#so much to do. so much yet unsaid and undone. in all aspects of my life. i'm not sure what to do first. it hurts. i'm tired. i'm sorry

[colormeyondublue]

Chapter 12: Cards With The Boys (NSFW)

Chapter 11 Here

After confessing his love for you, you decide it was about time to move in with the Captain. It didn’t take long to get your things together because you don’t have much. After getting settled in the Captain’s quarters, you felt your heart soar at how for you two have come.

Later, you sit at your desk in your office tying up some loose ends, day dreaming of Yondu, and of going back to Earth. There isn’t much work to be done, but the peacefulness of your office brings you a sense of normalcy that you dearly missed. While you made sure your data drives were totally backed up and in working order, your door opens quietly. You glance behind you to see Yondu’s handsome face. You turn back to your computer and tell him you’ll be done in just a second.

“Do ya really gotta be working right now? Ya work all the damn time. There ain’t even much that needs done right now anyway! The crew’s gonna be on leave fer a few weeks while we’re gone.”

“I work because I like to!” You protest. “Besides, I’m almost done. Hold your horses.”

“Ya still never explained ta me what a horse even is ya know.” Yondu huffs as he sits down on the couch in your office.

You sigh and shake your head. You never imagined you’d have to explain to an adult what a horse was, but here you are. You eject the data drive and throw it in the drawer of your desk. “A horse, is a large mammalian quadruped with both binocular and monocular vision. They can weigh anywhere between 800 to 1,800 – sometimes 2,000 pounds! They’ve been used by my people as a source of food, labor, transportation and companionship for thousands of years. They’ve helped Terrans in every aspect of life, and nothing that we’ve accomplished to this point could have been done without their help. They’ve fought in our wars, and carried entire countries on their backs at times. In modern times they are primarily pets, used to work livestock, or ridden in competition.”

The captain rubs his chin for a moment. “What’s a pound?”

You stare at him blankly for a good few moments before it dawns on you. You are going to have to explain a lot to Yondu when you get to Earth. There is so much that he still doesn’t know about.

“A pound is just a unit of measurement. It’s used in some countries to quantify how much something weighs. It’s directly related to Earth’s gravitational pull. You know as well as I do that something on Krylor wouldn’t weigh the same as it would on Xandar, right?

“Yeah, I know that. But pounds is just what ya’ll call it?” He asks.

“Well…in some places. In others they might measure weight a little differently. But that’s a whole other conversation for another time. How about I just show you a horse when we get to Earth?” You chuckle.

“Sounds like a plan ta me. But anyway, what I came down here for was ta ask ya if ya wanted to play cards with me and the boys?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s already getting kind of late, and I don’t know how to play.”

Yondu stands up from where he’s sitting and approaches you. He steps behind you and gently gathers your hair to one side of your neck. He bends down to place light, seductive kisses up and down your neck before murmuring in your ear, “Come on baby, I ain’t seen ya all day. It’ll just be a few hands, and I wanna show you off to my men for a while. Show ‘em what’s mine.” He continues to kiss you along the length of your neck, and he begins to pull your sleeve down your shoulder to taste a little bit more of your skin. You can’t stop your breaths from coming in deeper and slower. Yondu never fails to make you melt in his hands.

“Alright, alright. You talked me into it. But that mouth of yours just isn’t fair. You cheated and you know it!”

Yondu laughs and gives you a smug grin as he points to himself, “Uhh, Ravager? Not to mention, I’m a Ravager Captain. I see somethin’ I want, and I take it. Including you.” He tugs you closer by your waist and kisses you hard and heavy.

You pull away after a few moments and ask, “Okay, so do you want to get some or go play cards? I’m not sure that we have time for both.”

He growls in annoyance at your point. “Damn. Ya might be right. Let’s go.”

~~~

You both sit down at the poker table in the ship’s bar with Yondu, Kraglin, Oblo, Tullk, and Geff. These guys have honestly become your closest friends, and you were happy to have a drink with them and learn to play card games. You were learning a Xandarian game that is similar to Black Jack, except there’s more suits and the cards are octogons. It’s a little confusing at first, but you catch on pretty quick. A few hands in, Tullk asks you if you’re excited to see Terra again.

“Yeah! I can’t wait to see the trees and breathe in the air. I miss our sunsets and forests. I miss the songs the birds sing. I miss the smell of the rain. But I think I miss our blue skies even more.” You smile softly and glance over at Yondu. He smiles back and offers you a quick wink as he takes a swig of his beer. He pulls you closer to him with one firm tug on your seat, and throws his arm over the back of your chair.

“Sounds like a neat place to me!” Geff chimes in as he looks over his hand.

“Got any idea of what your plan might be? What are you gonna do first?” Oblo asks.

“Well…I guess I’ll try to find my mom first. I think she would still live in the same place. I can’t imagine she would move. It’s only been a few years. Then once I find her, I’ll get in touch with my sister. But when it comes to introducing them to Yondu – well, I think I’m gonna have to explain a few things first. Ease them into it. Ya know? I know a place where Yondu can lay low until everything is calmed down. Being kidnapped by an alien race and then shipped out all over the galaxy isn’t going to be easy to explain.” You rub your temple lightly. It didn’t occur to you just how much of a shock your return might be.

“So Tullk, have you ever thought about going back?” You ask, hoping it’s an innocent enough question.

“Nah, not me lass. There isn’t anythin’ left fer me on our planet. I’m happy here with the crew. Mah life back on Terra was a little rough. Got in with some men who were less than savory. Joined Yondu’s crew an’ never looked back.”

The rest of the game you listen to Kraglin and Oblo’s banter back and forth, and wonder to yourself what kind of people Tullk got involved with. You figure that some things are better left unsaid, and as long and he’s happy here, that’s enough for you. Once the game is over, Kraglin gets the cards together and everyone heads in for the night. As you’re walking toward the door, Yondu grabs your hand.

“Hey honey, me ‘n Krags are gonna go over a few things around the ship fer when you and I leave tomorrow. I’ll meet you back at ma quarters?”

“Sure thing, but don’t be too long.” You stand on your tip toes to kiss him on the cheek, and head toward the Captain’s quarters.

~~~

You’re playing your list of songs on your personal playlist while you pack for the trip. You find out that there are thousands of songs you hadn’t listened to yet. You had no idea at first, but these data devices Kraglin uses have seemingly endless storage. You were getting a little buzzed, having gotten into Yondu’s whiskey stash at his minibar. A little celebration was in order since you were going back to Earth with Yondu. You were dancing hazily to Fantasy by Mariah Carey. Yondu walks back toward his cabin door, hears some muffled song and smirks to himself. As quietly as possible, he opens the door to find you dancing drunkenly to the music. He enters the room and you don’t even notice his presence as you continue to dance and sing. He creeps into the room and sits down in his recliner, interested in just watching you.

As much of a goofy drunk as you are, he smiles to himself. You might just be the best thing that ever happened to me, girl.  

The song changes over to Love On The Brain by Rhianna. Although your playlist has a ton of different songs, music was something that always resonated with you, and you liked almost anything. With the lyrics of the song carrying you away, you feel large, warm hands on your hips as you sway to the music. Immediately knowing who is feeling you up, you lean into his body and he begins to sway with you. He brings his lips to your neck and kisses you slowly. His lips kiss and part from your neck over and over, and it makes your core ache as warmth spreads through your limbs. Letting go, you fall into him even more, surrendering yourself to him. His hands begin to wander over your body, feeling your hips and thighs. You let out a few breathy moans, and your knees grow weak. While still facing away from him, you bring up your arms and wrap them around his neck as he teases your ear with his tongue. He notices that his bottle of Krylorian Whiskey is almost half empty, and you are way past buzzed at this point.

Baby you got me like ah, woo, ah Don't you stop loving me (loving me) Don't quit loving me (loving me) Just start loving me (loving me)

Oh, and baby I'm fist fighting with fire Just to get close to you Can we burn something, babe? And I run for miles just to get a taste Must be love on the brain That's got me feeling this way (feeling this way) It beats me black and blue but it fucks me so good And I can't get enough Must be love on the brain yeah And it keeps cursing my name (cursing my name) No matter what I do, I'm no good without you And I can't get enough Must be love on the brain

The beat carries you both to his bed and he continues his loving assault on your torso and neck. At this point, the room is spinning a little, and the next thing you see is a gorgeous blue chest, and your captains’ pants slowly being undone. You are more than frisky, and the second his pants come undone, you dive into him. He doesn’t have a chance to argue, as his cock is already making its way into your mouth. He groans in response, and finds a fistful of your hair. The alcohol in your veins gives you some kind of super power and your skills with his manhood are already blowing his mind. He peers down at you with his head tilted to the side, groaning at the sensation you’re giving him. All of that whiskey has made your gag reflex vanish, and you can take him deep into your throat. He watches intently as his cock disappears into your mouth and he moans loudly. You continue to blow him out of his mind for a while longer, polishing the head every now and again. You hear him speak up, “Baby girl, I’m gonna cum if ya don’t stop.”

You look up him momentarily, roll your eyes with pleasure and moan on his cock. You’ve got him exactly where you want him. In a few more minutes, he spits out a string of curses at the intensity of his orgasm. “Oh, fuckin’ hell – yes! Shit….mmmhmm.” He pushes his raging hard cock as deep into your mouth as you can stand, and cums down your throat. You slowly slide his cock out of your mouth, and sensually lick the tip clean.

“It’s even better than I expected.” You smirk up at him. His cum tastes wildly different than a human’s. It isn’t bitter at all. It’s still slightly salty, but it’s also a little sweet and nutty. The taste was completely unexpected, and you almost couldn’t believe it. You tease his sensitive cock with your tongue to make it jump. “Oh, fuck. Ya might be more than I can handle when you drink like that.” He huffs out a laugh and collapses on the bed. “Alright, yer turn sugar.”

“No, it’s okay. I just wanted to make you feel good. I want to show you how much you mean to me. I don’t need anything. This was more than enough for me.” You kiss him lovingly, and snuggle into his side.

“I love you y/n. Ya really are an amazin’ woman. A damn whiskey bandit, but amazin’.”

~~~

The next morning, Yondu is still in bed with you. He wakes you up slightly by wrapping his strong arms around you and he pulls you as close as he can. You never thought in a million years that Yondu would be a cuddler, but in the privacy of his cabin he usually turned into a huge teddy bear.

“Good morning, handsome.” You mumble.

“Mornin’, sugar. Guess what?” He asks.

“What?”

“Today’s the day.” He says as he gently rubs your legs.

You push up on your arms quickly and look around the room. Today’s the day?! Oh my gosh, today’s the day!” You jump out of bed and start to get undressed.

“Woah, wait a minute! Where you goin’? We’ve got all day, slow down girl. Come ‘ere.” He beckons you back to him before you can get your t-shirt and sweats all the way off. You smile and crawl back into bed with your captain. “I wanna spend a little more time with ma woman before we head out. It’s gonna be a long flight, and who knows how long we might hafta be apart while you get your family stuff sorted out.” He pulls you close, and you happily snuggle into his warm embrace. Yondu is the warmest, and most incredible big spoon ever. His warmth is amazing, his body is so firm and strong. His hands engulf your torso almost completely. Absentmindedly, you rub your hands along his arms as he holds you.

“I love you.” These are the only words you can come up with, and yet they barely capture your feelings for him.

“I love you too, honey.” He takes in a deep breath and sighs. Yondu is trying his best to keep his worries at bay. He’s going to take up as much time as he can with you, which is why he wants to be so cuddly. It’s almost as if he’s afraid that you could vanish from his embrace. Today was not going to be an easy one for him. The uncertainty is maddening.

#Yondu and The Secretary #yondu x reader #Yondu Udonta #gotg #gotg fanfiction #fanfic #marvel #marvel fan fiction #love #centaurian

[cyrefinn]

On passion and calculation

Headcanon time! I was thinking earlier about how I wrote Curufin four years ago and how to hit my stride with him again. At my peak activity level, it felt natural to write in his voice. I felt I knew him well. I’ve been revising the canon and revisiting also my old threads and headcanons, and I came up with this as a corollary to a few of my previous headcanon posts in which I speak of Curufin’s as being crafty (outside of the forge), thoughtful, deliberate, manipulative, etc. (e.g. here) And yet, this is not entirely accurate.

This is only part of the picture. For is not Curufin his father’s son, most like him in temper, as well as look and appearance? And is Fëanor not known to be passionate?

Curufin consciously tries to come off as always in control, and often he does act in a cold and calculating way. He certainly spends a good deal of thought and energy on thinking what roads to take, how to optimize his choices to most efficiently achieve his goals, how to influence the things and people around him that he can to help himself. He is crafty...

But he has many strong passions, as well. His interest is easily diverted, and he loves to learn and to experiment. He will often do things out of curiosity. He will do things just because they feel good. Because he wants to. It’s the centuries-old Noldorin equivalent of considering something and then just being like, “Fuck it,” and going for it, just for the hell of it. Sometimes these things will set him back, and he will acknowledge that, and he’ll do them anyway. If asked to explain something like that, Curufin would probably say some version of that the utility he derives from the activity offsets, or even outweighs, the disutility of the strategic setback. (There’s always a logical explanation.)

And he can be moved to anger, hate, and malice much more easily than he lets on, and himself believes. Again, take Fëanor, the one who cursed and insulted Morgoth and slammed the door in his face (ref. the immortal quote, “Get thee gone from my gate, thou jail-crow of Mandos!”), the one who swore that infamous Oath, the one who burned the ships, who (to his downfall) was so eager “to come at Morgoth himself” that in battle he pressed beyond his vanguard alone and fought a bunch of Balrogs like it was his day job (“long he fought on, and undismayed, though he was wrapped in fire and wounded”).

A note in particular about the burning of the ships at Losgar. There’s a quote from The Shibboleth of Fëanor I’ve always found interesting for a number of reasons but here the only relevant part is the detail about the relationship between Fëanor and Curufin: “In the night Feanor, filled with malice, aroused Curufin, and with him and a few of those most close to Feanor in obedience he went to the ships and set them all aflame; and the dark sky was red as with a terrible dawn.” Here Curufin is the only son of Fëanor mentioned by name to participate in the burning of the ships. That’s no accident. Although in my RP I subscribe to the Silmarillion version (in which all the sons but Maedhros participate), I do draw upon the Shibboleth’s version for inspiration and information about who Curufin is.

Curufin is his father’s son. In Fëanor’s place, Curufin would likely have felt the same malice and done the same thing; in helping his father burn the ships, he probably felt some version of that malice because he loved his father and sympathized and was affine with him.

I like to think of Curufin’s conversation with Eöl as well, in which he is said to be “of perilous mood.” I always read this as “of perilous mood at the time” but it’s still interesting. Curufin is somewhat rude to Eöl in this interaction, laughing at him and giving him to understand in no unclear terms how much he dislikes and distrusts him. (Yet I note that, despite his dislike of Eöl and disapproval of his choice in spouse, Curufin nonetheless grants Eöl his life (when he might have taken it easily with impunity), his leave, and a warning: “This counsel I add: return now to your dwelling in the darkness of Nan El-moth; for my heart warns me that if you now pursue those who love you no more, never will you return thither.”) This is sloppier work than I would normally ascribe to Curufin, and it serves to underline that, when he’s in a mood, Curufin can be careless and say/do things that might be better left unsaid/undone. 

All this is to say I wonder sometimes if I focus too much on the “crafty” aspect and not enough on the fact that he is like Fëanor and, like his father, has a fire in his spirit that often masters him. I do love me some complicated characters (the more complicated, the better!), so I may start exploring this aspect of Curufin a bit more going forward. 

#headcanon #out of the forge #[if you've been wondering why I am so slow] #[it's because I haven't written curufin in literally 4 years and am a little out of practice] #[also because my job is insane but mainly this] #[it's like getting to know someone again after a long time apart]

[justjessame]

Doomed From the Start: The First Night of the Rest of Our Lives

James stayed with me.  Father had no qualms about it, and I certainly had no objections - so once we had dinner together, just the three of us - with James explaining that he would be working as a consultant for Monarch.   

“Which is what, precisely?”  I wasn’t as tense now that he was sitting with us, yet we were to be married and I felt that I should be slightly more informed.  

He took his time to explain in a way that left much unsaid.  Clearly Father and I did not have the clearance necessary for a full disclosure.  While he’s NOT saying what his new career might entail, however, he does begin to tell us about his trip - about seeing things that made me reevaluate how he felt about certain things.

“Such as?” This time it was my father who asked, since I was too busy watching James’ face, how it changed as he spoke.  From the tension that came when he realized he wouldn’t be able to be completely honest with me about Monarch to the clearing - like clouds disappearing after a stormy day and the sun coming back out - when he started to think back on the less stressful aspects of his adventure.  

His gaze met mine and he smiled.  “That maybe I can’t be expected to know every twist and turn in every evil mind,” he put down his silverware and touched my empty hand, grin growing as I linked my fingers through his.  “That innocence still exists and can be saved or protected, I just have to realize that the fix isn’t always simple or obvious.”  

We turned in soon after, Father bidding us both goodnight with a knowing smile, and I felt a flare up of the awkwardness that had come before he’d left on his trip.  One night was all we’d had - not even a full night, only a few hours - and here we were standing together in my room once more, facing one another in the dim light of my bedside lamp.  

“You look concerned,” he was studying me, not touching me, just staring down - giving me the option to move closer or pull further away.  “I -I don’t have to stay.”

Fear gripped me at the very idea of him leaving again, making the choice simple enough.  Stepping closer, his hands rose and then our lips met - clothes were falling away, and like breathing only easier it seemed, we were together on my bed.  

Hovering over me, his forehead against mine as his eyes and mine seemed incapable of looking away. His fingertips were tracing down my length while mine were busy memorizing each dip and curve of the muscles of his back.  It was as if our first time hadn’t happened at all, or was so far ago that we needed to remind ourselves of every inch of one another.  And unlike that night, tinged with darkness and angst, this time there was the promise of more, so much more.  

“You’re too far away,” I murmured, sliding my right foot up his leg, and smiling when he huffed out a soft laugh that had the warmth of his breath fanning across my face.  “Do come closer, James.”  

And he did, slipping into me as easily as a knife might through butter, as his lips met mine to capture the gasp that threatened to grow into something far louder - I might have applauded his instincts, but I was far too busy appreciating his other attributes.  How he worked so hard to keep me quiet, yet even without the noise I had no doubts at all that he was just as affected by our lovemaking as I was - his fingers, hands, lips, teeth working against my skin to both show me how much he needed me and how much every move I made in response to his own was making him come as undone as me.  

When he held me, our bodies exhausted from the exertions and built up want of one another, sleep pulling at both of us, I had no doubt that I’d wake with him wrapped around me.  Unlike that first time when Jenny’s ghost and the loss of his men hovered like the wraiths of failure and grief, reminding both of us that we were in a bubble that had to pop, this time there was no bubble.  Only our future awaited us in the dawn and both of us were more than ready to greet it. 

#captain james conrad #Captain James Conrad/original character #kong skull island #mention of smut #FLUFF AND SMUT #mention of angst

[aleatoryalarmalligator]

Life Story Part 89

For some reason both Allison and David were gone one weekend. It was a rare turn of events in which I had the entire basement to myself. I spent that weekend feeling weird, waiting for whatever was going to happen to finally happen already. I paced about. I listened to an early album of Sandy Denny's 'All Our Own Work' by Sandy Denny & the Strawbs. To me it remains one of the best and underlooked folk rock albums of all time. And I remember falling in love with Sandy Denny's voice. There is a version of the song 'Nothing Else Will Do' where she is on lead vocals. It's probably one of my top ten favorite songs. I hesitate to go ahead and call certain songs 'my song', but Nothing Else Will Do is one of my songs. It's very simple, and seems to have an upbeat 60's folk rock guitar sound, but Sandy Denny's voice is that of some  goddess, and the lyrics describe this simplistic and yet very powerful yet depressing and aching longing for something beautiful and perfect that can never be reached. If I ever die and become a ghost that haunts homes, I will be turning people's radios on and playing that song in the house at night when my victims are alone. It means that much to me.

Allison and I would listen to quite a bit of The Magnetic Fields classic '69 Love Songs', and 'I'. Every song is a love song or sorts. It's humorous, dark, flowery, wild. Every one of those songs brought me into the world of a different version of romance. I love Stephin Merritt's low voice and singing style. David found this kind of music syrupy, and wasn't particularly enthralled by The Magnetic Fields as Allison and I were/are. But for me, Stephin Merritt is kind of a hero.  I saw that not lightly – as I can generally separate certain people from what I like about them artistically. Even someone like David Bowie, who's music uplifted me in ways no other music has that position doesn't really get the title of hero to me. Stephin Merritt is a sort of kindred spirit to me. I admire his indifference, and I can identify with it. A lot of people think he's an asshole, but somehow I really don't see it – perhaps I don't get offended by the same things as other people do. He's disinterested in a lot of what's going on around him, painfully honest, and keeps to himself whenever possible. I think he's a poet. And 69 Love songs is a staple to my existence and the person I am today. They play loudly and over top the noise and mindlessness of the world at times, declaring in 69 different ways, the insane and beautifully simple crazy state of defiance against every ugly monotonous meaningless boring wretched aspect of life; being in love – in all it's horrors and joys and nostalgic longings and humor. These songs are all living breathing friends of mine that never die out or go away.

Sarah and I went to Home Depot one late windy April 1. It always seemed important to note that this was April Fool's Day. We were there to pick up some building items for the remodeling of her living room wall. In the parking lot, we saw me father – so we went up to say hello as ignoring him at this point would have been weird of course. I hadn't been to his house in about three or four weeks. Since he had started to do a little better for himself – fixing up the house – not working at the factory anymore after having been there for forty years, I wanted to quietly demonstrate that things weren't going to go back – I would be helpful but not casually let things ever go back to him feeling comfortable entirely. He didn't just get to have me at his house anymore for any old reason. He could always stop by my place briefly if I wasn't busy, but it would generally have to be with a sort of unsaid stipulation that he couldn't entirely be himself. It was how things had to be now. I don't know if he actually understood that as much as he just had to accept whatever attention we gave him.

Standing in the Home Depot parking lot, he started to tell us what he'd been up to. He had just been working on his house when someone had come to his house. Zack. Zack...just showed up, coming down from meth. Zack was paranoid, puking. He didn't even know what he was doing at my father's house. And now... my father was letting him live there. ZACK WAS NOW LIVING IN MY OLD BEDROOM. He lived in my old bedroom. Zack, the one I wrote thousands of poems for, the one I used to think about and write love letters to that I never once sent – the one I had finally gotten over, the Zack who had drunkenly tried to kiss me outside the gym in high school. That Zack. The Zack who told me I was special and he loved me 100 times. That Zack. That Zack, now lived, in my..bedroom. The real Zack.

Sarah and I were silently in a state of shock. Particularly me. Other than the fact my eyes were probably falling out of my head, aside from the fact my head exploded like the guy from the 80's horror film, Scanners, I hid my complete and utter surprise and my father carried on talking about how Zack was now his good buddy and he was going to help my father fix up his house. Sarah and my mind connection brain magic had worked! Why else was he at my old house? What had brought him there??? My father didn't know, Zack was too high to remember why he came to my father's door – perhaps he had subconsciously caught on in some altered state of consciousness. And everything I had waited for for those seven years... was now coming to pass... Zack came back to me. It was all happening NOW. This was an assault on reality. I was beyond confused. The mirror of life had shattered before my very eyes. This was, something.. I couldn't quite place. The pieces of my life that I had learned to accept as broken no longer had to be broken. Everything had come together. The story I had held onto for so long was now in fruition.

Sarah and I quickly agreed to go to Kendrick together. Since that was where Sarah already lived, I just hopped along with her and we drove back into Kendrick. We both talked a little about it. We knew this was the perfect opportunity to rebefriend Zack. When we arrived, Zack wasn't at the house yet. But I could sense his presence in every wall in the house. The air around me anticipated his presence. I didn't even know how I should actually feel – it felt more like my blood had become electric. Something beyond feeling was happening. It was hard to describe. Perhaps it is comparable to the return of some messiah. Perhaps it is like watching a comet fly to earth that will destroy life as we know it. It was a loud and yet silent sense of deterministic certainty that my life and perceptions were not what I had thought they were. Whatever happened happened, but nothing could ever be the same after this.

My father was using the upstairs kitchen for some reason. He had remodeled the little room that hadn't been used as a kitchen for fifteen years. So we were all upstairs when we heard the door downstairs creek open. I heard the familiar sound of echoing footsteps in the old entry way. Sarah and I were sitting in the corner of the room, our eyes waiting expectantly at the entrance of the make shift kitchen room. My father was standing by the sink cutting vegetables. Allison and David were sitting in the chairs at the other corner. My father was obliviously talking away – he had perhaps the least idea that anything pivotal was happening. His voice drowned out underneath the sound of static craziness that had suddenly overpowered everything I knew to be true, just about to be undone for once and forever. My hands were shaking. I felt like running but I also felt like my entire body was made of jello. There was no escaping this.

And then Zack showed up at the steps. He looked momentarily very nervous. He was tall and thin, scrappy. He wasn't the boy I once knew. He was definitely older now. As he came to the door, he looked immediately at Sarah, and then briefly towards me. We all said hello. He said hello back, and then he went into my old bedroom and shut the door. It was subtle. But it had happened.

Later on that night, he came out of his bedroom. My father was rather excited to have Zack in his house. Perhaps my father saw him as a surrogate son, a more manly cool son than David. Zack could play the guitar. He could sheet rock. My father clearly looked up to Zack in certain ways. It was too weird. How had this even happened? I kept asking myself these impossible to answer, ill defined questions that there were no answers to. It simply was. Zack was at my house. He came downstairs where my father had set up his speakers. I think my father, in his mind was hoping that Zack would be in a band with him. Rumors in town were always that Zack was a music maverick. My father had been compulsively buying all this music equipment for years, hoping some musician would want to respectfully use my father's equipment and create some tight four piece rock band that would go professional, and my father would be in part – a founder to that. It was a dream of his. I think this meant a lot for him. He wanted to have the fun of the old days when he was in a rock band – he didn't want to feel old, or like he wasted forty years slaving for a factory that ejected him once he was used up.

Zack came down, and my father asked him to play and sing House of the Rising Son. So Zack did it. We watched him in the corner as he played and he sang. He seemed much more inspired by Alice in Chains than he had been Sonic Youth and Nirvana when he was younger. And yet it was still him. I didn't know how to feel about it really, but I thought it was cool and interesting and intense. It was hard for me to be objective. It was hard for me to be anything. I couldn't process the reality of what was even happening. After he played music for a bit, and my father talked on and on, proud to have found this musician he could now feel he semi owned, Sarah started edging towards the possibility of getting Zack separated from my father. It was clear, as the tactical socializer that she was, that we weren't going to get all that close to having a meaningful dialogue with Zack unless we got him away from the chatter of my father. It was clear that he wanted to be there to oversee whatever Zack was up to, to control every aspect of Zack's presence before us all.

And I guess in a way I couldn't really blame my father. He wanted Zack to be his friend. It seemed so strange to me to watch my father pine for Zack's approval. How did we get to this place? With Zack walking around my old house – my father following behind talking away. Hadn't my father physically assaulted me for befriending Zack in high school? It made little sense to me to see it all playing out this way. I couldn't believe my father's involvement in any of this. If it really had been Sarah and I that had dragged Zack with our thoughts to my house so we could meet him and reconnect, I felt badly that my father had been used as a stepping stone to that end. But could I really feel all that bad? After all he had put me through, for him to merely be a tool to get to Zack really didn't seem all that unfair.

In any case, we were going to honor this opportunity. The fact that Zack had arrived after our psychological incantation wasn't something that we were going to take lightly – what it all meant was completely up to interpretation, but it had happened – it was real. This was the thing I had been waiting for. Sarah and I went upstairs and formulated a plan to separate Zack from our father. We decided to make like we were going to go for a walk. As soon as we got to the door, Sarah was going to tell Zack he was coming with us. She wasn't going to ask, she was going to tell. It was so forward. I never could imagine being that forward myself. If I tried it, it would have come off differently. But when Sarah was like that, people seemed to like it. We went downstairs, where my father was still talking to Zack. As soon as my father went into the kitchen, she grabbed Zack by the shirt and told him he was coming on a walk with us.

The walk was surreal. Zack towered above Sarah and I as we walked down the sidewalks which were so familiar and yet so different from when I had been young. It was dark out, with just the faintest glimpse of what had been the edge of the day left on the horizon. Sarah did most of the talking, asking questions about Zack's life. I walked behind them, contemplating every word. Zack was religious now. He was very religious. He was hoping that we were religious as well. He was on meth, but had been clean for about two weeks. He explained to us that God had brought him to the house. He was suspicious of police officers being around. He sold drugs, and he had some on him. I had been silent the entire time, but I piped up amiably and told him he could put the drugs on me. I would get in trouble for him – if it came to that.

I didn't always understand what he meant. He talked symbolically, and sometimes like people knew what he was talking about. It had a vague dreamlike quality – like it might mean something, if you thought a little bit harder about it. But that had been the way Zack was in high school too. I guess some things had not changed. Sarah was really laying a lot of questions down. I had to admire how great she was at getting people to open up. Zack had been nervous about us being there at first – he acknowledge that if he had known we would have shown up at my fathers he would have tried to not be there, but now he was grateful that he had shown up. We asked him about why he had stood us up a year before. He told us that he was scared of us. We wielded some kind of power, or something. Another vaguery. Implications of some grand spirit realm. Support to my theories that Sarah and I had brought him there.

When we got back after talking at the park for a few hours that night, Sarah, Zack and I made a pact to not lose touch. Then Sarah had gone back home, promising to come back the next day. I went and slept in the empty room on the floor downstairs. I laid in bed that night, not tired in the least. I couldn't process this. Zack  was upstairs sleeping in his new room. I felt an energy flowing through me. Everything I touched felt charged and alive. Allison lay sleeping next to me – and she might have been a million light years away from me. I was still not tired when six am rolled around. I wasn't hungry either. I wasn't anything. I was everything and nothing all at once. I had evolved somehow. The idea of eating made me sick. Food was no longer the energy I was living on. I was living off of an abundance of something else entirely. It  had all happened so fast. I couldn't process how I was feeling.

The next few days, Sarah and I hung out with Zack – we were back and better friends then maybe we ever had been in high school. My father spent most of the day talking to Zack, and we would fill in the rest of the day. I always felt mildly left out of the conversations, and I tried to understand why that was. With my father, I felt like it was because I was a girl. But with Sarah I felt like I was overshadowed by someone with more immediate and satisfying personal qualities. It felt to me as though Zack listened to Sarah and looked at her more than he did me. Sarah assured me this was not the case, and I decided it was for the best that I believed her. But something was nagging in the back of my thoughts. Shouldn't I be happy? Zack was back in our lives! Was I jealous? Why was I jealous?

Every moment of my existence felt electrified. I had never had such frantic thoughts in my life. Two days went by, and I had not slept. I nibbled on some toast one evening that Sarah gave me. I wasn't hungry yet, or tired. I felt agonized and euphoric all at the same time. My skin felt different stretched across the meat and bones of what made me who I was. Everything felt different, in so many ways I couldn't even begin to explain. Sarah seemed to be going through  a lot as well – or so it seemed. When I talked to her, we both would go on and on about how amazing it was that Zack had come back to us. I took a walk by myself one night – to reflect on everything that seemed to be happening. I couldn't shake this desperate anxious sense that something was happening all around me. Things were even more dreamlike and surreal then they had been that winter. I sat down at the Honest bench by the store. In Kendrick, there are two benches – one being by the park – called the Honesty bench, and the other being by the store, the Liars bench. I sat down at the Honesty bench, and I decided to be perfectly honest with myself. I closed my eyes, and I did everything in my power to blank out my ranting mind. I still loved Zack. I must – it was the only explanation to any of this. It felt weird in ways, not quite the way I imagined it would. It mostly didn't feel good, if I was going to be honest. I had troubles breathing. My heart was racing like I was running for my life – and it never slowed down which was partly why I wasn't sleeping. I felt as though I had no skin – there was no escape from being inside my body. It felt like I was on drugs. But it must have been love. What else could it even be. It would explain why I was feeling jealous. It explained why everything in my life had suddenly disappeared. There was almost a higher purpose to all this too, when you considered that I had known this was going to happen!  Zack was now the one who mattered the most to me.  He had come back to me.

I realized I was going to need to tell Sarah immediately. It couldn't really wait. Telling her was important because she was more or less the person who shaped the types of conversations and communications that were had between all three of us. She might not have seen her role as a sort of leader in that regard – however she was. She could help me, or accidentally hurt me, and I needed to communicate clearly what my feelings were so she could do well to be careful with them. I was going to have to be honest to Allison and to David as well. Both of them were a little bit lost. I wasn't all there anymore – I was distant. I had checked out entirely. They were very confused by it all. And now, for the first time in my life, I needed to be honest to Zack. I had never been honest to him when it had mattered. If I had been honest to him in school he might never have started using meth, which had essentially ruined his life. I couldn't find the words to tell Allison and David, so I wrote it out on a piece of paper 'I love Zack'. There it was in words. It looked so foreign and crazy to see that written down on the scrap of paper, in my own handwriting no less. I handed it apprehensively to Allison in my bedroom that night, and she handed it to David to read. They both shook their head knowingly. They had suspected as much. And of course to my father I told nothing. He seemed more desperate to keep Zack as his musician buddy. Zack was his project, and I could tell he was beginning to see Sarah's visits as a sort of threat – but he couldn't figure out what was going on.

I went up to Sarah's house and told her that night after my walk, and after I had let Allison and David know. She seemed amused in a distant sort of way. She had nothing to say about it really – nothing to ask specifically. She was silent for the most part. What she mostly seemed concerned with was me dating Zack while he was actively addicted and using meth, and that became the focus of our conversation. He had overdosed a year back. Both of us wanted him clean. It was more important than anything else. Feelings aside, we had to agree to just be his friend. I agreed. I knew I loved Zack, and that was really enough. At this point, I couldn't really imagine being intimate with Zack. It was strange. I didn't really want to be close to him like that. I wanted his approval, his attention. I wanted something from him – something I am sure that was aligned with the universe, but wasn't ready for yet. It was why I had troubles distinguishing if it was really love or not. However, I knew myself enough to know that love always came on kind of strange with me. I had felt all sorts of romantic feelings before, without so much as the idea of kissing someone being the primary focus. Human relationships and feelings are far stranger and more varied than what is considered normal in society – in various ways both physical and none physical. I wasn't going to try to figure it all out. I just knew that it had to be love. I was in a state of sheer madness.

Another week went by. I was only managing an hour or two of sleep a night. I felt dizzy, crazed, euphoric and suddenly at times I felt like I was being dunked into some unnamed psychological torture. Sometime I felt like something very wrong was happening, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I felt myself being ripped to pieces. The world seemed to waver and grow thick and thin. Looking back, it's actually hard to entirely identify all the feelings I was feeling at the same time, all the anxiety. I felt like I didn't have a center anymore. Remembering all of this is like remembering a severe fever. The only time I felt calm was if I was around Zack and Sarah. When I was alone, my heart would begin to race, and my thoughts would follow suit and something in the back of my thoughts told me something was wrong. I knew life would never be the same again.

I was still not making the kind of connection with Zack that I wanted to make with him. I wanted to ask him about high school. Sarah and I had intended on eventually asking him in detail to go through and explain his life story after he had left school year by year. It was something he touched upon at times but didn't have a clear narrative for – mostly because it was time consuming and he had been drunk and high for most of it. But what I wanted to know the answers to questions pertaining to me. I wanted to know if he remembered the letter he tried to send to me when I was at the alternative school. I wanted to know about how much of 9th grade he remembered, how he had told me I was special. I wanted to know specific details. He never seemed to have specific details. Did he still love me, or think I was special? Sarah still did most of the talking – and naturally these things weren't for her to ask about or state as that would be very far removed. She never in her way had truly been a part of any of the stuff that had gone on between Zack and I – nor did these burning questions pique her interest like they did me. I explained this all to Sarah. I told her that I felt insecure that I didn't get to talk to Zack one on one – I felt like I was just listening without saying anything. I wasn't just going to fly in and ask him this stuff. I wanted to get there piece by piece – perhaps in a more roundabout way what it was he did and didn't remember.

So, we decided to start this off by me getting rides back into Lewiston with Zack in his beat up dirty brown car. It was staged in a way to where, I could have driven into town with Sarah just as easily on her way to work, or I could have gone with my father – but for whatever reason those options were deemed impossible by our own design. We made it work so I had to go with Zack. Sarah gave him gas money, and I remember the first drive Zack and I took. I was at my father's outside, looking at the plants, silently waiting in euphoric terror for the ride. The terror wasn't something I could run from. It was a terror that inevitably would have followed me half way across the planet – so even though I was frightened, I knew there was no use running. The fear made me bold. I remember Zack pulling into the driveway, him getting out of his car. I looked up at him cautiously. He smiled down at me, and told me we were ready to go. So I got my bag and got in the passenger's seat.

Zack was talking about how he felt on the way back. He did most of the talking when we were alone. He used words like providence, glory, destiny. He looked out at the sky, in the strangest way. He looked at the sky like it was looking back at him. He clearly was pretty obsessed with being back in our lives – and I came to understand that more as I continued to listen. It seemed so weird to me – so unbelievable that I mattered to him. And here I thought he didn't care. I was so honored to be in the car with him, and that he was opening up to me. There was an ere of severe importance in how he talked and expressed himself. I found myself unable to say much, other than ask the occasional question. At the same rate though, at times I found myself not liking what he had to say. He would say something flowery and poetic, and then there would be this vein of simplistic one dimensional selfishness.

I didn't want to admit it to myself, but there were times when he would talk about Sarah or I, and I felt, kind of.. objectified? It was hard sometimes to know what he meant to say. And I never held it against him – because if you knew Zack, you knew this is who he was. But I couldn't help, as I picked the pieces together that he believed some things I did not. For one thing, I wasn't religious. I know I have talked about feeling and sensing and knowing things. But even when I claim these feelings, I know them to be only my truth. I don't dismiss them, but I don't think it's up to me to be settling on a world view based on it all. And even if feeling and knowing things meant something, then perhaps I was misreading it all. It seemed possible to me that if you did randomly pick up information from the world around you, be it something psychic, be it having a fabulous subconscious, be it some kind of mysterious fate, you only were grasping on tiny brick in the grand structure of a grand structure you could never comprehend the entire truth of. I knew that we as human beings have an extraordinarily limited ability to comprehend anything around us. We live in a state of perceiving and hallucinating a version of whatever is in front of us, and our brains are forgetting and restructuring that information constantly. We interpret what we see into whatever the framework allows. And I am no different. Even with the knowing of Zack returning to me, even with all of those feelings that came over me, how could I truly interpret it in a way that wouldn't be based on my own ego? What little insight is had has a predisposed element of being something we pieced together based on our limited understanding of said thing. So religion was essentially taking that little flicker of wisdom, that flicker or wave of intuition that I sometimes felt, and turning it into an egotistical power structure.

Zack's philosophy tended to rely heavily and almost entirely on the notion that God was giving him stuff. The more I talked to him, what little I did question him on, I found myself wondering if he understood anything else. I couldn't really accept this was as far as his thoughts traveled, but at the same rate, it seemed like the notion that God gave him what he wanted was all that really struck him as meaningful. He let me know in his way that he saw Sarah and me as commodities that God had given him for being a good Christian. I didn't want to hear that. It immediately hit me the wrong way, and though I distanced myself from my emotions, having to hear something so base really disappointed me. I didn't let myself name what I was feeling – as I didn't want Zack to dislike me. But, good sleep or no, I wasn't ready to accept that answer. I entertained it momentarily as a possibility, but quickly concluded that even if it were the case, even if I was true, if I was some biblical blessing to Zack, then I would definitely have to align myself with Lilith and dismiss his ideas entirely. I tried to tell myself that what he said didn't really matter.

In the moment, I was often suspended in a place where I didn't know the truth. I had nobody to talk to about any of this – be it the craziness that was Zack back in my life happening all so fast, the fact that I was going three days in a row with no sleep and little food, the feelings from that winter that had all seemed so much like a premonition to what was now taking place, how everything around me looked different – and how I felt like a part of me had died, trying to assess and understand my feelings about Zack, trying to comprehend what Sarah and I were doing, trying to communicate with Sarah, trying to understand Zack's point of views and align them with my own. I thought I might  have been going crazy – I was in fact going crazy at this point. I should feel happy, I reasoned with myself. I was in love, I had struggled and I had persevere, and yet in the corners of my thoughts came this raging and insane feeling of total and complete collapse. It felt like the end of the world. I wanted there to be someone I could talk to about it – I wanted to be able to ask someone, anyone what I should do. But my father was deluded and crazy. My mother was deluded and crazy. Allison and David didn't know what was happening, and when I talked to Sarah, she just nodded and was very aloof.

And it made me feel like something was very wrong – perhaps the wrongest thing I had ever felt, and it was growing within me and nobody could understand or see it. I felt like my ability to communicate was disappearing – an invisible wall was growing between me and everything else, and the only shared company I had was this insane sense that I had no self, and perhaps I never had. What I found felt like a black hole that I both embodied and paradoxically was falling into. I had meddled with something I had no business meddling with – I had challenged reality, and now it was challenging back. And now I saw a truth that lay underneath everything. It was some Chaos that had it's roots in everything. The structure of the world was falling away. And yet, even as I felt this was true, the sun seemed to still come up in the morning and go down at night. Everyone I knew seemed more confused by me. And so there was nobody I could sort this with. My best hope was Sarah understanding. But she seemed silent on the matter.

On that first drive into Lewiston, Zack's car broke down a few miles out of town. He had ran out of gasoline. He casually got out of the car and started to walk. I followed behind him. It amazed me, and sort of impressed me to be honest, that he lived this way. This had been his life. He lived for the moment. One thing broke and he went to the next thing. He owned next to nothing. His life was at the mercy of whatever drug he was on, and whatever nature decided to do with him. He spent most of his life behind the wheel of a car, until that car would break down and he would move on to something else, sure that powers above would cradle and he would find liberation in something new. His only home was alcohol and methamphetamines. Occasionally he would take up a job fixing something, until he had a few paychecks and he would be off again. He relied heavily on other users and his family members – primarily his mother for anything stable. And it all seemed so strange to me. At an early age, I had seen Zack as this glowing beautiful up and coming poetic boy rising to the inevitable status as a famous musician and unstoppable and beautiful spirit of which I felt so connected to. I had believed that and it had not happened. My early life when I had known Zack when we were both young had been enough to give me the incentive to rise up against my own life and to separate myself from my family. It had inspired me to read, to make art, to work hard on myself and articulate my ideas – and to pay attention to my inner world, to create. Because Zack had seen in me things nobody else had ever seen in me – and I had run on that. And that meant a lot. For years it might have been the only thing I had.

So now here I was, walking behind Zack on the side of the highway as the sun went down before us. He walked calmly like he had some kind of ancient wisdom and without a care in the world. After a mile or so, Zack saw a house that he knew the old man who lived there. He went into the place as I stood outside an he came out with some gasoline. And then we walked back, and his car started. We broke down again outside of Lewiston. The air was cool. In the distance the paper factory puffed away. We were quiet but the silence wasn't all that uncomfortable. He asked me with his deep voice if I ever felt like something was hollowed out of me, an then filled with light. It almost made sense with how I felt then – another one of his vague profound questions and statements. I told him I had. It didn't feel like he understood me when I talked about myself at all, so I did most of my talking in the form of asking questions, which he seemed to enjoy answering. And I found that I rather preferred to ask questions.

We met Sarah at Zany's, and she bought us milkshakes at a small table. We  happily ate the ice cream, and then Sarah got off work, finished calculating her tips and sorting her money. Zack and Sarah went back to Kendrick. I stayed in Lewiston for a few days. I thought maybe if I tried to give this Zack business a rest then perhaps I could make heads or tails of it all. I managed to get some sleep that night, and I woke up blazing with energy. I had about thirty dollars to my name, and I had decided that I was going to spend that all on something small and fun. So I walked all the way up 21st street to the Dollar Store and bought a bunch of Easter candy and Bunny ears, and random fun things. I planned on having a miniature party with them. It was something I would have done a lot more of had I had the money. I have always loved miniature parties – buying a movie, pizza, candy or going out to take pictures with a small group of people. Sometimes dressing up, or buying tacky items can make the mundane act of living just a little bit more bearable. It staves away adulthood and monotonous boredom. I once bought two bottles of sparkling apple cider and two small plastic chairs for me and Allison to sit in while drinking the bottles so we could pretend we were getting wasted together.

That night Sarah picked me up from my mother's and I went out to Kendrick with her. The intention was to go to my house and bring the candy and rabbit ears. I figured the act of bearing gifts to the occasion would make him smile at the very least. But when I got to Sarah's house, Alex was there. It was strange, but for some reason I felt a bit sorry for Alex. I didn't know why I should. He never wanted to hang out too much. But it felt weird in that Sarah was spending and focusing quite a bit more energy on her friendship with Zack than she was her relationship with Alex. And honestly, after so long of being in a relationship with him where neither one of them did much or communicated, I didn't know if it was even weird or not. Alex had more recently taken some steps to be out in the living room. He and I were on good enough terms, and he always seemed as though he thought I was rather hilarious. He seemed like a fine friend – even while I thought he was a shit boyfriend. Sarah and I decided to do the party with Alex instead. It was more something he would be into, we reasoned.

Alex noticed how much weight I had lost – my eyes were a lighter shade of hazel, my face was thinner. I was starting to look different in a lot of ways – not just my weight, but that was a good portion of it was due to a sudden and almost inexplicable drop in my weight. In the two and a half weeks that Zack had been living in my father's home, I had dropped seventeen pounds. Never before and never again have I managed that kind of weight loss and I am not sure that I would ever want to. It was the result of the spell of madness I was under – and the first week had been the most painful in ways that are hard to explain. Think of the exercise it took to lose that kind of weight, and then contain that in the course of a few days. The first ten pounds had come off from that first week, and I had felt every bit of it. It came from a racing heart and racing mind and not eating at all. I had felt every angle of that pain. Even though it had hurt, I guess there was a part of me that felt like this madness had made me lovelier and I took a great amount of satisfaction from that. Like maybe I had sold my soul to look more beautiful – and if I had somehow sold my soul for all this, then the least I could do was reap the benefits from that exchange.

Later that night we went down to my house. My father was acting very strange. He didn't like the fact that Zack was hanging out with primarily Sarah and I but seemed completely tongue tied on how to address it. We went into my old rose themed bedroom and sat on the floor around Zack. Sarah and I had brought some candy from the Easter thing we had had with Alex, but Zack didn't seem to know how to address or take the candy. Zack was an extreme minimalist. I swear he would pick a boring piece of basalt gravel over a rare glowing purple gem, and it always puzzled me. In any case, we sat around and asked Zack to tell us his life story. At least what had happened post him leaving high school. He didn't seem to remember much, but he told us what he did remember.

He had been dating Melissa. He and Melissa had made a pact to run away to Minnesota together, and when he had wanted to do that, she had told him no. She had a job here, and money. Her friends and family were here, and what was there for her in Minnesota? Zack had by this time shown no interest in finding a job. What Zack had wanted I think, in traveling back to Minnesota was I think in some naive confused way he wanted to travel back in time. He saw Minnesota as a time capsule where he could escape to his childhood. But of course Minnesota had changed, and he had changed. Melissa had been right in not wanting to go to Minnesota. When I had been young I would have had jealousy based foolish ideas that this was some kind of sign that she didn't love Zack enough. And mind you, Zack as he told us this story didn't have any perspective on it. As he told us this story, I think he still felt like Melissa had abandoned him when she told him no. I would not have been as smart had I been in her shoes. I would have walked off a cliff if Zack had asked me to.

Quietly, I remembered that he had told me he would take me with him to Minnesota someday when he ran away around that same time. It had all been a plan he had had in his young mind, we would leave our families behind early in the morning and we would never return. It also occurred to me in listening to his recollections that he didn't remember me. He hadn't remembered that he was supposed to take me. Quietly it stung but I carried on listening.

So he just basically went to Minnesota by himself. And then he had come back a few months later. Melissa was with someone else, and he got mad and they broke up. Around this time I pieced together was around the same time that he had sent that letter to me that I never got, telling me he still loved me. It had always meant so much to me that that letter had existed, even when I had never been so privileged as to hold it and read it myself. To a degree, this knowledge cheapened things a bit. I had always been number two and there could be no mistake about that. If Melissa failed, he would go to me – or at least extend the offer. I didn't per say see it that way completely, but it would have been totally blind of me not to see it that way to some degree. He never would have written that letter to me had him and Melissa stayed together.

After that, he had started to date Valerie, Melissa and his long time friend. She had been in the class below me, and she had always looked at me quizzically when Zack and I hung out. I realize now that she had likely been harboring feelings for him for years. Val and Zack were seen as a much more fitting couple by everyone who knew them. Even so, they managed to stay together for about year. But by then Zack had started to do hard drugs – meth mostly, and this had upset Val. In order to get back at Zack for choosing drugs over her, she cheated on him with some local redneck friend of Zack's intentionally so he would know about it. I guess it must have all come to light on some camping trip because there was a famous incident where Zack shoved Valerie into a smoldering fireplace – or something like that. He didn't tell us about that part when he told his life story – I later found this out from other people who had been there.

Valerie was fine. And then for a brief time Zack had gone back to Melissa, who I think was willing to give him a second chance. It had lasted three or four months. Zack wasn't clear about what had ended it finally between he and Melissa. I found that out much later. Basically, without getting into too much details, when Melissa discovered Zack using, she had driven to wherever it was that he was at, and she would drag and fight him. Melissa was very small, but somehow extremely feisty. She would walk right into the house he was staying at, and drag him out by being force, relentlessly. She was hoping to wear him down, to force him to stay clean. And eventually she lost that game. She couldn't stop Zack from using drugs. It really was his one and only passion. He didn't even want to play music anymore.

From there Zack said he didn't remember much. Mostly his memories were about driving around all night and all day. He would live somewhere for a month or two and then go somewhere else. He hung out with Billy a lot, and a guy we went to school with named Pete. His taste in music shifted from the alternative 90's stuff of his youth, to Metallica, nu metal and ICP. I couldn't hide the solid look of judgment on that last bit. I'm not a fan of ICP, as it is something my sister listened to quite a bit. It's something that meth users in my area of the world were crazy for. For that matter, I am not a fan of nu metal. I have some obscure respect for Mike Patton from Faith No More, but Limp Bizkit and Kid Rock are terrible. Metallica I could live with in that I could recognize the legitimacy of their impact and their talent. I saw them live when I was fourteen and liked them once a few lifetimes back. I don't judge anyone for liking Metallica even if I don't care for them myself.

But it was moments like this where Zack liked some really terrible stuff. He seemed, much like Roxanne's ex Jeremy – to have some meth inspired Christianity ideas. I've met a few people who have the same notions – mixing their meth highs with religion. I call it Methianity. It generally takes the worst of both worlds and mixes the two. Zack also didn't read and never wanted to read. I couldn't judge him for this exactly. It hadn't exactly valued reading when I had first met him. We had both been considered stupid outcasts in the school. So I had to refrain from feeling judgmental. Plus, he had been wrecked on drugs for years and that had to have brought him back in time. How could I blame him for something so trivial as not reading? It took years for him to get this messed up. It was clear he had problems. As soon as he was off drugs, maybe then he would start to evolve. In order to bring the best out of Zack, I had to see the best in him, and ignore the worst.

This cemented something for me. I loved Zack, and I was going to stick by him as a friend – nothing more. I wanted to see him through this dark miserable drug addiction of his. I had to show a radical selfless kind of love I had never fully expressed before. It wasn't always going to be fun, or romantic. I wasn't ready to even deal with anything like a relationship anyway. There were things about him that I thought were kind of gross. I didn't want to admit that to myself. It wasn't the fact that he was dirty, or unkept exactly. It stemmed to how he thought at times, and how incurious he was. To a degree I felt like it was part of the reason he didn't seem interested in what I had to say ever. I used to think him and I were very similar, but now looking at it more closely, I guess we weren't. Or maybe we had met at a junction early on in life before flying in opposite directions – me towards books and philosophy, Zack towards drugs. And yet, I had to believe that we still could be close - surely there was some silverlining to all of this. I just had to give it time. I had to be diligent. Nothing good would ever come easy.

PART 88 - https://tinyurl.com/ychmzqbd

PART 87 - https://tinyurl.com/ycvfrwp9

PART 86 - https://tinyurl.com/y8fcu787

PART 85 - https://tinyurl.com/y73j3s9z

PART 84 - https://tinyurl.com/y8chr6hw

PART 83 - https://tinyurl.com/yasrxfkj

PART 82 - https://tinyurl.com/y9wvecz3

PART 81 - https://tinyurl.com/yc7bm62r

My Life Story in Chapters, PARTS 1-80 (this link below will lead you to a list of all the chapters i have written thus far).

http://aleatoryalarmalligator.tumblr.com/post/168782771574/life-story-sections-1-8

#text #writing #life story

[moniquerosee]

I haven’t had much of an outlet for writing ever since my phone got stolen. I still have the urge to get it off my chest. I miss you today and that fucking sucks dicks. I am seeing lovely the band tonight and I attended the most beautiful music festival with some of my favorite DJs like louis the child, troyboi, slander, so down, and rappers like kevin gates, rich the kid and so many more that blew me into a million pieces of disbelief. I really enjoy being without a phone, even if everyone I am around is mindless and staring at theirs most the time. This is a really freeing feeling and gave me a lot of time to think. I miss my ex but there is not one good reason for it. I just hope she is enjoying life atm. I still think about her a lot but there are certain things that cant be unsaid or undone and reasons we could never make it work. I hope to talk to her again one day while we both have clear heads. I am not feeling too great about myself financially right now and I currently have two jobs. I just got hired as a stage hand for Rhino staging. Coincidentally, they called me in on my non-existent phone to help clean up at the festival where my phone got ripped out of my pocket. good times. I havent been to work since Friday and I do not go back in untill Friday unless Rhino calls me, so I hope I can afford bills this next month. I feel pretty sad today. I guess I wasn’t expecting life to be so much different in such a little time and with such different people. I think she was the only constant in my life. It sucks because this text entry is living proof for how my brain works. It will scan some normal aspects of whats on my mind, that is important about my day and it wires back to her, and rinse and repeat. Gotta love infatuation for someone who would leave you stranded in the middle of LA at midnight with a friend that was mistaken for a lover when in doubt I have only loved one person my entire life and I still do in some ways. I mean, if your person goes and tells you they are in love with you and then the next day says, youll never see me again, dont you think that could traumatize someone too much. She has done so much wrong yet I can only come back wanting her for the few rights. It is scary to be this way. I wish I never thought about her anymore at all. Ill be rotting like this forever.

[seominjiuniverse-blog]

when it's over, that's the time I fall in love again

My mind can’t spit out anything much to newer, nicer , better to say. The title  came from an old song, a boy band I think?

Breaking dawn with I love you then goodbye. Yesterday morning I’m on my newly tradition of blogging then crying deep inside ‘till I get tired and fall asleep. here’s an excerpt:

I remember him again. the pain is still there. The water in me is rushing all over to be a drop of tear and see the world to be dried by air. nonsense? . The feeling is really inexplicable you’ll only have the chance to know when it’s you who’s already experiencing the state of being everything!

Just a few minutes ago,I really can say that I’m only seeing part of the picture and it’s cute to think how it’s that when I was only sixteen, my present problem already had the same problem I have right now with him. Well in fact that time of my life I was blissful starting a relationship with my first (informal) boyfriend which lasted for three years because of my immaturity and STUPIDITIES.

PAPA JACK said over the nationwide broadcast FM Radio: “just be thankful that it was once yours. At least when you get old and can’t do anything at all but to sit on your rocking chair, you could at least reminisce for the good days that you spend with that someone. Your best days with that person no matter how long for as long as you’ve been given the chance to experience so.” I hope I made  right translating it. 

That’s it. I really love Franco and all I can do now is wish for his happiness without me. Maybe it’s not our time yet. I don’t want to fool myself with false hope but I don’t want to cut the spirit of hoping and believing. As the song goes “Hope for the best and expect the worse”.

I laugh in my mind and felt more fortunate than others. While I am grieving for just a month or two, he’s been in pain for years and so.

Life is really a matter of choice. Life in general~everything that is possible! with it’s every aspects, you just need a bit of emotions from a vessel named heart to make mind decide to be a little bit nicer, softer , weaker than usual. But all is up to you, well if he chose to be imprisoned in his own desire to prove what he wanted to, I cannot oath to do like him so, I need to SAVE myself.

Dying alive is really an awful situation. But if we don’t experience failures we will not be able to grow for we won’t want anything more if everything is perfectly in place.

If its not him, then I’m bound to look elsewhere to see that someone ment to me is waiting to make ourselves happy ~ happiest.

LOVE hurts sometimes when you do it right. Every relationship is a trial and error.

DIE and be reincarnated people and bring on the lessons with you as you go along , as you move on. (MIRROR)

sacrifice is the true language of love, as much as I want him to be with  him I would like  it more to let him be happy the way he wants to be.

This is a lesson learned I would like to share with everybody.

*still have a lot of childish hopes and disappointments ‘till now, but better keep going than be stuck in here forever and never try to discover and re-discover whatever*

(Whew! whatta long excerpt of mine!)

Going back, why do I ended up writing another public blog???? Maybe because I decided to keep IT all again with me, not being shared with any technology, something that any monitor won’t be able to be seen upon.

Last night I’m in my friend’s house planning to go to MOA and have a small quality time while touring our officemate’s brother who’s new here in Manila. As we were waiting for their car to pick us up, I’d been asked to send a text message to our officemate using Leah’s mobile phone and as I was browsing her phone book, I automatically saw his name and the rush came through my body again (franco-mj). I decided then to give him a ring without my friend’s permission, then after three busy tone after long span of waiting and hearing a ring I decided to stop what I am doing. Then the night grew deeper and her family was watching a real-life story in ABS CBN, the movie in Maalala Mo Kaya is sad but I felt like crying because I of what the story’s situation reminded me.

Then as I admit  to them that I miss him, Leah who’s already holding her moby phone told me that HE texted. At first I thought 'twas a joke but then as she handed me the phone I prove that she wasn’t.

Just like before, I got too excited and as that guy thought Leah’s number was her close friend’s number, I tried to imitate her best friend’s way of texting just to hear from him again and even asked him to come t where we were heading at.

Then while were on our way to our destination, I failed to convince him and decided to give up fabricating too much false hopes bout him. and the feel of pain pang inside my chest, my mind, my body and my entire system again. I’m about to cry but then held back my tears, I don’t want to ruin my new company’s first bonding time with me.

We settled at Padis Point MOA an first asked for a tower of three-flavored cocktail drink. As the night turns to midnight, under the full moon of 24th and 25th of July, I started to feel alone and lonely again while on outdoors with a loud music and a lot of groups of people around me. I miss him. I hate him. I love him.

I thought the night I mean morning will end the way I tried hard to be ~ not letting them witness my river of tears which is about to explode. (disappointed to him for not even appreciating any of my effort and not making me feel possess any worth).

Suddenly, after a little dance and drink again, it is already morning, the chickens are about to shout and wake people up.I went inside Padis to look for Zand when I go back to my seat, he is already sitting on our table!!!

BANG! a surprise image of him welcomed me away! The moment I was just about to came near to our table, I thought he is just another imagination

I will be happy if I’ll see that letting him go, giving him up will make him happy.

he said he came there to help me, to end my longing and not to add misery and sorrow and to let me move on with my life without him. Not hanging anymore….

Then we ride inside the car,(we’re overloading argh!) and sitting on his lap it made me feel hollow. I want to embrace him even after standing beside him. I tried to touch his hand but he refuses to add another memory.

Then there, they dropped me in front of our gate. and another hope sprouted in me. that  one day when he realizes that he can’t do it again without me, he will come in front of our front door and ask me back in his life. - ANOTHER FOOLISH FANTASY

I might even have somebody beside me by that time.

I miss him so much. Lord help me pass this through I always wanted to, but the feeling is uncontrollable by my mind.

Still on with my tradition:

Every night i talk to the stars pretending its him.. it acts just like him though - - far away and never replies to my questions that left me with no other option but to CRY.

I cry for the time that he was almost mine

I cry for the memories I’ve left behind

I cry for the pain

the lost

the old that seems new

I cry for the times I thought I had him.

But the bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.

He never was and he never will be mine.

’ Till now I wish I had the guts to walk away and forget about what we had. But, I can’t because I know he won’t come after me, and I guess that’s what hurts the most

Just living and breathing and trying not to die again …

And hey, here’s another blog of mine which I opt to make public =) :

There are always two sides of the coin as they say. only two particle charges. There’s black and white ; good ad bad ; angel and devil ; big and small ; thick and thin and so on… I had played a lot of role in  my existence so far. I’ve been the bitch , crazy , funny , boring , enthusiastic, stupid , foolish , wise , strong , weak , undecided ,clever , beautiful , best , worse, attractive , sexy , loser , shy , lover , baby , mother , daughter , sister , friend , acquaintance , casualty , student , teacher , aunt , relative , passer by and a lot more.

Just recently I prove my own theory and made my reason before reasonable by experiencing it on my own. I dupe someone before fearing that he might be able to it first before me. When he’s already out of my life, I regret it but tried to look stronger and tell them ” If I didn’t do that and be very naive, I’ll just wake up that he’ll be the one doin it to me”. So I always say before that it’s nice to be bad. Nice to fool around instead of being fooled upon,

I thought KARMA doesn’t know me, yet it came. Life really teaches me that being too nice to someone or giving your best will just show you the worse.

Dunno what script will I give to myself again. Will  I rather be a saint who is being stab to death or the sinner who is being burn to ashes.

used with being confused.

I don’t know what I want. (throwing the love away) throwing but not letting go. I keep on effing playing the memories over and over again till it gets damaged but it seems like its being photocopied a million times when I do.

I hate myself for loving you. I even hate myself for beleiving in love and applying it to you.

Actually, I am happy, sad, high and low this time. I hope and waits for the day to come where  someone will really touch my heart and teach me how to feel again and make my inceptions new. Again I’m sorry for what I did to you Al Franco Adeja Ocampo. There will be no other you in my life. You are the first and life is just about to start. I wish for your happiness and success I hope to hear it soon. Thank you for making me feel wrong and right. For letting me realize things others cannot give and let live in me. For making me struggle hard to be a better person. For letting me saw what my mistakes are and how I could make it right. Please be strong enough for your own.

Ill just stay this way 'till my heart feels like doing so end 'till my mind can tolerate my foolishness with and for you.