Words 'n Stuff

11:41 and Just the Way You Are plays on the radio. Such a cheesy song, yet I can’t help the silly grin that’s plastered on my face. I can’t help but grin because finally I found someone who would sing me this song. He’d be off-key, despite his knowledge of music. He’d serenade me, full of laughter, knowing exactly how foolish he looks.
11:45 and I hope to God I don’t jinx my happiness by writing about it. I’m perfectly content in my current situation, yet part of me is questions how long this will last: how long it can last.
11:47. I can almost feel his hands on me, caressing my body as if I’m something precious. His soft, lined hands are calloused with years of wearing rough motocross gloves and lifting the weight necessary to keep him strong. His fingers are so long that they easily curl over my own.
11:51. I don’t worry about the mistakes he’s made in the past. Perhaps I should, given the severity of the heartbreak I have experienced. I should be more careful; I should be wary of wearing my heart on my sleeve. Despite my rocky romantic history, I, surprisingly, am not concerned that he’ll hurt me like he hurt another girl. There’s a saying, ‘once a cheater, always a cheater’ but I don’t think that holds true for everyone. Every single person has the potential, the ability to cheat. Some people do. People make mistakes because humans are naturally fallible creatures. I want to believe he made the mistake once and he will never make that mistake again.
11:56 and my eyes are wide open. The soft, squishy pillow beside my head seems so inviting. The coolness of the empty space beside my body is a gentle reminder that I am alone. I don’t think I will remain this way for much longer.

8:03 and all is still. For the most part, at least. The occasional grumble as cars round the corner, the dim lights flash in my face, no doubt illuminating my tranquility. I don’t doubt that if a driver happened to catch a momentary glance, he would be no less than perplexed to see a solitary figure reposed in a wire patio chair with legs propped up on the table. Mug of cooled tea set beside her.
8:05 and now I’ve realized the source of a white orb of light that steadily glides from left to right in the distant realm of the Festival. Too steady to be a human with a flashlight, too singular and complete (for lack of a better word) to be headlights, the source is the headlamp of a golf-cart type vehicle.
8:10 and the shadows intensify as the sun slips further from my reach. The wind, gently caressing my skin and softly tousling my hair like a loving friend, has acquired a slight chill to it that sends shivers crawling up my arms if I let the coolness sink in.
8:12. A worried parent ushered me inside. Apparently, fresh air isn’t good for someone whose sinuses are full of gooey glop. This is news to me. My sense of smell is assailed by the staleness of my room. An opened window does nothing to clear the air.

by far the best part of that movie

rt-hon-harry-koschei-saxon:

thisisasickness:

yaoidutchess:

hahahahahha accurate

I just love that gif okay.