insomniac || j.d.

journal entry

entry #28 in: snarky jim

i wanted to leave, get out of that talk group room and find comfort on a piano bench. but as the saying goes: "you don't always get what you want"

my actions were halted when i was grabbed (quite roughly might i add) by my buddy 'ol pal, death.

"rowan, is it?"

i noticed that her fingers skimmed over the denim of her pockets as if they were in search for something. when the fingers did not come in contact with what they were looking for, they stiffened. instead the long black colored nails dug into the flesh that lined her palm.

"sure."

"sure? what is that supposed to mean? is your name rowan or is it not?"

"oh it is. and yours?"

death.

"Vivian. call me V." she stated firmly, adjusting the dark grey jacket that sat loosely on her small arms.

"what if i preferred to call you Vivian?" i blurted, letting the sweet sound of her name roll off my tongue.

"what if I preferred to not waste my time talking to you?" she spat, her dark eyes seemingly glowing under the fluorescent bulbs that hung overhead.

"you'd be doing me a favor." i replied snarkily, twisting my feet and heading towards the lobby.

the squeaky clean white tiles and walls mocked me as i ventured towards the piano. "alone" they screamed with each scuff of my dingy black converse. and no matter how much i hated it, the walls were right. vivian seemed as if she had no intent on becoming my friend even though i had every intention on becoming hers. she was a mystery to me. she was interesting. i was me with my dark circles and sad smiles. and she was... her.

i focused my attention to my shoes, watching as i stepped on each crack, making sure to break my mother's back. she was already dead anyways- so i didn't see how it mattered.

my twisted little game was abruptly interrupted when i collided with something, or someone. by the smell of his shirt and the sharp inhale he made when it happened, i knew it was josh.

i stepped back from his body quickly. if he was going to treat me like i was some sort of disease, the least i could do was pretend i was contagious.

we stayed there for a few extra seconds before he spoke. it wasnt much, and the word had really no meaning to me anymore.

"sorry"

what a useless word.

but coming from him it sounded different. the poisonous blue color made it seem real, like he actually meant that he was sorry. no one ever meant it.

october 5th, 2009
7:53 pm
-ro