❝Lai, you're really pushing your luck tonight.❞
❝Luck is for the weak, J. I prefer calculated risks.❞
෴⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄෴⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ ෴⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄෴⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄෴
forget quadratic equations; Laia's equation is more like "Revenge = Fun + Chaos."
armed with sarcasm, a knack for misch...
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"Here's the thought of the day; life's a wave, and we're all just riding it like a bunch of surfers who forgot to read the manual. You paddle out, catch a few good breaks, maybe wipe out spectacularly a couple of times, and then, bam! You're back on the shore, wondering if you remembered to turn off the oven before you left.
Now, here's the cosmic twist – everyone you know, love, hate, or have awkward conversations with at the boneyard will eventually vanish from the lineup. It's the great cosmic wipeout. Your dad? Gone. Your treasure-obsessed uncle? Vanished. That one cousin who owes you twenty bucks? Poof! You get the drift.
But hey, let's not get all existential crisis-y just yet. Because in this wild ride called life, everything is a one-time thing. It's like catching the perfect wave—exhilarating, brief, and probably involving a face plant in the sand. And since it's all over quicker than you can say "hang ten," suddenly, every little moment becomes this precious nugget of gold.
That time you aced that history test? Memory. The first awkward kiss with someone you shouldn't mack on? Memory. That moment you finally beat your cousin on the twinkie? Memory. They're all waves in the ocean of your life.
So, when the cosmic tide takes you back to the shore, leaving you with nothing but memories and a sandy bikini, remember this: life's not about how many waves you catch; it's about how rad those rides were. And every wipeout, every triumph, every embarrassing dancing and kegger tricks at the boneyard—they all become the stories you tell when you're sitting on the beach, sipping a cold drink, and marvelling at the absurdity of it all.
It's something you remember."
- Delaia Routledge.
෴⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄෴⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ ෴⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄෴⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄෴
warning!
foul language, underage drinking, alcohol and drug use allusions, graphic sexual themes, bereavement and depression, emotional abuse, and neglect, as well as abandonment issues. Kindly read at your own discretion
disclaimer!
I do not own the outer banks. The individual creators and owners are the exclusive proprietors of all rights. This piece of fiction was written to fuel the author's imagination. However, my original characters, stories, language, etcetera, are all mine. Do not steal, thanks!
