This Is Our Sweet Blasphemy

Tear Down The Cross

I was going to rip her fucking head off.

Ivy passed out a few seconds after I pushed Macy off of her. I didn't care if she could ruin my reputation or whatever; I would not stand to see her hurting my best friend. Well, my only friend in that matter.

Macy glared daggers at me and I didn't give a single damn. I kneeled down next to Ivy while Andrew came running up to us. He looked down at Macy at then at Ivy. He didn't seem to care about me though because he just turned back towards Macy, who was extending her hand at him, waiting her him to help her up. He ignored her and knelt down beside Ivy, in front of me. I smirked at the face Macy was making.

Since he wasn't looking at me at all, I was starting to get pissed. Actually, I guess I was more hurt than angry. Did he just throw away his feelings for me? Maybe he never loved me, maybe I was just imagining things... Ugh.

He put one arm under Ivy's legs, under her knees, and the other arm went under her shoulders, just below her head; bridal style. He picked her up gently and walked away, leaving me there not knowing what to do, Macy what still dazed at Andrew leaving her and in no fucking planet would I stay alone one more second with that bitch. So I got up and followed the tall man with the innocent girl in his arms.

I was close behind, not exactly next to him, but enough that when we walked, his back foot encountered my front foot. We didn't speak, which was odd, so I decided to think about other things instead of him.

It was a bit hard though, since he was right in front of me. However, thinking is a funny thing. We can think for hours and hours, pounding on one of the simplest things, though there are other times that we try our hardest to think about something of great importance, and we just can't. It's normal though, if we don't think, it means we have no longer a conscience, and if we don't have a conscience, we cease to exist. One of the reasons I'm agnostic, I believe that after death, we don't go away to a heaven or a hell depending on how we were in life, I think we just cease to exist; we don't think, nothing happens ever again, never. It's sad, but it's realistic. Then there are people that over-think, a bit like me. There are other people that don't think enough. But we all have a second voice inside our heads wondering things on what to wear or how are some people doing, or even things super important that you don't get to say on a normal basis. Things you don't say, you think. We think so we can survive, it's a survival tool, such as judging.

Judging is another thing, it's a survival tool. I judge, you judge, we all judge. So when people hate on others because they're judging a book by its cover, I find it stupid. We need to know if we're going to be friends with a certain person, or ignore them before even hearing their voice. If we think someone is going to interfere with our way of living, we decide to deny them; if we think someone is of great utility for us, we befriend them. In a way, we're all just egoistic, selfish, human beings.

Then there are others who judge in a meaner manner. Those are the type of people who you label as douche bags, or idiots. We all label each other, whether it's true or false. Yeah, thinking is a good thing.

Expect when you start thinking too much and slam your face in the person in front of you. I stepped back, mumbling a small sorry. The coal-black haired man didn't seem to mind, he stepped aside, showing me a door that needed opening. I did, and he walked inside, being careful with Ivy's limp and fragile body.

We were in the infirmary, everything was polished white, many silver utensils were neatly arranged on a white table against one of the walls. Andy laid the blonde on a gurney-type bed delicately and took a chair from behind the bed. He sat down, his legs crossed, probably waiting for the nurse.