~Her words were my poison. I used them to consume myself.
Disturbingly honest. Painfully strained. Carefully penned down. Dangerously addictive.~
A journal that landed in the right hands and told a whole story with words, no lips could speak.
Two...
"Aren't you just adorable! Head over heels in love with someone else's journal-- apart from the fact that that's really creepy-- it really is adorable." She smoothed my hair.
For the last forty minutes all I had done was wail about the journal. P didn't enjoy the sound of my very annoying groans and whines so she decided to comfort me?
So now we were both on the sofa and she was caressing my hair.
"Clarke, you're being a little ridiculous now."
"Three whole days P!"
She sighed. "Alright, get up, I have a surprise for you, your miserableness is making me miserable and I don't want to be miserable. We're going somewhere. Come on." She wrapped an arm around my shoulder.
"I don't want to go anywhere. I'm tired and it's four a.m.-- who's going to take care of Lacey if we go somewhere?"
"Lacey's asleep. She's going to be just fine."
"What if she wakes up and she feels like she's all alone? I don't want her to feel like I'm not there for her."
"Drax. She knows you love her."
"I know. I just want her to know that I'll always be there for her. Always. Especially if she wakes up in the middle of the night because she had a nightmare-- or if she just needs to know that I'm there."
She sighed and offered me a smile.
"Okay, don't hate me for this but-- the other night I happened to find that journal lying around and I tore a page from it because-- well, to put it mildly, I was jealous. So I'm going to get you that page and you're going to forgive me for tearing it in the first place, okay?"
I nodded. What I felt right now was somewhere between mad and grateful? It was a weird sense of relief mixed with a little bit of anxiety.
As the page found my hand I felt my fingers shake.
I hate the idea of growing up. Sure you get to be an adult and that's kinda cool but-- you have to be an adult. You don't really have a choice. You have to be an almost responsible human?
You have to do adult stuff like taxes and insurance?
And you have to at least pretend like you know what you're doing?
I can't even match a pair of socks right on my good days how exactly am I expected to do serious adult things without messing up completely?
All I really want to do is cuddle with my boyfriend and pretend like the world isn't such a complicated place after all but it is?
So, I guess, in conclusion, I have one thing to say?
Dear reader, don't grow up.
PS. Peter Pan has it all figured out.
PPS. Be like Peter Pan!
"You're forgiven Parachute."
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