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#letters I can never send
halcyonramblings · 2 years
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Letters I Can Never Send, No. 5
Dear D,
After our New Years Eve date, I heard from you just about every day. Some days it was a meme, sometimes it was a song, and sometimes it was a deep philosophical question meant to initiate heated banter. Those were always my favorite.
Valentines Day came and went with little fanfare, but it didn’t matter because you spent your evening with me. Granted, it was through texting as opposed to in-person, but still you dubbed me your Valentine and we talked all night, so I went to bed with a contented smile on my lips and - dare I say it? - love swelling in my heart. I had three months until graduation, I had recently been awarded a full scholarship, and I was falling hard for you. I swore to myself that my first night at college, I was going to sleep in your arms.
Two days later, February 16th started as just another mundane day of high school until it all fell apart during 2nd period, AP U.S. history. Mr. Brown’s classroom felt as chilly as the biting air outside, and the fluorescent lights felt too bright as I shivered against the fuzzy fleece of my North Face jacket. Classmates chattered idly all around me while Mr. Brown swore under his breath at the Smart Board, which was refusing to display the Power Point that would guide his lecture.
Covertly, I slipped my iPod Touch out of my pocket, the pink and white giraffe print case cool and smooth in my palm. It had recently become common knowledge that the school’s wi-fi was unsecured, so we could freely use apps just so long as we didn’t get caught. I clicked onto Facebook and began to absently look through my newsfeed, when the sight of your name made me pause my scrolling. You had “liked” a photo.
I had never seen the girl before. Never had I seen a trace of her in the comments of your posts, never a tagged photo, never a wall post, never a mention of her as part of your regular rotation of friends. Already feeling panicked, I clicked through to her profile. Right there, under her recently added, there you were. Brand new Facebook friends. I clicked back to the picture, began to scrutinize her.
As much as I hated to admit it, she was kind of pretty, in a hipster sort of way. She had shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair in flat-ironed layers, thick bangs covering a large portion of her face. A purple bandanna was tied in her hair like a headband and she wore a gray t-shirt bearing the emblem of your university. Her eyes were partially obscured by thick, rectangular glasses and she smirked at herself in the mirror she was using to take her picture.
At this point, my heart had completely fallen out of my chest and landed in stomach acid, where it threatened to come up my throat and splatter like a tomato on the grimy tile floor. I clicked back to her profile, tears bubbling up in my eyes. She was pretty. In one picture, she didn’t wear her glasses and instead flashed huge, ice-blue eyes, black mascara piled on long lashes. In another, she played a guitar in the middle of a convenience store, right in front of the icee machine. There was one where she sat cross-legged on her bedroom floor, trippy posters on the turquoise wall behind her and a Spam can on the bookshelf being used as a pen holder. She had a professional grade camera; photo after photo featured her holding up random objects in front of a fisheye lens.
I couldn’t deny it; she was everything I wanted to be. She was perfect. And she was your type. As the day wore on, I obsessively stalked both your Facebook profiles. You “liked” another of her photos, an older one taken with a webcam; she had obviously recently showered, hair in damp, wild curls framing her face.
That night, though, you texted me as if everything were normal. You made no mention of this mystery girl, instead sending me a song to listen to: “Warning Sign” by Coldplay. In return, I sent you “Bedroom Eyes” by the Dum Dum Girls. We continued like this, back and forth musical tag with some conversation sprinkled in, until you said goodnight around midnight. You promised you would talk to me tomorrow, punctuating your text with a ;-) face. Perhaps I had overreacted, I told myself as I burrowed under the covers.
You didn’t text me the next day, though. In fact, that was the last I heard from you. Days or weeks passed, I’m not sure. It felt like forever.
You certainly had time for your new friend, though. Over the next several days, I endured constant “likes” and even wall posts between the two of you - feigned sarcasm, playful arguing, exchanging songs, just like we did. It almost felt as though you were rubbing it in my face. But the thing that hurt me the most, the twisting of the knife - remember one of the songs you sent her?
Fucking “Warning Sign” by Coldplay, D.
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dear childhood best friend. you don't know me but you meant the world to a kid who would be quite alone & very sad for many years after you left their life. thank you for the love, however brief it was. it was not wasted.
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agentark · 1 year
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whatever you do, don't imagine a young J Corvin waiting every day at the end of their drive, hoping today is the day the mail carrier finally brings a letter from their very best friend
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anotherpapercut · 8 months
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just officially sent in my resignation for my fucking childhood dream workplace
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e-6000 · 6 months
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alright lads (gender neutral) chaos posting time I need Sapphic song recs I'm making a playlist but I only have two songs bc apparently this is a particular niche that my standard music taste doesn't touch. so far I have Untitled God Song by Haley Hendrix and The Stranger At My Door by Brandi Carlile. also I'm thinking of changing my name actually and for real. that is irrelevant to the rest of the post I'm just kind of putting it into the universe to see how it feels. I've been considering the name Cedar. anyways. lesbian songs please and thank you bye
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"I remember a time when everyone I loved hated me because I hated them. So what, so what, so fucking what. I remember a time when belly buttons were knee high When only shitting was dirty and everything else clean and beautiful. I can't remember anything without a sadness so deep that it hardly becomes known to me. so deep that its tears leave me a spectator of my own STUPIDITY And so I go rambling on with a hey nonny nonny no. How long can one go on writing and writing like you. I now don't really know who I'm writing to or why its quiet [sic] peculiar. I usually write like this and forget about it, but if I post it it's like a little part of my almost secret self in the hands of someone miles away who will wonder what the hell is going on or just pass it off as toilet paper. Anyway I don't care really what happens because when I think about it, its so bloody unimportant – but what is important, who has the right to say that this letter is not important and Jesus is a something anyway – in any way – anyway – Yeah! I wonder what it would be like to be a cretin or something. I bet its great. Er how are you keeping, Stuart old chap. Are you OK – is life good – bad, shite, great – wonderful as it was or is it just a thousand years of nothing, and coalmen on and on and on. I think this is it Goodbye Stu don't write out of – er, what's it? Well, not because you think you ought to. Write when you feel like. So goodbye (from John. You know, the one with glasses) ANYWAY BYE BYE See you soon. I don't know why I said that."
– An unsent letter from John Lennon for Stuart Sutcliffe (1961)
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nobody talk to me i've been emotional all week over king's dad having kept an eye on him his whole life from The In-Between. much like spinel, i will never be able to watch the series the same way again
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Oh god.
This summer you sent our mutual friend a package, to get to me. An heirloom, a bit of camp history. Passed down to me.
And on that package, your phone number and address. Your phone number, that I had long deleted from my phone because the urge to call you was always too strong.
When I last saw you in person, you said that when you finally moved to the city it would be with your girlfriend. You would move in together. And surely, she would become your fiancee and then your wife.
There it is. On the package. Your new address, in the city.
I have to keep myself from calling you right now. You probably have my number blocked, and I truly don't know what I'd do if you answered. But I would give anything to hear your voice again.
Even if it's just you saying, "Hello? Who is this?" While her voice is in the background, asking you what you want for dinner.
At this point, I don't even need to be the voice in the background asking what you want for dinner.
I just wish I could be the voice on the other end of your phone call.
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kittiesfordays · 11 months
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something feral awakens in me every time i hear the intro song from a tale of thousand stars
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biillys · 1 year
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was always firmly on the what the fuck was billy’s mum thinking abandoning billy with neil train etc but then dacre went and opened his big mouth at that one con and said the they moved to hawkins to keep billy and his mum seperate and then [gestures vaguely to everything else he’s said about billy and his mum] so obviously my mind was like. okay well now i need to know everything. i need that backstory. and we’re never gonna get it until dacre drops the 237 hour long Life of Billy documentary. so for now we are just grasping at straws, and this straw i could not un-grasp. i hate myself. 
anyway.
billy's mom leaving, not by choice, but by force.
her and neil started with a whirlwind romance, neil with his clean cut up bringing and military service. her from the wrong side of the tracks, running wild and free, happy to be neil's spot of rough for a few weeks.
but then weeks turned to months, and months turned to years. neil stopping by to see her, and only her, when he was home on leave, and she felt so fucking special because of it. it didn't even matter on the days he got quiet, withdrawn, mad. he always came home to her.
she could deal with anything, everything, as long as he chose her.
loved her.
she was barely 22 when she found out about the baby, and suddenly the walls were closing in, and neil was ringing around and organising a wedding, and the feeling of trapped set in permanently.
she tried so hard to make it work, but her own parents were barely existent, and neil's parents had frowned upon her since the moment they met her, and any hope she had for role model options of an upstanding mother and wife had been dashed before she even knew she needed them.
but then billy was born, and he was in her arms, and she promised herself that she would never give up, that she would try, and they'd both make it out of this alive.
neil was gone a lot for the early parts of billy's life, leaving just her and her son alone, and slowly the trapped feeling started lifting, leaving behind nothing but love.
she was there for his first smile, was the first one to make him laugh, was there to watch him take his first steps, there to watch him take off running. heard his first word, and then every word after that. neil popped in and out, coming and going between tours, but billy was a mumma's boy through and through, and neil could never bond with him the way she could.
he tried, she'll give him that, but all efforts were quickly given up on, and it wasn't long before neil started in on being the firm parent, talking about how some kids just needed some tough love. stating that there was no reason billy should need to be sung to sleep anymore, that he was 2 years old, he should be putting himself to sleep by now, staying in his own bed the entire night. that he should eat all the food on the plate in front of him, and if he doesn't, then he can go to bed hungry. that tantrums and meltdowns and wrong doing's need more than a simple time out, that's the only way he'll learn.
and then neil would disappear again, and it would just be her and her little boy, and he'd sleep in bed with her all night, and he'd get dessert even when he didn't finish his dinner, cos 'no one likes carrots, baby, i just thought i'd let you try them', and when he draw on the wall with markers he wasn't meant to play with, she talked him through what was wrong, put him on time out, and then they went secondhand shopping for old used couches to cover up that section of wall.
neil never found out.
but then she gets the call, and her chest freezes, her hands white-knuckling the phone cord, because neil's coming home, and this time he's not leaving.
he's coming back for good.
she puts on a brave face, and makes the most of the last few days of peace with billy while she can. spending every moment she can with him by the water, spinning around and playing in the sun, walking to and from the beach on their usual route, billy having the corner shop owner wrapped around his little finger and getting a free lolly each trip.
doing her best to prepare for whats next, promising herself that no matter what, she can handle it. that for billy, she can handle anything.
except then neil's home, and he's everywhere. he has opinions on everything, and nothing she does is right, nothing billy does is okay, and neil use to sometimes be mad, but now he's angry. he's angry at the military for writing him off over an injury he claims he could've walked off, he's angry at her for fucking up their son, he's angry at billy for being a child, he's angry at the entire fucking world.
the first time he hit her, they weren't married. billy wasn't even a thought. she let it go, thinking it was just a one off, a heat of the moment thing, brought out only because of their fight. and after months of no repeats, she figured she was right to let it go. but then it happened again, just before she found out about billy. then again, just after. again, just before billy's arrival, again, just after, again, and again, and again. but she never worried too much, because neil always left, and she always had a count down, a light at the end of the tunnel, a fail safe.
then she didn't, and neil was back, for better or for worse, and there wasn't anything she could do.
but she tried. he got angry, and she tried with everything she had to make sure billy was safe, that it was just her that got hurt. that billy would never know this side of his father. but as billy got older, and as neil got colder, firmer, she could only protect him from so much.
it felt like she was holding him, just a baby a few hours old in her arms one moment, then she blinked, and suddenly he was six, and scared, and so so brave, running at neil to try protect her, trying to tackle him to the ground.
her and neil's fights got louder, more frequent, more physical, and billy got quieter, more withdrawn, terrified.
the fight that broke them was over billy, naturally.
she came home from a shift from a local little clothes boutique where she'd picked up some part time work, only to find billy sitting at the kitchen table, head down, sniffling, doing his homework, and neil standing at the stove and stirring a pot, his eyes never leaving his son, looking at him the same way he looks at her when she accidentally fucks up dinner.
"you okay, honey?" she asks as she cards her hand through his hair. he sniffles again but nods, still not looking up.
she doesn't believe him even for a second, but she knows what it's like to have neil's weighted stare sitting on you, so she lets it go for the moment and leaves to get changed.
when she comes back, neil's finally turned around and focused on the stove, and billy's packing away his maths worksheets. she sits in the chair beside him and resumes running her hand through his hair.
"how was your day, baby?" she asks softly.
billy finally looks up at her, and the second her eyes land on the marks around his neck, the dried tear tracks all over his cheeks, his damp and shiny eyes, and the wince he doesn't even think to hide when he shrugs, she's out of her chair and grabbing neil by the arm and spinning him around within the second.
"what the fuck did you do?" she hisses at him, and neil has the nerve to continue fixing dinner, like their son isn't in pain, crying, just a few feet away from them at that very second.
"he needs to grow up, no more childish games. no more kid stuff," neil replies calmly, like billy isn't an actual child.
"he's six!" she stresses, because he is six, he's just a baby. he's her baby.
"he's old enough now to not-," neil starts, before getting cut off with-
"he's a child!"
"he doesn't need-"
"he is a kid! he is just a child, neil!" she yells, and part of her's worried about scaring billy, but neil hurt him. neil can lay his hands on her all he wants, but billy's always been off limits.
until today, apparently.
"he's our child- my child! you can not fucking touch him, ever."
it escalates, as all their arguments do, and before she realises what she's saying, she's threatening to leave, to take billy and never turn back. it’s not the first time she’s said it, but this time it feels right, feels like something finally settles into place.
neil waits calmly for her to finish her tirade before bringing reality down.
"you're gonna take my son away from me, huh? and what judge, in their right mind, would leave billy with you, a mother who can't even hold down a full time job, with a police record, and barely a handful of savings."
neil waits her out while she scrambles to find an answer, but that trapped feeling she had all those years ago comes back full force, and the only thing tethering her is billy, whose come up behind her and has buried his face into the small of her back, his hand gripping hers.
"i'm his mother," she breathes out, "courts favour the mother," she settles on, even though she knows that if this ended up in court, neil would fight her every step of the way, and a sinking feeling in her gut tells her he would win.
he always wins.
in the end, it's neil that takes her to court.
it's barely a custody battle. neil's always been good at putting on a show, winning over a crowd, turning on the charm. it doesn't seem to matter that she's the mother, that she finally landed a stable full-time job, that billy wants to stay with her. neil talks, and twists stories, paints an entirely different picture of their home life and situation than the reality; before she knows, he has everyone eating out of the palm of his hand before she can even try rebuttal anything.
he's given full time custody.
she's given nothing, not even contact, unless approved by neil himself.
neil never approves.
billy sneaks one call in though, because he's just like her, and he never gives up.
her heart feels like it’s breaking right down the middle, never to be repaired, and she knows he's too young to understand or comprehend, but she doesn't know how to explain to him the gravity of the situation. doesn't know how to tell him that if someone found out they made contact, that her chances of overruling the court order could be jeopardised. so she takes a page out of neils book, even though it tastes like acid in her mouth and makes her cry herself to sleep, and makes her voice as firm as it can go, tell's him that she had to go, to not call her again.
she'll hear billy crying 'i don't understand!' until the day she dies, she knows.
she works and fights for years. learns more about divorce and the child's court system than she ever expected to know, and tries everything she can to finally see him again. has long since moved on from the pipe dream of full custody, and is now just trying for visitation rights.
slowly, she gets somewhere. unfortunately, everything she gets approved for has to go through neil first, and neil blocks her at every turn. he answers every call, and hangs up every time. all letters are returned, unopened, never making it to billy's hands.
(billy completely unaware of everything. forbidden to answer the phone, never seeing any mail addressed to him. isn't even aware that his parents are even in contact, let alone at war.)
before she knows it, he's lived more life without her than with her, she's missed more birthdays with him than celebrated, and soon he won't even legally be a child.
sometimes she thinks maybe if she just waits ‘til he's legally an adult, then she can try reach out, and neil won't have any leg to stand on. her and billy will be free. but then she remembers neil, she remembers how he tried to raise him, how the purpose of this arrangement wasn't for neil's benefit, but for her and billy's punishment's. she remembers billy's voice on the phone, crying, begging her to take him too.
she promised herself she wouldn't give up, and she won't.
she writes him another letter, but instead of folding it up and putting it in an envelope, hargrove residence address dotted on the front, she simply folds the piece of paper, writes 'for billy' on the outside, and calls in an old family friend. someone that was around in the early days of her and neil, close enough to still probably be in town, but distant enough to hopefully not be too chummy with neil. it's risky, but she's desperate.
luck seems to be on her side though, because she barely explains the situation before he's nodding along and taking the note. promises her that he'll have it delivered asap; neil won't know a thing.
she hugs him and thanks him repeatedly before she sits and waits. takes a moment to think about how this might take more than a few hours, but like fuck is she gonna miss whatever happens next.
-
billy and max are hanging out at the skate park on a sunny as fuck day when it happens. billy's sitting at the top of the half pipe, legs dangling over the edge while he has a smoke, when he hears his name get called out. he looks over to see some old guy trying to get his attention, nodding his head over and holding up a piece of paper, and billy's two seconds away from telling him to fuck off, except he looks vaguely familiar in a distant kind of way, and billy kinda wants to know what the fucks up. he grabs his board before sliding down and cautiously walking over, glaring at the guy holding out the letter. billy reaches out and grabs it.
"good luck, kid," the guy says, then walks away.
"the fuck?" billy stares after him as he goes, then looks back down at the letter in his hand. he flips it over and reads the neat and cursive 'for billy' on the front, the flips it open.
max takes one look at his face, which has lost all it's colour, and chooses that moment to wander over and try to casually take a peek. the second he realises he's got an audience, he quickly shoves the note into his pocket and wipes a hand over his face, quickly pulling himself together.
"fuck off, shitbird," he basically growls.
max levels him with a glare but takes off on her board, rolling her eyes at his dramatics. she didn't even get a chance to read a single word.
billy shoots a look at a bunch of middle schoolers hogging a park bench that’s mostly secluded, and after they all flee, takes a seat to read the letter properly in peace.
the letter doesn't say too much, just that his mom's fighting for him, and she's never stopped fighting for him. that she loves him, and she's sorry it's taken her so long, and that she promises, soon, they'll see each other again, if that's something he still wants.
it's been 9 years, give or take, since he's seen his mom, and the longer it's drawn out, the angrier he's got. he's well aware he's got abandonment issues, and he's pretty sure they all started with her, from the very second she told him to stop calling her, and they’ve only grown with every second she hasn't been in contact since.
but the second he reads the letter, the moment 'i've never stopped fighting for you' digs and etches itself onto his brain, the anger he has just drains out of him, and suddenly he's seven years old again, desperate to see her.
he folds the note as small as he can, and slips it in the smaller hidden pocket of his jeans that he's never known a function for, and guards that pocket like it's his only hope. scrubs at his face with his hands to make sure there's no evidence of any tears, and schools his face into the usual scowl.
he hangs back and chills on the bench until max is ready to go, in absolutely no hurry to get home, then spends the entire trip back ignoring her and her 50 questions. max gets pissed pretty quickly with the silent treatment, and within two blocks has turned the silent treatment back on him.
later on, while billy’s finishing a late assignment under neil’s watchful gaze and max is helping her mom out in the kitchen, things fall apart.
susan asks how max’s day was, and before billy can even attempt to signal for her to keep her mouth shut, she’s telling her mom about the weird guy giving billy letters at the park. susan turns to him and starts talking about stranger danger and accepting things from people he doesn’t know in public places, and billy has no choice but to nod along and agree. he casts a glance over at his dad and finds him looking straight at him.
billy swallows and wipes his hands on his jeans before trying to focus back on his school work and prays his dad will drop it.
billy’s never that lucky.
he hears his dad stand up slowly from his armchair and make his way towards the kitchen.
“what’s this about a letter?” neil asks casually, walking up to the table.
billy glances at max and susan, then back to his dad.
“nothing,” billy grips his pencil tightly and makes sure his voice keeps steady. “just some guy trying to get people to go to his band’s gig. he handed out flyers to the whole skatepark.”
he makes sure to not break eye contact and hopes it’s enough.
“he called you by name, and you were the only one who got a note,” max points out, looking at billy like he’s lost his mind. billy kinda wants to fucking strangle her. he swallows, and continues to keep eye contact with neil.
“most guys know my name there, it was noth-”
“where is it?” neil cuts him off.
“where’s what?” playing dumb hasn’t really worked for him before, but billy’s willing to try again.
“where’s the letter, billy.” neil’s not asking anymore. billy can feel his palms getting clammy.
“i threw it out.” billy wishes his voice didn’t waver, that he could keep his shit together, but he can feel himself breaking under the weight.
neil looks at him for a second longer before walking with purpose straight to billy’s room. billy quickly pushes his chair out and follows him, almost running into his back when neil stops dead in the doorway.
“you tell me where the letter is, or i tear apart this room until i find it. your choice, son,” neil doesn’t even bother turning around to say it to his face.
billy closes his eyes and thinks about the letter currently burning a hole in his pocket, ‘i’ve never stopped fighting for you’ flashing in his memory, and suddenly the anger that left him earlier is back full force.
“I don’t. fucking. have it,” he spits out.
neil finally turns to him and raises an eyebrow, a silent ‘you sure you wanna do this’ look, and- fuck it. his mom basically fucking hand delivered a letter to him just to tell him that she’s still out there, and she’s coming for him.
billy just raises an eyebrow back then throws his arms out in a ‘be my guest’ gesture. takes a step back so he can lean against the doorway and watch.
neil upturns everything he can get his hands on, breaks his flimsy bedside table, rips the sheets off his bed, empties out all his drawers, pulls out all his clothes. throws all his records and knickknacks on the ground. comes up empty.
billy can feel the anger running through his veins, watching his dad destroy his room and all his possessions. max and susan have came over to see what the commotion’s about and are watching on in horror.
“give me the letter, billy,” neil says slowly, breathing heavily, getting right up in billy’s space, “now.”
billy looks him dead in the eye.
“no,” he breathes out, no hesitation.
“give me the letter, now, billy!” neil slams his hand against the doorway, just above billy’s head, finally losing any calm he had.
"no," he repeats, leaning right back into his dads space, a half feral smile starting to spread across his face. his dad's so fucking mad. billy usually doesn't get this far under his skin on purpose, but god it feels good to be in control for once.
neil slides a hand down his face and takes a deep breath before straightening up, focusing back on his son.
"give me your car keys," neil says, holding his hand out expectantly.
billy grinds his jaw before reaching a hand around and grabbing his keys from the shelf by the door, smacking them down in neil's hands.
neil shoves past him and makes his way outside, the whole family following. billy catches sight of max's face, her wide eyes, and clenches his hands at his sides. if she had just kept her fucking mouth shut.
by the time billy and the girls make it out the front, neil's already tore into every compartment of his car.
"i told you, i don't have it," billy repeats again.
"neil, honey, he say's he doesn't have it, maybe-," susan tries, but neil's not having it.
"empty your pockets," neil says, climbing out of the camaro and walking right up to billy, leaving barely a space between them.
"empty. your. pockets," he repeats, slowly, quietly, dead calm.
billy lifts his chin a bit, glaring defiantly, but he can feel his heart pick up the pace, and sweat start to gather on his forehead.
he empties his pockets.
places his pack of smokes, his lighter, a two day old receipt, and a ring that he took off earlier onto his dads hands. waits.
neil looks down at what billy's discarded and silently fumes. billy clenches his jaw, then breathes out a quiet, "i don't have it."
his father holds his gaze before nodding.
"okay."
he moves past billy, past susan and max, and heads back to his armchair.
"fix up your room, it's a mess," then looks at susan and gestures to the fridge. she instantly gets the message and quickly moves to grab him out a beer.
max looks between them all like she doesn't understand what just happened, and billy can't fucking deal with this. he heads back to his room, getting ready to try salvage what he can.
doesn’t dare bring the letter out from its hiding spot, doesn’t even touch a hand to that pocket, just in case his dad can just sense it.
thinks, prays, that that’ll be the end of it. that neil would actually let it go.
he should’ve known better.
they sit down for dinner the next night, and no one’s mentioning what happened yesterday, but it’s sitting heavily in the air. max still looks like she’s trying to figure out what the fuck happened, susan looks like she’s trying to pretend everything’s normal, like nothing’s out of the ordinary, and his dad digs into his food like he does every other night, like he didn’t lose his absolute shit the night before. billy falls for it, believing for just a few minutes that his dad’s moved past it.
it’s when his dad’s finished his dinner that the other shoe finally drops.
“i talked to my boss today,” he starts, “and there’s a job opening in a different warehouse. we leave on friday.”
susan looks speechless, and max looks livid, but billy can feel the floor slipping out from underneath him.
“neil. what-” susan starts, before trailing off uselessly, before finally picking her next question. “where?”
“hawkins,” neil responds, wiping at his face with a cloth before pushing his plate away, “indiana.”
“what the fuck?” billy drops his knife and fork and throws a hand out, “indiana?”
“indiana? indiana?” max yells, completely disregarding neil and throwing all her anger at her mother.
“neil, we should talk about this, i mean-” susan tries, but falls silent when neil shoots her a look.
“we move,” he levels them all with a look, one at a time, “on friday. no questions.”
“what about my dad? what about my friends?” max bites out, levelling neil a look right back.
billy feels like he can’t fucking breathe, wants to tell her that neil doesn’t give a flying fuck about her dad, couldn’t care less about keeping them separated - just look at the situation they’re in now - but theres a lump in his throat, and he doesn’t think he could talk right now if he tried.
“phones exist, maxine” neil responds, ending the conversation there and then, pushing his chair out and heading to the living room.
susan has her head in her hands but quickly picks herself up and tries to do damage control with max, even if max doesn’t seem to be having a bar of it.
billy’s fucking shaking. doesn’t even know where to begin to fix this. there was no phone number in the letter, no forwarding address, no contact information. just his mom telling him she’s trying, she’s doing everything she can.
there’s only gonna be so much she can do if neil drags him half way across the fucking country.
he’s only had the hope of his mother coming back into his life for just over a day and he’s already grown so attached to the idea that the thought of it no longer happening has him spiralling in ways he’s never felt before.
fuck.
(they move on the friday. arrive on a sunday. billy builds his new room from the ground up, his bed frame and mattress along side a few items of clothes and bedside table objects being the only survivors of neils rampage. everything else he improvises or goes without. 
him and max are on the outs. billy unable to see past his own rage and grief, and so so quick to blame, and max just as angry and emotional as he is, but with only half the picture, fully ready to give it right back.
billy hoping and praying that somehow, his mum figured out that neil moved them. that she knows where he is, how to find him. but the longer he goes without another letter, the more it sinks in that it’s too late. the small window they had is closed. 
neil watches him like a hawk now, makes him chauffeur max around town, keeps on top of him about his grades, his extra curricular activities. their new house in hawkins is bigger, but billy’s never felt so trapped.
max has a bat in her hands, and billy was standing, but now he’s on the floor, and there’s other kids around cheering her on, there’s blood on his hands, and this isn’t the night billy had planned, but this is the night billy got. he listens to her tell him to stay away, watches as she swings the bat, hears her yell ‘say it’, can feel whatever the fuck she injected him with running though his veins, and wants to scream.
he didn’t realise how much of neil got to her, too. wishes neil got to her in the same way he got to him, that she would just fucking understand, then hates himself for it. 
that’s the one thing that him and sue can agree on, that max stays out of it.
they settle on a truce eventually. billy so fucking tired, can’t hold onto the constant anger anymore, and max never really knowing the real reason they were fighting to begin with. the older she gets, the more of the picture she sees, but they never show her all the colours, and she’s already discovered her own monsters in this town, she can’t handle the idea of them living in her own home, so she tries her hardest to look the other way.
it’s not easy though, and it doesn’t take much for the illusion to shatter.
her and billy going from having a truce, to having an actual understanding. she’s still none the wiser about his mother, and billy’s never gonna just open up and spill his guts, but she knows enough. has had one or two of her own run-ins with neil. knows how to read the room now from the second she steps in the house, the way billy’s always been able to. 
he’s not actually that bad of a brother to have, now that she’s finally getting to know him.
that’s the only thought going though her head, when she watches him stand up to the mindflayer.
she watches him take on an inter-dimensional monster, a monster that el can only fight with her supernatural powers, that will had to get burned out of him, a monster that can tear apart the literal fabric of the universe, and thinks, he was never actually that bad of brother, when she finally started to understand him. 
sees him use nothing but his bare hands to fight back, to save el and her, to save all of them, and wants to throw up. her minds screaming at her to run towards him, to pull him away, for them all to run, but she can’t fucking move, all she can do is watch.
the monster finally falls, but so does billy, and when max’s feet finally find movement, she’s running to his side as fast as she can. she begs and pleads and cries, trying so fucking hard to help get him through this, but all he does is look at her, tears in his eyes and and covered in blood, and chokes out an i’m sorry. 
max feels his last breath leave him, and feels the second his heart stops beating and thinks, i’ll never get the chance to fully know him, now.
billy’s written out to be a hero in the local news reports, saving them all from a tragic fire, and everyone around town offers their condolences every chance they get. max wants to hit something. she dreads going out, doesn’t wanna see a single pitying look. has stopped answering the front door, doesn’t wanna eat another fucking casserole from patricia, who lives two houses down, who’s married to harry, who accused billy of stealing his garden shit like once a fucking week, getting billy in the shit with neil, constantly.
a month passes, and things are tense. neil’s drinking more than ever, having lost his job just two days after billy’s funeral. her mum’s trying to keep things together, but there’s only so much she can do when nobody else is willing. 
max sure as fuck isn’t about to try and play happy families.
it’s on a thursday night when the doorbell rings, and max tightens the grip on her fork.
“you’d think they’d have run out of recipes to try on us,” max mutters dully, before shoving some mash potato in her mouth.
“ignore it,” neil says to susan, completely disregarding max, before going back to his own dinner.
the doorbell rings again, and then again a third time, and a fourth time. susan grows tenser with every bell that chimes, and max looks between both adults, waiting to see who’ll break first.
neil slams his knife and fork down on the table before shoving his chair out and storming towards the door, ripping it open. susan follows quickly, and max rolls her eyes before following as well. it’s been at least a week since the last neighbour tried to shove food at them, and maybe it might be some baked goods from mrs. taylor this time. at least she can actually bake.
max doesn’t recognise the person at the front door, but it’s clear neil does.
she has long wavy blonde hair, terrified eyes, and looks like she’s ready to go to war.
“where is he?” she asks, her arms folded and hands white knuckling in their grip. “he’s eighteen now, you can’t keep me away.”
max feels her stomach sink.
“he’s been eighteen for months now,” neil says back, monotonous.
max watches the terrified look get overshadowed by anger.
“do you have any idea how long it took me to find you, to find him, after you up and left?” she takes a stop forward and throws a hand out, giving neil a filthy look before breathing out and looking away.
her eyes have turned to water, and max watches as she wipes at her eyes the exact same way billy did when neil got him to turn to water at the kitchen table.
“well,” neil starts, some emotion creeping back into his voice, “you’re too fucking late.”
neil slams the door in her face.)
(billy’s mum sticks around, because she refuses to leave without answers, not after searching for her baby for almost eleven years, and now, finally getting so fucking close she could touch.
she can’t touch, though, because there’s six feet of earth between them. her baby boy’s in a wooden box, buried deep underground, with dead flowers at his grave- flowers that have probably been there since the day of his funeral - because no one’s been to visit him.
she touches his headstone gently, traces the words ‘gone but not forgotten’ with her fingertips, and she’s spent the entire time since susan tried to brokenly explain everything denying it, but right here, looking at his grave, she can’t anymore. once the first tear slips, they don’t stop.
susan stands a small distance away, max just beside her, and feels the guilt and smallest hint of relief crush her. 
guilt at never knowing who this person was, never even knowing she was trying to reach out. guilt for accepting everything neil every told her without question or fight. guilt for every occasion she looked the other way, the way she complied every time neil said he’d parent his son, and she’d parent her daughter. 
guilt at the bone-deep relief that it’s billy in the grave, and not max. 
susan still doesn’t know what happened for sure that night, all the details never quite adding up, but the only solid thing max would give her was that billy saved her. billy died to save them all.
one time, susan spent some of their savings on fixing the kitchen sink. when neil got home and saw the little money jar on the bench emptier than when he’d left for work, he instantly accused billy. it has been the last day of school that day, with no commitments to be at for at least a week. 
neil didn’t hold back. 
billy tried to reason that he wouldn’t be stupid enough to try and steal money from the extremely obvious savings jar, especially when he already had a job and income of his own, but the more billy denied it, the angrier neil got.
neil didn’t get violent with billy in front of her often, but he seemed to be on a hair trigger that night, and susan didn’t know where to even begin to try stop it.
she tried to step in gently, to tell neil that it was her, that the sink needed some maintenance. he didn’t listen to a word she said. she gave up without a fight.
it wasn’t until later that night that susan found out that neil’d got his second warning at work, one more warning and he’d be fired. he claimed he didn’t deserve the warnings, that saving money didn’t mean cutting corners, just meant he knew how to do his job efficiently. his boss didn’t agree. 
she tried to justify it to herself that billy probably would’ve copped it that night either way.
billy came out to the kitchen the next morning with a swollen face and a barely noticeable limp and got himself a glass of water. turned the tap on with extra force since it’d been fucking up lately, only for it to turn on without any effort at all, no noise or clunks either. he turned to look at susan, look at the money jar, then clenched his jaw and abandoned his still full cup in the sink, and locked himself up in his room, his music blaring just a second later. 
he barely acknowledged her for a week.
now, as she stands back and watches his mother weep, she thinks she may never be able to forgive herself.
thinks that if someone ripped max away from her, and she finally found her again after searching for basically max’s entire life, only to find her in a casket, after living with someone so spineless they couldn’t even protect her, that she would never be okay again.)
(max not knowing how to talk to billy’s mum. leaving the room every time she enters it. not knowing how to handle the fact that she’s alive, and billy’s dead, and she just stood back and watched. 
just wanting to go to sleep and never wake up on the nights she stays up too late thinking about how she stood by and watched him die a slower and more painful death long before the mind flayer ever came into the picture.
billy’s mum’s not having it, is the thing. 
she’s read the articles, listened to the towns people talk. heard all praise about her sons heroics as well as the quiet re-tellings of his delinquent ways. listened to the whispers about his reckless california driving, his dangerous and careless attitude, only for them to paste a sympathetic smile on their face when she rounds the corner, muttering about how he died too young, was taken too soon. the police telling her how this town lost a lot of people that night, but her sons final actions saved more than he could ever know, except they say his name like they’re pushing it through gritted teeth, and she wants to scream. her baby boy died to save his little sister and her friends, and this town will never forgive him for being the teenager he was raised to be. 
she tries so fucking hard to talk to max at every given chance, just so she can hear about him though her eyes.
max cracks eventually. she leans into the part of her that billy carved out and shaped himself, the side of her that jumps straight to anger and rage and disbelief. yells at his mum for leaving him in the first place, of fucking up her only son beyond belief, then after watching his mum take it so fucking gracefully and so fucking deeply, turning on herself. spits out about how much of a shit show this family really was. how she was just his shitty little sister. how they hated each other most days, and had only just started to get along. how she never should've been in that mall in the first place, and billy sure as hell shouldn’t have been there either. how he never should have died, especially the way he did, because he was never meant to be a part of it to begin with. how it’s her fault. how she could have, should have, saved him, but she froze up, because she was scared, she was fucking terrified, and so billy took it, and now he’s dead. and it’s all her fault.
when she finally looks back at his mum, there’s tears streaming down her face, and she has a hand over her mouth trying to stifle any sobs, but she’s still looking at max with such fucking soft eyes, and then she’s slowly walking towards her with her arms open wide, and max is falling into them and breaking down before she can think of running away.
billy’s mum carding a hand through her hair and telling her that it’s okay, that she’s gonna be okay, that it’s not her fault. starts telling her about how billy’s always been a do first, think later person, that he’s had the biggest heart she ever knew since the second he came into her life. how he use to try and protect her from neil, no matter the consequence. that he’s been protecting his family since before he even knew what it meant, or that he was even doing it. it was just how he was. how that’s how she knows max must’ve been important to him, because she still doesn’t quite know what happened in that fire, but she knows in her heart that billy knew exactly what he was doing in his last moments, and it was making sure max got home safely, and that’s probably all that mattered to him. that max made it home.
she was family to him, and therefore max was family to her.
she’s gonna spend the rest of her life with regrets and a sadness so deep that it’ll never be moved, but she got to meet the person, and the people, that billy died saving, and it’s never gonna be the same as the future she had dreamed about, the one she’s spent the past eleven years planning, but this is all she’s got. she’s gonna miss her son until her last breath, but she’s so so so fucking happy that billy had someone in his life that he cared about so deeply, he was willing to give it all up for her.)
(billy’s mum visiting his grave every chance she gets, and starting off every visit with an apology. telling him about the first time she held him in her arms, how he changed her life forever, and how she promised him that they’d both make it out of this life alive. how she’s so so so fucking sorry she failed him, and she was gonna spend the rest of her life making it up to him. 
updating him on max and susan, about how neil left, just fucking walked out one day, taking most the money with him, but it’s okay, cos she offered up the spare room and the pull out couch in her trailer to them, and max is now claiming part time custody of the neighbours dog. 
tells him about how max told her about the time he tried to teach her to surf, and she was so so so bad at it, but he kept dragging her out into the waves after spending what felt like hours on the shore teaching her the steps, and finally it clicked, and max still remembers the look on billy’s face the first time she caught her first wave. remembers how he fucking laughed at her when she inevitably wiped out.
tells him how susan seems to walk on eggshells around her, thanking her everyday for giving them a place to stay, and how once she’s back on her feet, they’ll be out of her hair. how she has her suspicions about why susan looks at her with such guilt in her eyes, but she knows what it’s like to be married to neil hargrove, and while there’s a part of her that’s so so so angry, she fucking gets it. she understands it in the most horrifying way possible, and she’s already made her peace with it.
she’s just so fucking sorry that billy spent so long thinking it was him against the world. that she abandoned him, that max had someone love her enough in the house to keep her safe, but billy believed he had no one.
she tells him that max gave her his jacket, and after not being able to hold it without crying for the first month, she finally had a proper look at it. how she found the note in a secret pocket on the inside of the chest. the letter she wrote to him, what feels like so long ago now, looking a little worse for wear, like it had been folded up and clenched tightly every single day, a couple of watermarks blurring some of the words. pulls out the only picture she has on him from when he was so so little, a toddler on her hip, them both grinning in the sun and sand. how its creased to hell and back and so fucking faded that you cant even tell the colour of her hat, but his smile lights up the picture anyway, and how most days, it was the only thing getting her through. how she hoped with everything she has that he was happy, but that if he wasn’t, that she gets it. and she’s so fucking sorry. and that one day, she’ll see him again, and she can’t fucking wait.)
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natjennie · 4 months
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there is just something about big black car by gregory alan isakov that is sooooo capvers. as if it's my fault.
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halcyonramblings · 2 years
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Letters I Can Never Send, No. 2
Dear D,
“I dig your Pikachu.”
I was sitting stretched across the loveseat in my parents’ living room when the chat window appeared.  I have to say, I was surprised.  It wasn’t unusual for me to get Facebook messages from boys, but very few ever caught my attention.  When I saw your name, though, my heart skipped a beat and then resumed at twice its normal pace.  I can remember thinking you were just being friendly.  Perhaps you just liked Pokemon.  There was no way you could have had any interest in a shy, socially awkward, voluntarily starving high school junior.
I racked my brain for a clever response.  I do not remember what I said.  I could find it; I still have all of our old Facebook conversations, but I’m not and may never be ready to venture down that rabbit hole.  I’m not that much of a masochist.  Whatever I replied with, we kept the thread going for a few more beats and then the conversation fizzled out.  I didn’t message you again that night.
The next night, as I lay in the same spot, you reached out to me again.  You playfully gave me grief for not replying to your last message.  The conversation picked back up and we talked a bit longer that night.
Then came the music.  You started sending me songs.  I had never explored music much; I typically listened to whatever was on the radio and the classic rock albums my parents liked.  You vowed to educate me on what “real music” was.  You would sometimes send me whole playlists: Motion City Soundtrack, Weezer, Coldplay, Death Cab for Cutie, and dozens of lesser-known indie bands.  As I listened to them, I would send you commentary on what I thought of each song.  You introduced me to so many different genres and artists, including The Killers who still to this day remain my favorite band.
Soon, those stilted conversations deepened into late-night talks where we discussed everything from God to philosophy to sex and then back to God.  I wanted to meet up and spend time together in person.  You kept saying, “Soon.”  My parents said, “He’s too old for you.”  I said, “We know his family.  They are nice.  He is nice.  He isn’t going to hurt me.”
In January, they relented.  They said you could come over so that they could meet you, and that we could watch a movie in the well-lit living room with them elsewhere in the house.  And so one Friday night I answered the door and there you stood, wearing a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, carrying a pizza and a copy of Stranger than Fiction that you’d rented from a Redbox.  The first thing that struck me was how gorgeous you were, standing two feet from me, that dimple on your cheek showing and your blue eyes made brighter by the golden glow of the porch light.  The second was how soft spoken you were.  It occurred to me that I had never heard your voice.
After the awkward introductions and small talk, I shooed my parents from the room and started the DVD.  We sat at opposite ends of the couch and barely said a word to one another throughout the entire movie.  Face-to-face, we found that we were both very shy.  I fidgeted in my seat, messing with my hair and tugging at my shirt sleeves, my palms sweaty.  You nervously laughed at inappropriate times.  When you left that night, I was sure that I would never hear from you again.
A couple of weeks later, to my surprise, you came over again.  Same deal, but we talked a bit more.  That night, when I walked you to the door, I got brave.  Right before you left, you turned to face me.  I tentatively put my arms around your neck and looked up into your beautiful eyes, compelling you to lean into me.  To my immense disappointment, you smiled gently and shook your head.  “Not yet,” you whispered, pulling me in for a hug instead.
After that, my parents came to the conclusion that you were neither a serial killer nor a daughter impregnator, and finally allowed me to go to the movies with you.  You picked me up in your ninety-something Pontiac.  You reached out and took my hand as we walked across the parking lot and into the movie theatre.  We were still very bashful together in person even though our text conversations had become even deeper.  At the end of the night, we pulled into my driveway and the air suddenly felt too thick to breathe.  We turned to face each other, and with shaky hands, we leaned across the car’s center console.  When our lips met, it was awkward; you went into it open mouthed and I went into it closed, intending to work my way into it.  Your hand trembled as it grazed the side of my face.  The whole thing probably only lasted a couple of seconds, but even now when I think about it, I go weak in the knees and get that jittery feeling in my stomach.
I floated into the house and fell into bed, letting my mind run wild imagining what we would do if you were there in the sheets with me, and then the next day
Radio silence.
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rosaacicularis · 1 year
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which was more culturally significant, the renaissance or hermitgang
#it all started when grian touched my redstone he played himself like a xylophone set on automatic doc monster is a savage with technical#skills and crazy vocal acrobatics i’m a legend of the nho with etho beef and double o docmc is coming for you seven fold i got rendog and#other firemen to douce the flames that you shoot at this leviathan iskall can try again you think i’m in hiding i’m just biding my time#putting pen to paper coming up with rhymes were the star studded group got together just to crush you once we start something you know were#going to see it through i’m the knight the soldier who brings the fight at first light y’all had to incite so now i gotta indict you’re#guilty of getting murdered with words y’all are outgunned go home nerds hermitgangx16 if you think you can stop the symmetry that’s false#gteam is dialling for help but i’m in ignoring their calls and when their bodies dissolve you know that false’s on a killing spree try to#stop my pvp and perish painfully i’m the queen of hearts heads and body parts your diamond armour can’t compare to my martial arts i’ll#send a poison dart to make you breath your final breath gteams name will be the only thing left caffeinated animated redstone innovator my#behaviour’s crazy can’t phase me impulse is never lazy tango why would you betray now my scope is aiming better run from cover from all the#ghast balls that i be taming without a sound without no hesitation my creations are amazing better watch your step or the gteam will end up#blazing whos the better team there is no controversy but before it’s said and done y’all be begging us for mercy hermitgangx16 x gone give#it to ya i’m gone give it to ya x gone give it to ya what lyrical boxing dropping blows on all my foes and the gteam they’re looking#unclean needing some sunscreen burnt by words this herd of nerds it’s ubsurd how my rhymes got them injured danger danger i got lasers to#cut them up like razors it’s flexing season and i got flavour their weak defenses like trenches and fences that these dense heads are#presenting they’re presenting them alright they’re not very good i could walk over them i could jump over them i could use an ender pearl i#could use my elytra come one gteam geez hermitgangx16 now i’m back and i got some things i wanna say what’s the letter that starts the#alphabet a ladies get it line the diggity be on the way cleo don’t know who she freaking with all the signs say to notify her next of kin#this digitty dog be dropping bombs nothing but hits spit that line again brrr cause the message is i could mumble rap and still be the best#there is hermitgangx16 oh you wanted me to do a verse i’ll have to check with gteam i mean i’ll have to check my schedule to see if i can#see if i’m able to do that sort of thing busy guy lots of things to do oh do averse bananas do a verse bananas i just don’t know if it’s a#good idea for me to a part of this song really#i just typed all of that out from memory im a little bit insane i think
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nitw · 6 months
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why do you gotta tell me the same thing THRICE if it's still not out for delivery!!
#leo.txt#it's EXACTLY 15 kilometers away from my home by car! i checked!!!!!! you are so unserious i swear to god#fedex denmark do you not deliver on thursdays or fridays??? hm???? im pretty sure you do??????????????#like come on im this close to just walking out to your storage facility and pick it up by myself! and i'm a lazy asshole with adhd!!!!#denmark is so teeny tiny you could just like THROW THE THING and ill catch it with my mouth like a dog with a frisbee ITS NOT THAT HARD#this package is essential to my life! not really! but you ARE actively killing and murdering me and kicking me in the nuts by withholding i#and yknow what????? you guys don't even deliver it to my house half the time anyway!!! you just get confused because theres 2 doors#and youre like 'lol whatever not my problem' and send it to the kiosk instead!#BUT you never even send it to the NEAREST KIOSK THAT'S LIKE 2 SECONDS AWAY#you ALWAYS send it to the one that's WAYYYYY FURTHER AWAY FOR SOME REASON#what did the other poor storeowner do to you??? why do you hate and mistreat both of us so? isn't life hard enough as it is?#we literally PRINTED OUT A SIGN and TAPED IT TO THE GLASS OF /BOTH FRONT DOORS/#with INSTRUCTIONS FOR MAILMEN#telling you that if the package is too big to fit in the mailbox to the rightmost entrance#then just CALL THE DOORPHONE and you'll immediately be let inside#so you can leave it in the entrance!!!!#WE MADE YOU A SIGN! IT'S FOR YOU!!!! THAT WAS SO NICE OF US#and yet you still just leave us in the dust (THE DUST???) (the DUST.......)#and whenever one of my packages gets sent to the kiosk anyway IT OFTEN TAKES SEVERAL DAYS FOR MY LETTER OF NOTICE TO ARRIVE#/AS A PHYSICAL PAPER LETTER. IN THE MAIL. BY YOU/#LITERALLY 1984#SEND POST
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xylamalkoshan · 8 months
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August 30. Nung araw na ito nang nakaraang taon, ako ang pinakamasaya. Nakaimpake ang gamit, ikaw ang nasa isip. Sinabi mong mahal mo ako at di na nga nag dalawang isip. Ikaw at ikaw, araw araw. Parang tanga, marinig lang ang boses mo'y tuwang tuwa. Ngiti sa labi ay di mapawi, ikaw lang ang gustong makatabi.
August 30. Sa araw na ito, hindi sigurado ang nararamdaman. Akala ko magdidiwang ng isang taon, yun pala'y mag isa na ako. Nakaimpake ang gamit, ikaw pa rin ang nasa isip. Ikaw at ikaw, araw araw. Parang tanga, kaytagal nang umaasang marinig ang boses mo kahit ayaw mo na. Ngiti sa labi ay matagal nang napawi, ngunit ikaw pa rin ang gustong makatabi.
Naiisip mo pa ba ako? Pasensya na kung hanggang ngayon ay bilanggo pa rin ako ng pag ibig mong hindi man lang nagtagal. Sinusubukan kong lumaya, maniwala ka. Ngayong gabi ilang baso ng alak muna ang katapat, sana bukas limot ko na ang dapat.
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logically-asexual · 1 year
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This moment is very ridiculous and just for the comedy until you learn that’s literally Franz Kafka writing romantic letters 😭
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