Are You Really My Savior (A James Maslow Love Story)

Too Late To Start Planning

Hey guys! I'm sure you all hate me because I am the suckiest updater in the whole entire planet (I'm almost as bad updating as Secondhand Serenade is at making a new album xD) Just kidding! I <3 them! Haha :) Anyways, I have a reason for why I practically disappeared! My computer got taken away for like ever and now the internet is dead (or hopefully just passed out) because my brother decided to mess with it :P Sooo moral of this blurb: blame mi hermano for me having no internet. (I'm literally writing this as I wait for the internet to magically awaken! <3)

So, I'm planning on updating Follow Me Home & I Wonder How Much Could Happen In One Summer este semana soo wooo! :) Since I have tomorrow (or today off, depending on when the internet wakes up finally and I can post this) I'll probably update again! Yeah! :) 

Anyways, Okey Fanokey (<--go awesome swamps in Georgia & my awesomely hilarious Earth Science teacher for telling us about that x)), the song's Who I Am Hates Who I've Been by the lovely Relient K <3 and the picture (is also my phone background<33) is of the lovely James Maslow (my Mazzy x) <3) {Quick story: when I found out he had foodposioning, I flipped and like died, thinking he died, so I ran downstairs, my family looking at me so confused, and I open Twitter. First thing on there? "Here's your Fox Photo Friday" Of course the first thing he posts is about Foxy xD)

By the way, just a warning this chapter is a little...creepy. Ahh, who am I kidding? This whole story is kinda creepy and messed up x3 But I'm just warning ya! Haha I blame spending a day watching murder mysteries, like Jack the Ripper (aka James Kelly!) 

Enough of my endless blabber! Enjoy este capitulo!<3 :)

{James’s PoV}

                Kendall’s body quivers in his whimpering sleep, whispers and secrets murmuring into his ear whether he’s conscious or not. His blonde hair matted and twisted, his face stretching in agony and forever stressed. Dried tears breaking his usually peaceful smile, his mind running through rusted wire, and his heart…is seems like it’s almost nonexistent through all broken crystals…

                3:41 AM. Shrieks still tumbling in the chaotic hallways, snowflakes keep on twisting to the scarred ground and Colette’s still not in my arms. Eerily calm this morning is opening up to be.

                I close the door separating the harsh reality from the dreams of what everything should be. Silence erupts in every corner. Instead of being soft, it’s the loudest sound I’ve heard all night. Booming, echoing, crazy thoughts bubbling inside of a corrupted heart.

                My eyelids slowly meet each other, expecting slumber to carry all the worry and the disturbing feelings miles away but nothing similar meets me. What should I expect? This is just too much. It feels like I’m watching this group of people stuck in a horror movie that’s so addictively scary and creepy that my eyes keep on viewing the terror. Like it’s not me. Like this is just a script. Like the monsters and secrets peering in the cryptic shadows is just mawkish child’s play.

                Like this is all pretend.

                How are we supposed to act to all the chemicals combining for what seems like our ultimate breakdown? How can we avoid the inevitable forever? Because procrastinating this situation would just be pointless. How can we all stay sane? How will we be able to ever full-heartedly smile or laugh again? He has to go. That’s the only way; if he goes. But how easy is that? Not easy at all…Fruitless. That’s what this all seems. Fucking, aggravatingly fruitless. Fruitless. Fruitless. Fruitless.