STARTED JAN 2023--
MATURE AND EXPLICIT CONTENT. Viewer Discretion is advised.
Priscilla Pearl Wolfe is a Pornstar.
Halen Elle used to be.
That is until the apathetically charming jackass with a back pocket full of guitar picks and skittles moves...
"Dreamers, They never learn..." ♪ Daydreaming • Radiohead
ANY MINUTE NOW 65 DAYS AND SIX HOURS AGO
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Spring on the horizon and I'm betrayed.
I'm betrayed by time, as it has the nerve to pass. I'm betrayed by my head, a theater of unkind memories with encore after encore. I'm betrayed by my heart, that aches alone at night, no matter what I do. And I'm betrayed by my friends; my only piece of Halen to cling to, a lie. It's day six and pity is more than a warm hug. Pity is my only companion, and today I'm... scared.
I'm scared to move. I'm scared to leave. I'm scared to speak. I'm scared to lose grip of hope.
Because if it's not any minute now, it's never.
And it can't be never.
That can't be it.
It can't be over.
There is so much to be said still. To feel. To share with him.
Contemplation in the past days has made me realize that I shouldn't have held back. Maybe if I was more honest, he would still be here. If I'd let him know the depth of my affection, and sooner, if I'd let him into parts of me, my past and passions closed off – maybe he'd know how much being abandoned like this, even temporarily, would hurt me.
Maybe he'd be more invested in me. In us.
Instead, I was callous and stubborn when he was earnest and interested.
He encouraged me and my dreams, he tried to love me, he offered it free, and I approached it like I would a snake.
I took him for granted.
I wasn't good enough to him.
I hate myself for it.
Now, all I get – all of him that I deserve, flows through the sketching's of a pencil. As I sit, cradled on the windowsill in my sitting room, my eyes as heavy as the pouring rain tapping against it, I sculpt his broad back, haunting eyes, and scarred hands with teary eyes of my own.
He's so beautiful. I hope he knows I meant that. My adoration for art, it includes him. He's a work so chilling, I could only pray to one day craft something as incredible.
Halen once told me I could. He told me he believed in me.
If he was here right now, I'd give up my insecurity and show him everything. Show him this notebook, and the ones shamefully hidden under my bed, chock full of artwork and concepts I've thought up over years. I'd gush and be brave and bare my soul to make him proud.
But that's just my hope and hindsight talking again.
I miss him even more today than yesterday.
And I have no doubt that even if he walks through the door right now, I will miss him more tomorrow.
