out.”

His face is determined. He is sure.

Foolish, foolish boy.

“You just said you don't get me. So how have you figured it out? I am a lie. If you know that, you know me. You said you didn't. Now you're twisting with my mind. Trying to get me to open up? I can't, you fucking idiot. I did. I did once, and that's it. You don't know how much I regret showing you, telling you, why can't you just understand that you can't understand? Just accept the fact that I keep myself to myself. I'm not a toy. I don't want to have friends that play with me, that care if I break, that try to fix me. I'm not a fucking toy.”

He doesn't say anything. I can tell he's thinking, thinking too much. I want to write again. Because then I'll see again, I'll see why I might one day love him. Why is he doing this to me? Why? He doesn't even know it... he doesn't even know how amazing he is at torturing my soul. I feel naked. I feel exposed. This is all his fault.

As he opens his mouth to say something, anything, that will ruin me all over again, I raise my arm.

I slap him, hard, with the back of my hand. As it connects with his cheek, he smiles. No. Shit, no, he's realizing.

I am worse then naked. I do not have a skin. My organs are falling all over the floor. Except for my heart, except for my heart and my brain.

He is holding on to them. Nursing them. He is saving them, trying to make them get along. He is ending the war between them.

How? How is he so perfect? That's even more unfair... that's just... cruelty.

“Stop hiding. Stop hiding, please. I'm going to find that picture you mentioned. I'm going to stop thinking, and you know how this will end.”

I look at him. I glare at him. He smirks at me.

“This will end badly, for you, if you don't leave me. Leave, leave, because I am not yours, and you are not mine. I will crush you. And... well... I don't really want to do that.”

He looks into my eyes. He has gorgeous eyes. They are brown, compelling, deep.

I am drowning in them. Get me out.

He leans closer... closer... closer... our lips brush. Fuck magic... this is more... oh wow... oh Jesus, wow...

“Faggots!”

The yell comes from across the room. Shit, we're in the cafeteria.

One of the 'jocks' struts up to us. He grabs Brendon's collar, and lifts him out of his seat.

“Ross is cool,” he states, “but you? We don't like gays around here.”

Jon fucking Walker.

I go for him. One long leg to the top of the table and suddenly I've leaped, I've got my hands around his neck, choking him. He drops Brendon, who immediately gets up and tries to pull me off Jon. I can't let go. Jon falls to his knees, his skin is a distorted color. He's not breathing. He's not dead.

“Someone call nine-one-one!”

That shout wakes me up. I let go of him, and straighten myself out. There are tears pouring down my cheeks, and I feel exhausted. Why did I cry? Why did I do that? What's wrong with me? I need an answer.

So now I'm here. At a police station. Am I? I don't even know. I'm supposed to be somewhere, be something, keep these laws, but really, I don't even know what's going on in my own head.

No, I'm not there. I'm still standing in the cafeteria, with men swarming around me, asking me why. It's all hazy. I can't see properly. Slowly, blackness is clouding my vision. I'm still crying. I feel myself falling. I hear a thud, and my eyes are closed. Is this because of what happened or because I haven't eaten in 4 days?

I feel my heart beating. Faster, faster, faster.

He's not here anymore.

Dad.

He's gone.

I don't know where he went. I want him back. I want him back.

He drinks nowadays. He hasn't stopped since mom left. He's been an empty shell, hitting me, but hurting himself.

He wants me to leave too, so he doesn't feel so empty when he kills himself. He won't be disappointing anyone if everyone he loves has left him. I don't want him to be dead. So I'll stay. For his sake.

I didn't ever write that.

What's happened? Why am I in a hospital? Where is he? Where is Brendon...

YOU KNOW IT WILL ALWAYS JUST BE ME

LET'S GET THESE TEEN HEARTS BEATING FASTER, FASTER

WILL YOU DANCE TO THIS BEAT AND HOLD A LOVER CLOSE?

~~

A/N: yeah, please tell me what you think?
soudntrack downloadable here :)

skullonherwrist @ 2009-04-15T17:31:00

2009-04-15T07:53:39Z

Okay, so it's a soundtrack :D :D :D
So far there are only 4 songs on it, thus I've uploaded them individually, because there will be more later :D:D:D also so you don't have doubles of songs you may have already downloaded ^_^

01 - CAMISADO - Panic! At The Disco
02 - CROOKED TEETH - Death Cab For Cutie
03 - WIDE AWAKE - Making April
04 - LYING IS THE MOST FUN A GIRL CAN HAVE WITHOUT TAKING HER CLOTHES OFF - Panic! At The Disco

tell me if any links die or anything
hope you like this :)

Broken, Repairing [2/?]

2009-03-29T01:46:53Z

Title: Broken, Repairing
Author: skullonherwrist

Raiting M?
POV: First, Brendon's
Summary: I don't know whether I can control myself. I bottle things in, but not when I feel comfortable, and Ryan has won me over. My heart is speaking.
Disclaimer: hai, not mine :(
A/N: sorry for the wait... school is so annoying, and so is writer's block. i wasn't sure about the quality of this chapter but I haven't had the time to improve it much. so i'm really really sorry :(
more stuff at the bottom kk?

“Hey, Brendon,” he calls my name.

I don't know why I turn around, but I do. I look into his eyes and all I see are scars, running up his thin arm.

All I see is imperfect cleverly hidden by those beautiful, honey colored eyes. They are the liars, the cheaters, the schemers, the deceivers.

Why is it that I picture someone perfect just because of them?

“Do you want to come with me to the park?” he asks, his eyes laughing.

I pause.

I don't know how to answer.

I want to go, but I can't trust myself alone with him. I could do something, he could do something, and how can we control things.

I let my tongue speak for me.

“Yes,” it says, and reminds me that that is what I am thinking is right. I'm doing what his story says. I am listening to my heart. Wrong decision, Brendon. Change your mind.

“Good.”

And Ryan Ross smiles. He isn't smiling his usual malicious, terrifying smile. He's smiling like he actually wants my company.

We take the bus home together, not saying anything.

At one point, a boy named William Beckett slips a notebook into Ryan's hands, and mouths 'I love it' before getting off the bus.

I want to ask questions. I want to show that I'm interested. I want to figure him out.

But that's what I'll never be good at. Lying. That's why I can't be perfect. I can't lie. You need to lie to not make mistakes.

“Stop fucking thinking already. It hurts my head.”

“You can't feel it, Ryan Ross. Don't bullshit me.”

It's been a day and I'm feeling a feeling building up already. I'm not scared of him anymore. I'm just scared for him, scared of what he can achieve.

He's right. I need to find a bigger picture.

Maybe I should paint it myself.

But I'd probably fuck it up.

“I'm serious, stop it. I'm in pain right now. Have some compassion.”

I cringe, but obey.

Stop thinking... don't think... get off the bus... walk... no thoughts... don't do it.

“You listened?” Ryan says in disbelief as we sit together on the same grassy patch.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

Ryan smiles again. “I wonder why I feel something for you, you know. I don't get it. Where's the sense. We need it.”

“Feel what?”

He doesn't say anything for a few minutes, and I ask him again. “Feel what?”

“Sing for me, and I'll tell you.”

Should I listen to him... again...?

What the fuck.

I sing for him. To him. He is the only one that can hear.

My mistake

You should never be afraid to cut your losses

Now I know, now I know

It was mine to make

I was putting up a fight for worthless causes

Now I know just to let it go

I pause. I look into Ryan's breathtaking, lying eyes.

“Don't stop,” he whispers, “don't ever stop.”

And that's when I realize, he's not lying to me. And so I continue.

I was dying for our moment to arrive

Now I'm running further just to feel alive

Don't wanna get caught up

Dreaming of your love

cuz when I open my eyes

There's not a shot in this life

I might as well give up

and save all my good luck

for when I've got the extra change

You can move aside cuz now I'm wide awake

Ryan puts a finger to my lips.

“Someone else is listening,” he tells me.

I feel myself blush, and worry bubbles inside me. I only want him to hear me sing, no one else.

A boy and a girl, holding hands appear from behind a corner.

They look at us and the girl smiles.

“Keep going,” she says, and the boy glares and pulls her away.

Ryan laughs. “You should... go on.”

Calling out

You don't even pick it up on nights and weekends

Over and over

Talk about

Not giving up for all the wrongest reasons

Over and over

How was I misled for so much time?

When it's all been said and done I'll be alright

Don't wanna get caught up

Dreaming of your love

cuz when I open my eyes

There's not a shot in this life

I might as well give up

and save all my good luck

for when I've got the extra change

You can move aside cuz now I'm wide awake

But is it getting any better yet?

The word is out that I'm not giving in

and if you're ready by now, well, it's too late to begin

By now I'm singing with more passion then I ever thought I could muster.

I stare into Ryan's shining eyes, and sing softly, sing the truth, but I use different words. I use words in a song, and they may say something else, but I am thinking they should say I love you.

Don't wanna get caught up

Dreaming of your love

cuz when I open my eyes

There's not a shot in this life

I might as well give up

and save all my good luck

for when I've got the extra change

You can move aside cuz now I'm wide awake

“No, keep going,” Ryan demands.

“That's the end of the song. There's nothing left to sing.”

“Damn it.”

I feel a smile blooming on my face. He likes my voice. He likes it. I never thought I was a good singer, but he likes it. I have finally achieved something.

“I'll tell you now,” he says, “I'll tell you, but don't freak out, okay?”

I nod, but I don't know whether I can control myself. I bottle things in, but not when I feel comfortable, and Ryan has won me over. My heart is speaking.

Before he begins, he unzips his hoodie to reveal a white v-neck t-shirt, and god, it looks really sexy on him.

I never actually considered whether I was gay or bi or just straight. My parents wouldn't let me date, so there wasn't any problems. But now I think. Who could I possibly want more then this beautiful boy sitting opposite me? He might be screwed in the head, but I want to fix him. Mend those scars, that disturbed mind.

Someone has to, it might as well be me.

“A part of me... a part of me really likes you. I don't even know why, I just feel things I've never felt before when I'm around you. I feel myself blush, I feel myself wanting to smile. I feel something that I can't control, and it makes me so fucking angry that I can't put these feelings into words. Words are the way I express myself, you know? And now the only thing appropriate to say is something that I can't risk. I can't just tell you and think that you'll feel the same, and that you will care about me, and about the shit I do to myself. I can only hope that one day, maybe, you can tell me you want me to survive, you want me to get through, and then perhaps I will. But for now, I'll say I like you, and yeah I need saving, so go ahead and fucking save me already. I want out of this body. Let me free.”

It takes me a few minutes to process everything.

Anchors. He's letting me be his anchor.

I glance down at the burns on my left hand. He did this. I have to save him from doing this to himself.

“What do you want me to tell you?” I ask him.

“Tell me anything. What you're feeling, what you're thinking, because I know you are, I can feel that too.”

“I'm feeling something for you... I want to tell you I like you, and I want to tell you I'll try and save you if you want me to. But the only way for me to save you is if you embrace change, and can understand that it takes awhile for you to notice it. I want to tell you that you should smile, you should smile because everyone deserves to smile every now and then, and you obviously don't smile enough. I also want to tell you I've never liked a person more then a friend before, nor I have I ever tried to save someone like you, so forgive me if I say stupid things I don't mean, or fuck it all up, because I'm really good at doing both those things.”

Ryan thinks, and then nods.

“Thank you,” he whispers, and he take my left hand, the one with the burns.

“I did that?” he asks, as he traces his fingers around them.

“Yeah. But it's fine. I needed a wake up call.”

His hand is soft, cold and soothing. He laces his fingers with mine, looks at me, and smiles.

I smile too. So this is what I've been missing out on. This is amazing. This is wonderful. This makes me really, really happy. I wonder how Ryan is feeling right now.

I hope he feels the way I do.

Slightly smitten, but, wow.

I resist the urge to kiss him. I can't tell if he wants it or not.

He leans forwards, and wraps his arms around my body, resting one of his hands on my neck, the other on my waist.

“Don't freak out,” he breathes, and dips his head. His lips hit my neck and I shiver. I want it though. I enjoy it.

“I'm sorry... I had to do it.”

I don't say anything, but I pull him closer to me, and run my hands through his soft hair.

He seems to like it.

“Can I call you mine?” I ask him, not sure whether it was the right thing to do.

“Please do.”

He moves his arms away from me and scratches at his left wrist.

I picture the scars and scabs and bruises all over again, and cringe.

“Actually... you're afraid... I can't do this.”

He turns around and leaves.

I stay where I am, stunned.

That was fast. I can't do anything right, can I?

I walk home slowly, my feet are heavy, and I dread opening the door.

“Where the fuck have you been you worthless piece of shit? You were supposed to be at your clarinet lesson an hour ago! You take another step out of line and I swear to god, you are out of this house young man!”

I open my mouth to pour out a bushel of lies, but she stops me.

“Don't say anything! You want to end up like your father? An unemployed, fat, good for nothing bastard! You want to be like him don't you! You ungrateful boy, I do everything for you and what do you give me? Report cards that don't show the marks you KNOW I want from you! I pay for everything, I gave you a home, I gave you love, I RAISED you! How do you repay me? You give nothing back, and if you don't start trying harder in school I will make sure you are the most miserable thing you've ever come across.”

Her voice is deadly, testing me, telling me to slap her across the face, tell her I'm gay and that I hate her.

She gave me love? When did she ever give me any love? Maybe when I was a cute little toddler she loved me, but that's because children can't make mistakes. They are innocent.

“Get to your room right now, and start studying. Maybe I'll bring you some dinner later.”

Mothers.

****

A/N: so how was?? i'm making a soundtrack for this, and i'll upload it soonish, just need to add some more songs to it.. the song that Brendon was singing is called Wide Awake by Making April, and its beautiful, EVERYONE DOWNLOAD THEIR ALBUM
i swear, it's absolutely beautiful :) sorry about the delay again.. and writing the third chapter might take even longer.. btw, this story doesn't have such a good ending so if you don't like sad stuff you probably shouldn't read this. toodles! :)

Broken, Repairing [1/?]

2009-03-17T07:15:48Z

Title: Broken, Repairing [a/n: i rly want a new name for this... ideas? :D:D]
Author: skullonherwrist

Raiting M?
POV: Third
Summary: Biting his lip, Brendon shakes his head. “I didn't think you needed saving,” he says. “Well, then you're right,” Ryan's eyes bore into Brendon's, “I don't,” he hisses.
Disclaimer: hai, not mine :(
A/N: I wrote this ages ago. Really, I don't know exactly when last year, but I hadn't even looked at it for about 3 months until a few days ago when I typed it out and actually completed the first chapter. :)

~~

I CAN'T HELP IT.

I CAN'T HELP BUT GO INSANE.

I CAN'T HELP BUT DRIVE MYSELF INSANE.

this was no accident

this was a therapeutic chain of events

SIT BACK AND RELAPSE, AGAIN.

Ryan shuts the notebook quietly.

His father storms into the room.

Not saying a word, the man raises his fist and strikes Ryan's chest.

Ryan's hands fly up in defense, but he says nothing also.

He doesn't even cry out when his father pulls him away from his desk, his arm in a strange and painful position.

The monster forces Ryan to the ground, aims a kick at Ryan's stomach, and turns to leave.

“Fuck me up,” Ryan finally speaks, his tone hoarse and raspy, eyes squeezed closed, and arms wrapped around his torso.

The monster pauses at the door, and smirks. “I plan to.”

He swaggers out.

Ryan notices his voice is less human then before.

Sighing, Ryan stands and shuts the door, not forgetting to lock it as well.

He glances at his face in the mirror, satisfied with his appearance.

He looks at his journal lying on his desk.

Relapse.

Ryan pulls up his left sleeve, and slowly counts the marks.

Fourteen scars, to mark the fifteen times his father had beat him.

To mark that it was sixteen days ago that his father started drinking.

Sixteen days ago, January 17th, his father lost his job and Ryan's mother left them.

Ryan embraced the pain of the scars.

He relished it.

He clung to it.

It was his hope.

That and starving himself.

He told himself he was perfect if he was the only person ruining himself.

He pulls out the knife.

The knife with the dry blood crusting the sharp edge.

The knife he hides in his bottom drawer, locked away, saved as a weapon for him to use only.

He fingers the sharp edge, and deliberately makes a small slit on his thumb.

He's about to drag the the knife across his arm for the fifteenth time, when the doorbell rings.

In fear of his intoxicated father opening the door and harming a stranger, Ryan drops th knife and heads towards to the door, pulling down his sleeve while he does.

He opens the door cautiously.

A young boy, a year or two younger then Ryan himself is standing on the porch, looking embarrassed.

“Hello,” he says, “I just moved to this neighborhood, and I got lost. Could you, uh, give me directions to...?”

Ryan tunes out, and doesn't reply. He just stares.

This boy interrupted him to find out how to get to some street?

“No,” Ryan says finally, and shuts the door.

He stands motionless at the door.

He then opens it again and walk out.

The boy is retreating down his front drive.

“Follow me,” Ryan says quietly as he brushes past the boy.

The boy nods and tries to keep up with Ryan.

“I'm Brendon,” he tells him.

“Ryan.”

“I like that name.”

Ryan glares at him.

Brendon blushes.

“Here,” Ryan says after a few minutes of walking in silence.

“Thanks,” Brendon replies and gives Ryan a little wave.

Ryan blinks, and turns back in the direction of his house.

He then changes his mind, and turns back to the direction Brendon is walking in, deciding to go to the park.

As he passes Brendon, Brendon stares at him.

Curiosity and alarm are mixed in his large, chocolate colored eyes.

Ryan looks back.

He raises his eyebrows and smirks.

What a dork.

“Where are you going?” Brendon asks, walking with him.

“Park.”

“Can I come?”

“Public place, isn't it?”

“I guess so.”

The fear abandons Brendon's eyes.

Now he's only looking at Ryan with the same curiosity as before.

He desperately wants to figure this strange boy out.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Ryan growls.

Brendon stops.

“Sorry,” he whispers, gazing at his shoes.

“Don't think that just because I did you a favor, we should be friends.”

“I wasn't thinking that.”

“Something along those lines. You want to know why I am how I am. You want to figure me out. You want to save me.”

Brendon glances up, surprised.

Ryan smiles dryly. “I knew it.”

His honey colored orbs are impossible to read.
However, they read better then anything.

Biting his lip, Brendon shakes his head.

“I didn't think you needed saving,” he says.

“Well, then you're right,” Ryan's eyes bore into Brendon's, “I don't,” he hisses.

The anxiety reappears on Brendon's face. That sounded like a threat.

Ryan sighs, and pulls out a packet of cigarettes.

Brendon also sighs. Now he really wanted to figure this boy out.

Ryan lights one of the cigarettes, and offers Brendon one. Brendon stares at the white tube filled with disgusting, addictive drugs, and contemplates. He wants it, and accepts it.

He was a trapped child. This was breaking free. He was going to screw himself up, he thinks as Ryan lights it for him. He was going to screw himself up, and he was going to enjoy it. He was doing this in spite of his parents.

Brendon inhales, and coughs.

Ryan rolls his eyes.

“You didn't have to take one.”

“I wanted it,” Brendon replies, between coughs.

“Because they force you to be perfect.”

Brendon stops wheezing, and frowns. How did he know?

“Yeah,” he says, “they force me to be perfect and I don't want to be.”

“Well, then.”

Ryan demonstrates how to smoke properly.

Brendon copies, and doesn't cough this time.

“Feels good, doesn't it?”

Brendon nods.

“It kills you.”

Brendon nods again. This was revenge.

“It wears you away. Soon you'll be nothing. It's not worth it.”

Ryan takes the cigarette from Brendon's fingers, and drops it on the ground, stamping it out.

“Why did you do that?”

“It's not worth it,” Ryan repeats.

“Then why are you doing it?”

Ryan sighs.

“I'm escaping,” he murmurs.

“What?” Brendon asks, curious all over again.

Ryan doesn't answer. “We're here,” he says.

They're standing in front of a small park.

Ryan sits on the ground and pulls his hood on. Brendon also sits down, humming a song.

“You like Death Cab For Cutie?” Ryan questions.

Brendon nods, and sings.

And you can't find nothing at all, if there was nothing there all along.

“You don't hate them,” Ryan cuts him off.

“What?”

“You're not spiting them, you're spiting their beliefs.”

Brendon doesn't reply. He doesn't know what to say. He can't think of a rational answer.

“I can't find feeling, because I've never felt before,” Ryan says, “what about you?”

Brendon thinks.

“I can't find their love, because they don't,” he replies finally.

“Do you care about them?”

“No.”

“You do. Do you hate them?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“They hate me.”

“Do you care?”

“No.”

“You do.”

“I don't.”

“You do,” Ryan repeats, “if you didn't care, you wouldn't bother letting it get to you. You wouldn't think about it, worry about it. You would want them to ignore you, not notice you. You would ignore them too.”

A lump grows in Brendon's throat.

“I – I have to go,” he chokes.

“Goodbye,” Ryan replies.

Brendon stands, and runs. It's only when he looks back, and sees the setting sun silhouetting Ryan's figure, that he realizes. Ryan might actually have a point.

Ryan watches him leave, a small smile on his face. He also stands, and begins to walk home.

Crooked Teeth and Brendon's voice are replaying in his mind as he makes another slit across his arm, and watches the crimson blood stain his sleeve.

i'm a war of head versus heart

and it's always this way

my head is weak

my heart always speaks

before i know what it will say

“Brendon, can I have whatever you're writing please?”

Brendon looks up.

Miss Doyle is tapping her foot impatiently.

“Y – yeah,” he says quietly, handing her the piece of paper.

She skims over it.

“I'd like to see you after class,” she says and walks back to front of the room, to continue talking about whatever point in history they were learning about.

Brendon slumps in his seat.

This was going to suck. No, wait, it already did.

For the remaining ten minutes of the lesson, he stares at his desk. There are swirls and lines and initials carved all over the lid.

It's the little RR in the corner that gets him. Could it be Ryan's initials..?

The bell rings.

“Brendon?”

Brendon picks up his backpack and walks up to Miss Doyle's desk.

“Yes?” he says.

“That note. You didn't write it yourself, did you?”

Brendon blinks, surprised.

“It's a song,” he says.

“I see,” Miss Doyle frowns.

“Look, Miss, I really have to go...”

“Just a second.”

She fishes out a paper from a pile of assignments.

“Read that sometime,” she says, “it's by one of my students from my English class. Consider it your homework for the weekend, seeing as you weren't paying enough attention to know what you're supposed to be doing.”

Brendon nods. “Sorry,” he adds, and turns to leave.

“You're a good kid, Brendon,” she lowers her voice.

Brendon stops.

“And something you should know, being new here,” she pauses.

“Yeah?”

“It's best for you not to get involved with boys like Ryan Ross.”

Brendon gulps.

“Bye,” he whispers and hurries out of the room.

After a short, uneventful ride home, he goes to the park and sits on the grassy patch that he had sat on with Ryan five days before.

Since that day, Brendon had seen Ryan only once on his way to class. Brendon had worked out that Ryan was a junior, in the year above him.

Brendon pulls the paper Miss Doyle gave him out, and begins to read.

AIMLESS

BY RYAN ROSS

HE DIDN'T KNOW WHAT HE WANTED.

HE THOUGHT HE DID.

HE ASSUMED HE WAS MAKING ALL THE RIGHT CHOICES.

YET HE WAS RUINING HIMSELF.

HE HAD A HEAD AND A HEART.

BUT IT WAS A WAR.

HE WAS A WAR.

A WAR OF HEAD VERSUS HEART, AND IT WAS ALWAYS THIS WAY.

HIS HEAD IS WEAK, HIS HEART ALWAYS SPEAKS.

BEFORE HE KNOWS WHAT IT WILL SAY.

HE WAS TELLING HIMSELF, REASSURING HIMSELF – HE WAS RIGHT.

AND HIS HEART WAS TELLING HIM THAT IT WAS A WASTE TO CARE.

I AM HIS HEART.

HE LISTENS TO HIS HEART. TO ME.

HE OBEYS ME, HE'S THE ONLY ONE THAT EVER WILL.

FOR I AM MADE OF DECEIT, AND HE IS A FOOL.

I WILL TWIST HIS AIMS UNTIL HE IS AIMLESS.

I WILL MAKE HIM KNOW PAIN, KNOW REGRET.

AS WE SIT TOGETHER, HAND IN HAND, I WILL REMIND HIM. HE SHOULDN'T TRUST ME, FOR I AM THE ONE WHO RIPPED OFF HIS WHITE WINGS, AND TAINTED HIS BODY WITH HIS BLOOD.

I HELD THE KNIFE THAT SCARS HIM FOREVER.

I FORCED HIM TO FALL.

I PUSHED HIM OVER THE EDGE OF REALITY. I BROUGHT HIM TO HIS KNEES, TOLD HIM TO SUFFER, BECAUSE THIS IS HOW WE ARE.

I BROKE HIS FINGERS TO PREVENT HIM PLAYING HIS PIANO. TO PREVENT HIM FROM BEING BEAUTIFUL. TO PUNISH HIM.

Brendon feels sick.

Ryan Ross was screwed up, horrible, intriguing and... reading over his shoulder.

“You,” Brendon chokes, “get away from me.”

“Give me back my story,” Ryan says calmly.

Brendon doesn't.

“Why did you write this?” he asks.

A small, sadistic smile spread over Ryan face.

“You think it's about you,” he says, and he laughs.

His laugh is as evil as his smile, as melodic as his voice, as terrifying as his mind. Brendon cowers away from him.

At this, Ryan laughs more, and takes the paper, making sure they brush hands as he does.

Brendon flinches from the contact.

He doesn't want this boy figured out anymore.

“You got yourself into this,” Ryan says, “you can't run away from problems, you have to fix them.”

Brendon doesn't reply.

Ryan sighs,

“My father hits me. Harms me. He does it, and it's a problem, and I run away from it.”

He pulls up his left sleeve.

“I run away, and I make more problems.”

The first few cuts have started healing into jagged, painful scars.

Brendon stares.

“I'm sorry,” he breathes, “you're not a problem, I just don't understand you.”

Ryan nods and pulls down his sleeve.

“No one does,” he replies, and stalks away.

And for the first time, Brendon Boyd Urie sees through someone's act. Ryan Ross says he doesn't need saving. Brendon knows now, he does.

Not from his father, and not from the scars on his left wrist.

Ryan Ross needs saving from his own sick, sadomasochistic mind. He needs a person to drown all his thoughts of blood and bad. He needs an anchor.

An anchor to clamp him down and stop him from drifting back to the something that ruins his life.

Brendon immediately shakes the thought of being Ryan's anchor out of his mind.

What is he? He is a nobody, a new kid in town. He doesn't need the trouble.

“Stop thinking, maybe you'll see the bigger picture,” Ryan Ross calls over his shoulder.

Brendon looks up at him, and wonders why he hadn't left yet.

He stands, and walks quickly across the little park.

As he passes Ryan, Ryan crushes a burning cigarette butt into his hand.

Brendon feels the sting, but doesn't drop it.

Instead he tightens his fist.

What was the bigger picture?

Eyes can't see that far.

skullonherwrist @ 2009-01-20T21:30:00

2009-01-20T10:39:37Z

oh yeah so once again everything had to change

at least they changed for the better

i was in a neutral state for awhile, and then it hit me that my sister was going to be gone for the whole year, and i cried for a night, and silently begged whatever's out there to make her change her mind and come back

then it kind of occurred to me i can through shit on my own, and if i really need someone to talk to i can call her or talk to my other sister

and i'm starting to get sick of talking about myself
the sad thing is i don't have anything else to talk about.

p'raps i should end this now.

santi?

skullonherwrist @ 2009-01-04T23:44:00

2009-01-04T12:47:07Z

i finally like my reality and now i've managed to slip back into a fantasy and for some reason i believe that i am living a life i barely even know.
when did this this happen? when have i ever been mature enough to knock the fakeness out of my world.
when have i ever had the guts to face the music.

why is everything so fucking different?

Writer's Block: Top Dog

2008-12-13T11:01:48Z

What kind of dog (counting mixes and mutts) gets your vote as the champion of dogs?

View 500 Answers

pugs.
they are seriously the cutest things in the world.
and german shepherds and huskies and labradors and english sheep dogs are also awesome.
and beagles and chihuahuas are adooorable.
i love dogs. :]

skullonherwrist @ 2008-12-13T12:41:00

2008-12-13T01:46:19Z

i don't know.
i just feel like writing something.
even if i don't have much to say.

i wish things were different.
i wish they were fair and just.
there shouldn't be any hopes or dreams, we shouldn't need them. they're already here.
the reality.

fuck this btw.
i'm not sure why i'm bothering.

maybe i don't want anything to make sense anymore.
it's not like they ever did.

let's lay life out simple.

skullonherwrist @ 2008-12-01T13:39:00

2008-12-01T02:52:23Z

wow.

i'm really stuck in the middle of nowhere with no one to care about me, except myself.
because i'm a selfish fuck.

i really want to die and yet i'm scared to do it myself.

i keep having these images of something good happening, and nothing does, and it makes me empty and scared and worried that everything i have to hold onto [my sister and my ipod and my best friend] is going to fall apart

i don't know what to do

there's no one else to tell

my sister, i know her secret now, and i'm scared for her, because she's one of the best people i know, and yet she thinks she isn't and i don't see why she isn't pretty much in love with herself because everyone else is

she wants people to be jealous of her, guys to want her, strangers to look and her an then look twice.
she wants attention, and she has it, even if shes not skinny, only average.
she has charisma and a pretty face, and friends, and good fashion sense. shes funny and smart and tall and brave.

she is everything i want to be and yet she doesn't see it.

and then there's my best friend
she's chubby. not fat, not average but chubby, so she thinks she's ugly.
shes not
she's actually really really pretty, and she's also charismatic and popular and funny

we don't go to school together anymore though, and it feels weird being friends with her because i've got no friends at my new school.
everyone i know is superficial.
you need a big group of friends to be normal.
me? i have none.
all i am is skinny, that's it, that's all, that leaves me with basically nothing.

i don't like myself anymore.
i hate myself.

i hate myself because i used to have so much. i used to have friends.
there were 2 people at my new school who were really nice.

now, i don't know why, but they both hardly ever talk to me.

all i've got is feelings and they all suck.

what good is life if you aren't enjoying it.

and there isn't a human to tell.

i'm scared i'll manage to humiliate myself by breaking in class. just bawling my eyes out.
these days it's too easy to cry.
6 months ago it was so hard to feel a thing.
i was just plain empty, and i couldn't cry about, so i wrote about it.

now i can hardly write.
it takes ages for me to think of what to say, and even then, it doesn't mean anything, because i've got no one who cares about it.

i fucking want to give up, and i'm too much of a coward to do so.
fuckfuckfuck i hate myself.

Writer's Block: Autumn Begins

2008-09-22T11:25:12Z

Autumn starts today! How do you personally sense the change in seasons? Is Autumn more of a season in itself, or a transition period?

View 500 Answers

actually, spring just started for me. it's been cross rainy cross wonderful for the past week
yay for winter ending. winter sucks. tans are much nicer then unshaven, white legs. unless you're lucky and have darker skin. then tans aren't needed.
spring is still better, even though autumn is pretty.

everything is great, ily world.

and wtf is a transition period? :S

skullonherwrist @ 2008-09-03T18:23:00

2008-09-03T08:26:18Z

I decided I'm going to rewrite Like Petals.
I think half of the side plots I thought up, I forgot about.
Brendon was going to be depressed and drink a lot, but I totally forgot about that after writing the first chapter.

Also I'll probably be on hiatus for a while.
I need to sort some stuff at school out.

The concert was utterly amazing, and oh god, I wish they'd come back.

skullonherwrist @ 2008-08-11T19:04:00

2008-08-11T09:14:00Z

crap I haven't posted for a month.
Now I'm writing a story with my own characters.
I'm really looking forward to posting that somewhere.
I like it because it's about a Jewish boy whos gay and has to deal with stuff.
The idea kind of just occurred from the beginning of a Ryan/Brendon story that I had already started. I never got further then a few sentences, but I did have a plan in my mind what it was about.
It's way different now, but it looks like it'll shape up alright.
It's better then Like Petals is turning out anyway.
It doesn't have chapters.

in other news, twelve fucking days until the concert. I'm so excited. Oh god oh god oh god.
I'm also moving schools real soon and I don't know exactly when but I can't wait. :]

And drama is turning out really well. It's become one of those rare highlights in my week. The highlights that I get usually don't last long, but hopefully this time it'll last. It should, anyway. Unless my parents decide it's too expensive, which seems doubtful.

I also saw The Dark Knight last night.

Heath Ledger is so so so amazing. I'm in love with him.
We were talking in class today about how according to some old sage or whatever, the Jewish Messiah is actually a dead person, and so I yelled out 'Heath Ledger must be the real Messiah!' and got kicked out.
It was worth it, though.

We did this thing in science that made half the school stink like shit better known as rotten egg. We also got to go home early. I practically ran home. When I got there I wondered why I did, because there was absolutely nothing that I could possibely do other then play Spider Solitaire and listen to the The Classic Crime.

Life is painfully uneventful.

Oh well. :3

skullonherwrist @ 2008-08-03T11:45:00

2008-08-03T01:54:23Z

bahahahahahaha.
I'm totally avoiding writing my story.
instead I'm writing about three sentences a day for a different story.
I've got writer's block.

On the other hand, I had a totally amazing dream that I went to the PATD concert again.
Except this time, TAI and CSS weren't there.
Me and my friend were up right at the front, and there was no barrier.
While they were performing, Brendon got off the stage to shake hand with fans.
We met Dirty at the back of the concert hall place.
He gave some dude free converse. They were lowcuts, pink and yellow.
All the technicians were riding skateboards on their stomachs.
There wasn't a mosh pit.
There was just tonnes of rows of seats.
We met some really hxc fans and found the door to backstage [which was right next to the seats, you had to get off the stage and walk over to it.]

The stage was really little and didn't end on either side.
It was just square.
Jon looked awesome.
Ryan was wearing his rosevest [:DDDDDDDD]
Spencer was hidden behind his drum kit but I think he was wearing a headband that was actually Ryan's.

20 days until the real thing. omgz.

skullonherwrist @ 2008-07-14T22:01:00

2008-07-14T12:11:50Z

I had the best dream in existence last night.
it was the 23rd of August and I was going to PATD's show.
And everyone in the moshpit was dealing crack, and I was watching, amused.
And William and Sisky and Ryland and Butcher were all standing at the t-shirt stand, signing stuff.
And I kept trying to film the conversations we kept having.
But my camera wasn't working.
And suddenly, I found myself walking down a highway with William and Sisky, and a van wa in front of us, driving.
We kept walking, and after a bit the van, which had been going slowly, stopped, and we got on.
Then Butcher dragged Sisky into the 'bedroom' and told him to get changed into his 'costume,' to show me some performance or something.
And while I waited for Sisky to come out, I talked with this rando, whose name was Sophie.
And it was totally awesome, and Sisky came out and did an impersonation of something from really funny, and I tried to film it, but it didn't work.
And then I was back at the show, and William and yeah were at the t-shirt stand again, and everyone was buying crack, and the weird thing was, TAI was playing while I was getting William to sign my t-shirt.
[I had taken it off.. :S]
And then I gave Sisky and Gabe a pie- a meat pie, that had been squashed in my bag.
And suddenly, I was somewhere in the middle of all the moshing and crack-dealing, and I was wearing my school uniform and feeling daggy.

It was totally awesome.

Yeah, and the night before that I had a dream I was watching Chiz have sex with some girl in a public toilet in a shitty hotel. o_O
And Chiz had snuck into the bathroom in a purple scuba suit, through this retarded tank in the cubicle. And then he pretended to be a girl when he left through the door, all wet and ~sexed up.
And then we were going to have a threesome, but I found my parents in their bedroom and decided to get my luggage and take it to my room in the hotel instead.
I was also scared because I hadn't shaved my legs.
O_________O

I must say, waking up was slightly traumatizing.
:]

skullonherwrist @ 2008-07-07T23:24:00

2008-07-07T15:44:51Z

Okay, so I went on this camp for a week.
I've been intending to move schools next term [which is third term for me, I'm Australian] so I thought it would be a good idea to actually get to know the people.
Hence why I went to that school's camp.

Two of my friends were coming too, and a few people from my school that I wasn't really friends with, so I wasn't completely alone.
The first day, I stuck to my two friends. We squashed together on the bus, and didn't really talk to anyone, and then got through the afternoon still not really talking to anyone.
I had tried out at the school, and vaguely recognised some randoms, and we said hi and stuff, but the one person I really remembered was this boy, who is like a cross between Ryan Ross, Brendon Urie, and a whole lot of other famous people.
He wears horn-rimmed glasses, and has a similar hairstyle to Ryan's old one, and he's short, and girly-looking. He's really hyperactive and hilarious, and everyone loves him, and he can sing.
You could say I had a crush on him from when I first met him, because other then this girl who was assigned to show me around, and her friends, he was the only who actually took notice of me other then a couple of awkward introductions. Everytime he saw me he'd wave and yell out 'HI!' and me, being a really shy person if I don't know you, would say hi back really quietly, and sometimes he wouldn't hear, and he'd pout and ask me why I didn't say hi back.

Overall, he was adorable, and I remembered him, and recognised him when I got on the bus, and we kind of looked at each other, but he didn't recognise me.

I was upset when he didn't, but got over it.

The first night we had this game called maneuveres[sp?] and we had to tie ballons to our legs and then try and pop other people ones and get flour and shaving cream on them.

My friends and I didn't get dirty at all, but we had fun running around anyway.

The second day, one of my friends was complaining about how no one was being nice to us.
Uh, hello, it was the second day, obviously not many people would pay much attention to us.
She went home.
On the second day, after getting her mum to spend $365 on the camp, and probably more on her new clothes for the camp, she got her mum to come pick her up.

So I was angry at her for not giving it a chance.
Really, it's a shame she did leave because she missed the rest of it, and as soon as she left it got amazing.

We played this Jumanji game, and watched one of the counsellors make a fool of himself, pretending to be a pirate in a blowup boat and surfing suit. This guy has long, super curly hair that goes everywhere, and he's really cute. He's not good looking, but he's like a ginormous, loveable teddy bear. His nickname is Bez, which just makes him all the more cute for some reason.

Another counsellor whose name was actually Brendan, was also really cute. He's from South Africa, and he's going out with this girl Laura, and they make the cutest couple, despite him keeping a Jewish law that he isn't allowed to touch girls at all.
Whenever he says jelly, I crap up laughing, and pretty much every girl has a crush on him, even though he's kind of ugly. He's just really sweet, and cute, and unintentionally hilarious.
He kind of has this innocent air about him but we know he's not really innocent at all because he told me and some other year eights that he had a banana flavoured condom and he knew what deflower meant even when some of the boys who have the sickest minds didn't.

It's weird. The days ran through almst perfectly, and it all went so fast, but when I look back on it, it feels like longer then a week.
Everyday contained more things I never want to forget then an entire year in my life.
If I could have, I would have filmed everything. I would have filmed Friday night, when me and some girls were in the boys cabins and the boy I like was singing crap, particularly about me being a slut and a computer nerd, and my relationship with some weirdo named Rian who has a crush on me.
I would have filmed the hours after when he stole my suitcase at midnight and put it on Rian's bed, and I would have filmed the part where I almost literally strangled him after.

When I got back, things were different. My parents removed the lock on my door, and I got the shittiest report. I came back home feeling depressed, because I was gonna miss that freezing cold campsite, and I was gonna miss the friends I made there, and I was most definetely going to miss the little things that I've already forgotten.

I came home, upset. I was angry about my door. Then I saw my computer was gone. Then I saw two things lying on my bed: one was my report, the other was a package from FBR containing my CSS t-shirt, TAI hoodie, and Pretty. Odd. I looked at the package first and felt supe rhappy when I saw what it was. Then I looked at my report. It turns out, that despite the fact that I tried really hard to get good marks, I failed almost everything.
It's just proof that a majority of teachers only are prejudiced against me.

But it wasn't the fact that I failed that made me cry for about an hour afterwards. It was the fact that my report meant I was not moving next term. I wasn't going to get to spend the rest of my school years with the insane, amazing people I had known for only a week.

I kind of slept a lot after and contemplated just giving up, and then decided I wouldn't.
Now I'm sort hanging in between alive and dead.
Just morose and nostalgic.

I swear, I will never forget last week. The best week in my entire life.

skullonherwrist @ 2008-06-15T18:34:00

2008-06-15T10:46:48Z

I've been watching videos from last year a lot.
I miss having long hair, and making stupid videos about utter crap and filming anything and everything.
I miss my video camera, and year 7, and bludging jewish studies lessons with Orah.
I miss the private jokes, and the ridiculous amount of laughing until crying.
I miss that one time I went ice skating with everyone, and we saw a whole lot of year 8 boys we knew who were behaving like total fucks.
I miss the million jokes we made about it afterwards.
I miss the hour long walks I would take after school, without shoes on, and I miss taking pictures of the trillion beautiful things I would see.
I never thought it would come to this, but I even miss my shitty MP3 player that had about 80 songs on it.
I desperately want things to change, but even more so, I want last year back.

envy [s/a]

2008-05-29T13:57:58Z

Title: Envy
Author: skullonherwrist
Rating: Somewhere in between R and PG-13
Pairing: Ryden, Onsided Brendon/Ryan’s sister
POV: Third, Ryan’s sister
Warning: Character deaths. Yes, deaths.
Summary: She was hated.
Disclaimer: plot claim.
Author Notes: at the bottom.

She stepped out of the shower, her thin, pale body dripping with water.
She looked at herself in the mirror, trying to see what was wrong with her.
She was hated.
Everyone hated her.
But why? She didn’t know.
All she knew was that she hated herself, too.
There was nothing likable about her.
She was the younger of two children, but not even her parents cared shit about her.
They only noticed Ryan.
She envied him.
He was the good boy, with the absolutely precious [fake] girlfriend, top grades, good looks, countless friends who, according to his parents, were all decent, respectable kids.
Unlike the one friend she ever had.
Everything she did was wrong, but she was the honest one.
Ryan lied.
His girlfriend was really his best friend, and his best friend his boyfriend.
He wasn’t really a virgin, he had tried drugs, he got drunk all the time at parties, he was gay.
She had never done anything.
She had never taken one step out of line [except when she was forced to,] and everyone despised her.
She glared at herself, and traced her fingers over the clearly visible veins on her chest.
She imagined that her nails were blades, and with them, she was destroying herself.
She was imperfect.
Her eyes, unlike Ryan’s, were angry and harsh. One was black, and one honey coloured.
She dug her nails deep in her skin, and wondered what pain was.
What was feeling?
What was love, jealousy, pain, regret? What was a heart? An organ, a tool, or something with substance?
What was being alive?
She almost laughed as she recollected dinner that evening.
“Why don’t you eat?” her father growled, “Why aren’t you normal, like everyone else?”
“George, please,” her mother said, grabbing his arm, “We have guests.”
She was referring to Keltie and Brendon, Ryan’s fake girlfriend, and Ryan’s fake best friend, who were staring into their laps, slightly embarrassed,
Ryan was also, although he was looking down more from shame that his sister was so abnormal. [Or so she thought.]
He hated her, [she thought,] just like everyone else, and she wished she could hate him back, but instead she was jealous of him.
“It’s not anything they haven’t seen before,” her father laughed cruelly.
It wasn’t, but it didn’t stop their awkward reaction, and their feeling of pity for the girl no one cared about.
Silent, she walked away from the table, only have taken small sips of water as her dinner.
She was ugly, she was fat, she was worthless. [She told herself.]
She wanted to be perfect.
She tried to be perfect.
She tried to be perfect, like Ryan, the boy who was in love with someone else, not just in love, an unrequited love.
She tried to be her older brother, by a year, but she wasn’t seen as Ryan, she was seen as a failure, a disappointment.
It was all her fault, she concluded.
If she didn’t exist, Ryan wouldn’t have anything to be ashamed of.
Her father wouldn’t need to show his hateful side, shaming his child- in his mind, his only child.
If she wasn’t real, maybe things would have been just fine for Spencer.
Maybe he would have become one of the greatest drummers of all time, just like he wanted to be.
But instead, he was in the ground, rotting, an empty, dead shell of someone once beautiful, and all because of her.
She didn’t think of Spencer, though, as she glared with all the hate she had in herself at the image of hell in the mirror.
She wished for love. Real, true love. Requited love.
The feeling Ryan had already found, so easily, with another man.
Brendon Boyd Urie, the boy she also loved.
But nothing is ever requited for her, she clarified, except for hate. Sheer disgust.
Everyone hated her, and she hated everyone, except for Brendon, and though she would never admit it to herself, Ryan was something to her as well.
When she was nearly fifteen, she watched Ryan and Brendon, running around the back yard, laughing and stopping every now and then to share little gentle kisses.
Her parents were on vacation, for their anniversary, so she could to stay in her room all through dinner [if anyone bothered to make some,] without any hassles, and Ryan and Brendon could kiss with out the fear of Ryan's parents seeing.
She smiled slightly as Brendon tripped over an invisible rock, and pouted adorably when Ryan giggled at him and refused to help him up.
She knew it was love, those two and a half years ago.
She knew it was love for them, and love for her, but not in the beneficial way.
She sighed, and then threw up in the sink.
Her whole body ached.
Her bleary eyes that were still smothered in yesterday’s eyeliner and mascara, slid shut, and she didn’t open them as she dried her body.
She was pulling on her thick jumper, that hid her frail, protruding bones when there was a loud knock on the bathroom door.
“I need to go real bad, so open up!” Brendon yelled.
Tiredly, she opened the door, and gave Brendon a long, unreadable look before heading back to her bedroom.
“Hey, wait,” Brendon said softly, as she was about to disappear into the nothingness of the room across the hall.
She turned and looked him in the eye again.
“I’m sorry,” he said slowly, “About your dad, and everything, really. I notice no one bothers treating you right.”
She just barely nodded in reply.
“I’m sorry about it. You don’t deserve it.”
There, she glared at him.
“I do,” were the first words she said in nearly a year, and she stalked into her room, slamming the door shut after her.
In her room, she was safe from everything.
She locked the door and cried.
What is pity, she thought.

***

When Ryan knocked on her door, she opened it without question and then settled back on her bed reading a book.
Ryan cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Um,” he said, sweating, though she didn’t notice, “I came to apologize.”
She didn’t react, but turned a page, and whispered after a few moments silence “For what?”
Unsurely, Ryan continued, “For treating you like... well, for not treating you like anything. For not being your brother, like I’m meant to be.”
She looked up at him, but didn’t say anything.
“And,” Ryan rubbed him palms against his hips nervously, “Dad. Everything he’s done to you. Especially,” he faltered, “Especially with Spencer.”
The words stabbed her.
This was pain.
Her breath hitched and her heart stopped as she remembered.

Her father waved the pistol in her face.
“See this?” he smirked, “With this gun, this measly little hunk of metal, you’re going to kill your fag friend.”
Her eyes widened with fear. He was talking about Spencer, her best friend since forever, who had decided at nine years old that he was gay and going to be a musician when he grew up.
“What?” she whispered, tears threatening to spill.
Her father dragged her into the bathroom, where Spencer was lying, bound and gagged with duct tape.
He forced the gun in her hands, standing behind her, and placing her small index finger on the trigger.
“No! No!” she cried and he pressed down on the trigger, her finger underneath his.
A bang, and then it was slow motion.
Echoed yelling, a police car, tears dripping down her face, the body being carried away, several false accusations.
“I saw it with my own eyes,” her father lied smoothly, his voice deliberately shaking, like he was scared because his daughter was a killer.
“I tried to stop her, but I was too late.”
The case was supposed to be huge.
Who ever heard of a thirteen year killing her best friend, and having a deadly weapon in possession to do so.
However, the case never happened.
Six days after it was scheduled, she fell in a coma from a car ‘accident.’
Seven months of dreaming that Spencer was still alive, but then her killing him, over and over again, and she woke up.
Now fourteen, and if she was hated then, she was an abomination now.
Brendon had showed up, and her parents loved him even more then her.
That was when she discovered what love was.
That was the worst memory she ever remembered.

“Get out,” she whispered to Ryan, “Don’t talk to me.”
Ryan nodded, looking slightly upset, but she knew he didn’t really care. [She thought she knew.]
He walked out of the room, and as soon as the door was closed, she placed her book on her bed, and pulled a knife out of her chest of drawers.
She took off her pyjama pants, and stuck the blade into her thigh.
There were hundreds of scars from doing that over the last three years.
Each little white and purple mark represented only more shit she had to deal with.
Now, she was dealing with remembering.
She yanked the knife out of her flesh, and then stuck it back into to another area on her leg.
And she hated herself.
She repeated her actions.
And she was seeing what pain was.
Physical?
The she placed the blood soaked knife back in its place in her drawer, and wiped the three cuts clean.
They didn’t stop bleeding for awhile, but this was normal, so she locked her door and went back to reading.

***

Brendon was over, as usual, and she could hear him and Ryan making plans for the summer.
“I love July,” she heard Brendon’s loud voice, and nearly smiled.
There was a silence, Ryan replying in hushed tones, the way he always spoke.
“Oh, right, sorry.”
That was Ryan telling Brendon to talk quieter, she knew.
She sighed, as she heard the two boys mumbling to each other.
It was love, taunting her, as usual. Laughing in her face, and saying “you’ll never catch me.”
It made her angry.
This was feeling.
This was unfair.
Life was unfair, she knew, but this was just overdoing the unbalanced happiness.
The anger boiled inside her.
Little black flames grew in her stomach.
She opened her top drawer and looked inside.
The pistol was still there, the hunk of metal that ruined her already broken life, exactly three bullets left in it.
It was the jealousy and fury combined that made her storm into Ryan’s bedroom, the gun in her hand.
“Fuck you,” she spat, and shot Ryan, in the temple.
Brendon didn’t move for a few seconds, he simply stared at her in fear, and then rushed to Ryan’s side, clutching the gushing wound, and his brown eyes dark and watering.
“Why?” he whispered, before she shot him in the head too.
She stood still for a moment, before replying.
“Envy,” she said to no one, and then shot the last bullet in her head, wondering if that was really a good enough reason.

***

A/N: this is what happens when I get really depressed, and I apologize tonnes for killing Ryan and Bden and Spence. :[ I feel bad about it now. :[[

if you notice any grammatical errors, or whatever, please tell me.

idk.

2008-05-28T09:40:18Z

I've been feeling really depressed lately.
Which is stupid, I guess.
It was just my birthday.
Shouldn't I be happy?
But I kind realized on my birthday, that I didn't care about it.
Instead of being all happy about it, like I was last week, running around and telling all the teachers and all my firends and everything, I was just 'meh, thanks,' when anyone came up to me and told me happy birthday.
I didn't have a happy birthday, not really, it was okay.

But, yeah.
I started writing a really depressing one-shot inwhich people die and everything is sad.
That's what happens when I decided things suck.

And to prove how morose I've been lately, even my dreams have been depressing.
Two nights ago, I dreamt that I was at a carnival kind of thing, but there was hardly anyone around, and me and Brendon or Patrick, I'm not sure, got on a hot air balloon with my cat [I don't even own a cat wth.] and then somehow we were in the air, and looking over my primary school. And the hot air balloon for some reason couldn't hold us up. So I decided I would jump out with my cat.
And Brendon/Patrick was like, 'If you really want to, I'll miss you,' and he kissed me, and I jumped out, holding onto all these helium balloons. And then I kind of floated down in slow motion, wondering if was going to die, and I did. Somehow, I landed headfirst and then I woke up.
And today I almost fell asleep in maths.
I was half dreaming about how I was Sisky Biz, and I was about to join the band, and one of the guys from TAI was asking me if I really wanted to, and he was explaining to me about all the hard things you have to go through.
And he started crying cause he mentioned 'you can't waste time mourning over loved ones.'
And I hugged him and stuff, and then my maths teachers yelled at me to pay attention and I stopped dreaming.

So, as far as I can tell, growing up sucks. I wish I was Peter Pan.

skullonherwrist @ 2008-05-05T21:12:00

2008-05-05T11:13:38Z

The Cab is amazing. :D

No one reads this. :[
Oh well...

The Cab is amazing. :D

skullonherwrist @ 2008-04-07T00:00:00

2008-04-08T07:36:10Z

new here.
yay?