~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...
You know what I love about always having time? That burst of serotonin every time I get the slightest bit of attention. I can't quite explain it really but just knowing that someone else thinks about you feels so fucking nice?
I have a tendency to be the kind of person who's always waiting for stuff, for people, for everything. That's what I think I'm most known for. Being this messy, emotional person who's always there waiting. It's not a sinister kind of waiting or a lonely kind of waiting, it's an off hand thing. Not always something I'm actively doing but something I'm always a part of.
And I think that while sometimes it can be a bit exhausting to be like that, especially with the emotional toll it can take on you, it can also be so freeing to just admit that you're that person? And allow yourself to fully appreciate the excitement that comes with it.
And oh boy, is the excitement real. I know I light up. There's nothing like it. Letting people know you care and being okay with being slightly more invested.
"Drax, put the diary away--"
Lock was helping me decide where I was to take Mercury for a date, as payment for getting him home safe after he decided to get himself and Finn drunk.
"Or what?" I asked.
"Or read it out loud." He demanded.
"Fine." I began, "Waiting makes everything taste sweeter. It makes the drop in the pit of my stomach feel that much more real. The anticipation is worth the exhaustion. It's worth every bit of blue paint used to spraypaint my fantasies onto red cars, metaphorically, of course, I would never actually hurt anyone's car, that's unfair and mean and doesn't help anyone--"
"Drax, stop." Lock said.
"What? I know it's a bit cheesy but she's--"
"You're violating her privacy." Lock wasn't amused.
"That's the best part, she knows I'm reading. She's addressed me, she could have taken it back but hasn't yet--"
"Drax, it sounds too personal. Just because she knows, it doesn't mean it's right." He looked annoyed? Which would only make sense if--
"Do you know who it is?" I asked.
"Does it matter who she is?"
"I don't know, maybe it does." I had to know.
"Draxy, you have a date with a girl who obviously likes you enough to tolerate you so why does it matter who wrote the diary?"
"I just want to know." If he knew, it meant that I was closer than I had ever been.
"Drax, she's not real. Let it go." It was almost too personal to him.
"Do you have any ideas for the real date?"
"I do. And I'll only help you out if you hand the diary over to me and forget about it."
"What? No."
"Give it to me and ask for it back if you still want it after the date."
"And you'll give it back?"
"Yes."
I handed the journal over.
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