~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...
Breathing kinda hurts. Everything kinda hurts if you think about it enough.
So maybe we just shouldn't think at all?
Maybe we should just accept the world for the sad, distressing place that it is.
I can't say it's unremarkable. In many ways, the world fails its potential but it's not without its awe inducing aspects.
However, for the most part, I have my issues with it.
With what humans are.
They're perfectly okay if you're looking at them objectively but when you try to get a clearer look at what they really are, on the inside, oh boy, there's some fucked up shit there.
Maybe that's all I'll see if I stop thinking?
Maybe if I didn't think at all, I'd see this bland picture of cruelty and hatred that somehow makes perfect sense.
It tricks you into believing it's all shit. It fails to show you how truly magnificent it can be.
It's frustratingly misleading.
And I guess that's the problem with not thinking?
You miss out on the good stuff?
"Hey Clarke, you okay?"
I nodded.
"Have you slept at all?"
I shook my head.
"Drax? What's wrong?" She was being careful.
Soft even.
"Nothing." She didn't have to know.
"Hey, I know we aren't best friends or anything--but you look like shit and I want you to not feel like shit. So tell me what's wrong. And I'll fix it."
"As much as I adore your optimism, I don't think you can fix this."
"Try me." She reached out her hand and I instinctively took it in mine.
"Drax. You can tell me anything."
"Anything? Are you sure Fate?"
"Absolutely." She grinned.
"This isn't your fucking business."
Her smile faded and she looked hurt?
"But it's making you sad. So I guess it kinda is." She whispered almost inaudibly.
She didn't give up?
She continued walking with me?
Her fingers squeezed mine gently?
"You know, you probably shouldn't let me treat you like shit?"
"We both know you're not going to treat me like shit." She shook her head.
"So you're just going to let that slide?"
"Maybe if you tell me what's wrong?"
I just shrugged, unsure of how to explain it to her.
I never really had to explain my fucked up family to anyone. Everyone who had to know, just sorta knew?
This was a weird kind of new for me?
"I spoke to someone. It messed me up." I don't think P knew yet. I don't think anyone knew yet.
"Human interaction does tend to mess me up sometimes as well." She nodded.
"This was different. It wasn't just human interaction--it was like speaking to a ghost."
"That sounds like something you'd say." She smiled.
"Why do you say that?"
"Because you're weird--Good weird. Gosh, don't look so offended!"
"You're weird too."
She leaned in close to my ear and whispered, "Oh you know what else I am?"
"What else are you?" I whispered back.
"Late for class, weirdo!"
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