Monday, 29 December 2014

Always Golden 4

I wonder if something would happen if he would discard the ring out into the wind.

But I honestly think he wouldn’t and I wonder how metaphorically deep is the ring for me and is it deeper than Kate Moss in my eyes? And in general it’s a bit odd and simply reeks of something wrong, considering the fact that I’m an ex friend which was never sold to the press, that no one ever really said anything once they started asking about Jamie, no one ever addressed the rumors which went round even in my head it was as if he’d always date women and that the past was the same as the shiny present. 

It’s weird to look at him across the table, that he doesn’t look well and I don’t know if it’s emotional or if it’s actually something health related, because it could be both and I watch him, as he avoids me at first and it’s weird, that all of a sudden I’m getting old feelings all over as if they are spread on the table and I’m not even sure why he even invited me, but we used to be friends, so that would explain things, but we’ve never done anything-

What do I even ask? The only question on my lips which is a bit closer than acceptable is if he’s been lying about Alison and even then, would I care? I just feel like I’m back in college, my gaydar yelling at him but never catching him with any men or anything hinting out of his mouth and I feel desperate even seeing this as an action I could count in.

You still dine with people. 

I’m just as dumbstruck as people who would bump into him. But the thing is, my reason is much more simple, I just really really loved him a lot back in the day and I would keep knocking wherever he would live and he would smile and let me in, as we would listen to records and he’d refuse meeting afterwards, saying that he had to band practice and I would just wonder far too much

To this day I regret not kissing him, anytime, regardless of where we were, at any glance, just an attempt at least to lean in as I could picture perfect him closing his eyes and leaning carefully and we’d kiss

what do I ask?

“How’s your dad?” He asks me and I wonder, if the topic of his parents should be raised since it had always been avoided, but his family was at the wedding. Does that mean all is well?

Breaking up with Jamie was unique, because I was the only one who was aware of my own feelings and the lack of his. I couldn’t even reply, staring at him, how different he had looked, how much age had touched both of us and I just looked back down on the plate, nodding, wondering where had all my life gone and how come with both of us entirely different he had seemed to be dragging me to a past where I had started asking him why had he cut off his dreads. 

“He’s alright now...” I pause. “They weren’t together, but y’know, shook everyone. I guess death...”

I try to find the right words and I’m at a loss, like wishing before a birthday cake.

“Makes you open to things and realize how deep the regrets you hold won’t be able to be reversed, I guess.” I say, as he watches me and I see how tense he is. Jamie is still awfully attractive as he’s always been and the latest photos barely do him any justice, because even like he had said they choose the least flattering. And neither is he the cake with the cherry on top for them. He’s solely Mr. Moss and that’s it. I still glance down to the ring and our own frustration seems to be trying to get washed down with alcohol, as we keep ordering more wine, taking long sips, as if we were actually long lost lovers and neither is it my division to ask of Kate, but then what do I ask?

“...How have you been?” But with the recent wedding and it still falls under asking of Kate, so he just takes another sip. He looks around, easing up lightly and I recall how he had always liked suits so it’s no surprise to see him in one, as he nervously runs a hand through his hair. 

“Good.” Is his sole reply. Jamie drinks even more and I try to plunge sober. 

“Well, I see... we’re not doing too well.” I speak out my thoughts, as Jamie just widens his eyes lightly at my suddenness. I tap my fingers on the table, it’s not like I would ever even touch him again, as if I ever had and there is no dice to roll and there is nothing with any man I know and I’m all alone, so some opening would never hurt anyone, because no one listens anyway and I might just listen to myself at least. I still choose what to open up on. “I’m still single, I’ve had a few attempts, Stefan is lost in his own shenanigans, I’m operating but they’ve been doing fucking cuts on the NHS, so the usual.”

I shrug and I know my daily is not his daily. I know that we are both new to each other and the stories I’ve bore to tell are new to him. 

“That’s pretty much all of my life.” I pause. “I was on Peter Hook’s signing a few weeks ago. That’s all my highlife. Didn’t get to read the book yet, I dunno, I think I’ll just get sad knowing everything.”

I laugh. Jamie sighs. He’s not the one to speak on topic, so he waits if I have anything else to tell. 

But I don’t.

I’ve had his silence for years if I would dream of speaking to him. 

And the New Year resolutions would be the same every year.

If I can’t relive first times and first kisses with him, then what do I have? It’s all I have, him in front of me and some sort of twisted way of that doesn’t make anything less bleak or exciting, because the passion and desire are just as strong at any lack of hope and age, just that the media will never say how attractive it is between two men at times and my own mind won’t, because just like ever I don’t push him regardless of how hard I try and want. I look at his right hand which still has the longer nails which he still uses to play guitar and I remember how I would dye his nails. Too much homoeroticism which would make any show envious off all the things we’ve done which ended up in a lonely heap like the hope of the viewers does. So was I, the viewer and the person who hoped. 

He holds the wine in his mouth.

“I guess it’s just like the papers say. Nothing beyond.” Jamie doesn’t expand on it and I think the look on my face resembling cardboard makes us on the same boat as I look away. 

And my curiosity takes me away, but I see he doesn’t want to speak much of it, as all my thoughts and conclusions go through me like a television screen and even if I wanted to walk with him now, just to let night’s lights give some sense of solitude among one another, but it doesn’t matter now, he’s holding me, yet it’s enough. I only wonder if he’s got his eye on anyone and how much can he even speak and if that’s even enough of what’s he said. 

“And yeah, the album is being a drag. We’ve been fucking fighting all the time.” He shrugs. He musses for a while and if we were to squeeze our life in a few sentences that would probably be it, like a dating application with the sentences instead of age and name on the mug shot frame. 


I've been trying to write new chapters for stories which haven't been updated in quite a while, kind of bringing everything back to life really xD and I'm sorry, I know I've promised this chapter months and months ago, but I honestly hope that the wait was worth it:3 if you want more, just poke me, trust me that helps xD sorry if I'm being annoying, just like anyone I love feedback pushes:) 

I think the whole idea came from the whole, yeah, I've had my first times, what now, does that make it less romantic sort of mood. I just think on anything and then I start thinking my thoughts on it and I choose a story where my thoughts would go best, that's why I've got so many. Like I started thinking of fluidity and gender so I wrote some Joyce, Joyce yesterday:) so yeah, expect more of that. I started writing PDD but I knew I wouldn't finish the chapter and since I was in a Brian/Jamie mood I decided to pick up on Always Golden since I knew that I was nearly done with the chapter:) and I even wrote more than usual :3 so that's pretty much the logic of which story I choose and I want to vary since I've got so many, really and maybe not bombard with one sole story and my thoughts race really often so I have as you can see all these plots running in my head. Whenever I get stuck I just pick up another story or already am writing a new one already:) or I have binges when I go and finish a bunch of stories at the same time xD and I rarely do one-shots:) short novels, yeah:)

I had started writing this chapter when I had slowly started finding stuff, so I guess mouth closed on certain things? I do speak a lot. Anyways. Brian's confusion is something I had had.

I had started writing this story when Jamie's finger had fucked up and he hadn't looked his best and yeah, it's quite striking that he looks very different and much much more attractive in real life (not that he's not gorgeous in photos, he is, but it's like even more attractive xD).

I think the whole Brian/Jamie maybe echoes when I had realized being female that I was attracted to females as well and I went on to regret not doing anything, but it's different when you're in a very unaccepting country, obviously. So Brian's story is pretty much, fuck, I didn't get to do anything or never even had the guts to ask really. Only I ended up with a massive argument and a fuck off for good instead of making out, me telling to fuck off actually xD

It's a bit weird to re-read since I do it for the accurate backstories or try to do them xD so it's like yeah, that looks like a good metaphor, yeah, I like that, like what do I say to that? xD

Callie joked that I got the accurate 'remember me' Brian, so yeah which I got anxious XD but yeah, I love writing Brian frankly and what I like about fanfiction it's taking the same characters and putting them anywhere you can, I really love that.

I was thinking how frankly everything becomes new to someone we haven't told that before, when it's daily and boring to us and vice versa. You can pretty much tell the same story to different people all the time to get the same "new feeling" for them. 

Wrote a paragraph for the next chapter just now xD

I actually met Peter Hook back when I lived in Edi, so used that shamelessly. He's lovely and I haven't read the book yet, makes me sad, frankly.

I didn't think that saying something loud would help, so subtleness was used instead and Jamie doesn't seem much of a nagging person right away. And I also added the last bits which were supposed to go for the next chapter, because I get anxious if the chapters aren't existing enough xD

I hope you enjoyed it and sorry for the wait, the next chapter will be up soon:)



Sunday, 28 December 2014

One For The Road 2

The more the thoughts slip away, the more the daily schedule seems like a blur, food slipping away and the clock sometimes being the only reminder that not on the fact that days are numbered, but the fact that desire is wrapped in some sort of self-loathing and all solutions just as destructive seem to bring nothing and there is a desire to be slimmer, just because everything keeps telling me that sizes go lower and lower, headlines go now like earrings into the ears, because there nothing else to clutch on

the desire to be lonely is so distant and seems to be yelling, because there is nowhere to run, just to desire to escape while standing and that’s what I’ve been doing, thinking that the slimmer you get the more attention you get

and backlash is simply grabbing a can of paint and slurring it on the pristine white walls, just to know how much of my own blood I’ve lost and how long will the state of comatose lust continue because he’s Miles’ and there is nothing I can do.

It’s losing against a competition I wasn’t aware of as the phone calls just distort reality reminding me that apparently Alex was never mine to begin with. 

It’s not even that it’s an open relationship, the more I think the more I know how all I’ve laughed about, that sex doesn’t matter, all seems to escalate and I wonder upon Alison’s misery in front of me, as her legs are crossed and she seems to be painfully thin as well. I try to smile at her, as her own eyes keep looking at me in some sort of tense déjà vu, as neither of us mention each other’s lost lovers. The only irony would be if our lovers would intertwine but the world is far more complex than a comedy, which love tends to be.
We are all destroyed by the desire to be loved and the lack of knowledge how to fall upon it, but Alison still seems to shine brighter as her eyes scroll down the menu.
She winks at me.
Maybe I should let it loose.

Miles is surely let alone with Alex. Maybe I should be the one to walk away, but it would get worse, I wouldn’t get out of bed and spend the whole day in a onesie. Alison seemed like something I had wanted to emerge from after a break-up, but I wouldn’t be and asking her to be there for me where silence is our current state wasn’t the best way either. 

There is nowhere to go and nothing to unravel and the mind is shut with the music box playing Miles’ guitar playing which Alex had shown me excitedly. I could see how he was slipping from my fingers and before anything had been properly done he had kept in said loop, but it wasn’t that I had to share it was the sole fact that I felt alone and I knew that he wasn’t mine in any way. It wasn’t that I detested Miles, it was that I detested Alex.
Alison seemed to echo to me of something long forgotten which was the first feeling of relief and me and Alex never went beyond talking of that sole girlfriend, I thought that Alex would be the last point for me.
Alison would always refuse personal questions and if the topic was opened it would always be her even if I had ventured quite a few times myself with my childish curiosity taking the door down.
I don’t think people realize how each and every action causes ruckus or might harm another person in a way they would never speak of it.

Yet lovers are the sexiest people you’ll ever see, yet Alison seemed to have this charm and fully unaware of her sexual energy in a careless matter which had attracted everyone from all genders and sexuality to try and dig their nails into her hipbones, pinning her down since she’s already taken over. She’s really something to see and to remind of how everything you do can be stripped down to nothing.

But maybe we’re all just shards of everything that has ever broken us, building piece by piece like a Christmas tree. That’s what we are. Alison chews on her thoughts slowly, before asking the right questions.

“So how is it with Alex?” Her dark eyes focusing on me, theatrical curtains opening all the stars she could hold just for me to reveal myself. I just shrug, taking another bite of the salad, as we had agreed to take two courses. I wonder if my own silence is the guillotine here, it’s not that I don’t want to talk to her, it’s that I can’t mention Miles and I’m sure she has her own secrets with Jamie and Kate. Something seemed a bit off. But I couldn’t point my finger and I would watch them just like anyone else would, with Alison’s hands intertwining with the lucky couple. But were they actually lucky?

I was sure that Jamie had been happy with Valentine, Alison was out of the question, both eyes would glitter once mentioned, yet Jamie’s past was as if he was covering his face with a book and we all never speak of the pasts we’ve lost. 

“He’s alright.” Her stars shine brighter and just like you dissolve at five a.m. from the wrong confession, from allowing the thoughts intrude and a phone call to declare hate for not loving, so do her eyes hold the spoon to tearing the wall apart. I just shake my head. 

“It’s not even Alex.” I scratch the back of my wrist. “It’s fucking me. I can’t calm down.”

I wish there were no smoke ban anymore and Alison just hurries up with her salad, taking me by the wrist, taking her glass of wine, to the outside, to let the cold night remind us of each other’s loneliness as just like neon it had illuminated our lives with the frost and illusion that we had been cheap. 

“I’m alone and I think I always will be. It’s not even Alex.” I keep repeating myself as I light the cigarette with haste, looking at the other woman in the eyes. Maybe I need to let myself loose and I just smile at her wryly, looking away as I light the cigarette and maybe sex stripped down is nothing as well, recalling Alex. We shouldn’t talk about things which don’t satisfy us anymore and nothing keeps me or him, yet we’re still intertwined just because we should be, as if we had some red string of fate which we’ve never had and bought for cheap just to break with exquisite scissors we both saved up on. We had nothing. I just shrug, my shoulders shaking as Alison just observes me, her raven hair resembling a magician’s curtain only I wish I was the disappearing rabbit, because I would tell myself the rabbit would go to a better place. 



I contradict myself don't I?

I guess I let a bit loose on the Alexa Chung ban, since I was lifting it off Alison to finish the stories with her and One For The Road happens to be one of them. It hasn't been updated since October last year, so rejoice, it will be updated to the end just because I enjoy the story and it is a story touching polyamory even if it's not those y'know happy polyamory stories I go for. And my gender is a complex thing, I felt female today and like writing about women, what really eased me up was the fact that I had written maybe yesterday or so, but people really unfortunately erase trans identities by saying that women are everything, that really harmed me for years, I thought I was a different female and frankly well, I know how a female feels and how is it when I'm male. I know the distinction and I get offended when people think it's clothes, it's not, it's your mindset and actions, your sex drive and more sexual factors at least for me. I don't like being female, but y'know it's a part of who I am, so yeah. I dunno if I wrote this as a male writer, but I wrote it knowing what I was going for, what female is really since I still am one at times instead of being all "everything is woman" which some rad folks on tumblr yell at ya. 

I dunno, NGE really opened my eyes on females a lot. Mainly that I'm not one, most of the time xD

Anyway, so it's quite nice to write females without feeling that pressure, it feels far less dysphoric to write about them whilst not being one, I guess or forcing yourself into one. I know, I contradict myself. 

This is the only Alexa Chung story in progress so feel free to enjoy it and I thought of it, she's perfect for this story and I like taking different people and fitting into their mindset well obviously I erased the cissexism and transphobia, because frankly we don't have non-problematic female celebs these days, so what can you do, ugh. Anyway, I felt it was unfair to discard this story which I had built through fully. Also I just had to keep her for the whole "I'll get skinny so maybe they'll like me" paragraph which frankly is something I struggle with and she was perfect for that. Either way, she's still scum, but y'know, I'll be ruthless and do it, use her for this story. It's still fiction.

I was quite manic today and then I got an anon asking me about why I had stopped writing her and I felt inspired which I'm thankful for and my attention drifted to frankly writing this chapter entirely so here it is:) 

I quite like the phrase of love being comedy, it's quite nostalgic to me. 

I seem to be having every character having different shades of brown, so I've been shamelessly using much more metaphors really:)

I stretched it beyond the intended 1k mark because I wanted to end it on something exciting really xD

I just felt that Alison's name just like in my head, ended the chapter, so I kept it even if it's a bit cliche and something I use often xD 

I dunno I just liked it and I think I'm happy gender-wise, knowing where my genders end and start, really:)

I hope you're all well this holiday season and if you want a story just poke me and I might binge it and push it out:3 

Thank you and tell me if you liked it, that would be amazing



P.S. look, I started using less smilies xD 

P.P.S. I went on the Alexa Chung tag and I want to stick a needle in my eye. I better finish this story fast xD

Saturday, 27 December 2014

To Miles 47

Alcohol was more of drinking with Jamie, giving it a more sudden and dazed feeling to our meetings, making the encounter tilted with something more physical to let our feet wander and tongues. 

I shoved a spoon in my mouth, Jamie still vivid and I didn’t seem to be following the gossip, as Carlos glanced at Brian who was now sitting alone, instead he would be doing something with Jamie or both would read, but instead he seemed a bit out of place, even if he had known everything what to do, he was still more than aware that now he was alone. And he seemed to be watching everyone, just looking around, even a bit lost, just emotionally and if I weren’t such lower of a rank I would join him, but then that would cause a bit of a stir even in my head, so I just watched him and I wondered how would I even approach Brian. 

There is something very bizarre to heartbroken women, which seems oddly obscure to me at times and I wonder if the news had even broken out to Alison and how much would Alison resemble Lana and I wonder how much do we even muse on it, I remember how Lana had broken up and how she would speak more quiet, smoke and seemed far different from how I had been angry and irritated, before sinking into the same thing, only I had felt awful for how long Lana’s empty state kept elevating her into some unknown abyss which seemed to be off limits and I wonder how much the more I blur genders in my head, even those in between, there still seem to be lines, because there always seems to be and I wonder how much do stereotypes fit or is it solely because myself is always static? 

I wonder if Alison would be such and I wonder if it is the female depression and broken state which states that creativity is needed, that the mood is the canvas, but it wouldn’t be for me to know, my thoughts would expand, but it were Matt who would be capable of writing love letters, I could just catch myself describing my day in more accurate ways and wandering into walls which would manage to break my love down, but never did, all I would get is dust in my hair and I would pretend to be blonde, love wouldn’t wash off 

and that which does

is not love, it doesn’t even crash into a wall, it slips through the fingers like an unwanted wasted dream. 

And it’s as if I am eager for something which won’t happen, it’s as if waiting on a shooting star at night and wondering, on the deck, if I were to lay down, to let myself imagine that I would do something like that, make my past more beautiful and give myself memories as if less sincere, but filled with everything I could’ve done and one of them making me wonder, how was Jamie earlier? What had he sounded like as a child, when had his voice broken and had he brushed his teeth to have a tooth fall out back when you would count how many milk teeth would you have left and how much would have the gap felt between us as children?

How many thoughts would be carried before merged into dreams when he had been a teenager and who was the first person he had kissed, how many girlfriends had he had before going with a man and how mixed had his thoughts been then and was there someone there just like Matt had been there for me? But supposedly Karen was the first who properly stirred his mind, prior to Alison and if I registered correctly they had both slept a first time together, but Karen was a woman, who had been the first man? How much had his thought escalated and how much confusion had led into gay bars and how awkward he had seemed, walking in and what had he actually been wearing? Were the cocktails too diluted? Was the music too loud? Were the people yelling as usual? Was it loud? How many raids had there been? Had he ever been asked if he were a queer and liked it up the ass? 

There is some melancholy after education where the part where you learn gets pushed back and out, like dirt and a cuticle, it stops mattering and sometimes in the wrong mindset the question is asked, what was that for and I always wondered how did other people feel after education, when they would progress onto other things? When was the last time I even carried an actual riffle and tried to shoot at something either pretending that it were a person or a target?

It all even seemed fun and games and I wondered how long would the melancholy trail for all of us, since we were always prepared, as if to be kicked out of bed in the middle of the night to solely do something which we would discuss whenever we would have to get some Marines for a brief while on the ship, Julian would be the one asking why had they never flinched at any of Hince’s speeches, but they just stated at least he never did anything else and mopping decks wasn’t as degrading but then it’s not like we ourselves held one person’s life at the end of our guns. It all narrowed down to something more abstract, a ship, not even in a game understanding, but it seemed if I seemed to be going insane and detaching myself further from the shore, I would just be killing another person’s dystopia/utopia, yet for now it were just buoys which someone would have to put in place and then everyone would smoke on the deck for the comic effect.

Once you hear of someone else’s Captain’s, the grass on our ship would seem greener unless they had someone a tad bit lighter, some gunner I had met in a gay bar once, solely because he had seemed drunk, stated that on said carrier, no one cared, he would yell, but it was never personal and at least they never fucking cleansed the ship, because, if some were to cleanse, that would’ve been sounding from the tip of the gunner’s mouth and already dismantled pushed back and up hair, awful, but he seemed to be sure he’d be on the carrier and I wondered if he were just a gunner in the turret, that he waved off the possibility of changing into ships rather than carriers.

I had been too drunk to actually think and care. 

And the more I think, the more Hince’s actions seem reasonable on our dystopian scale, the yelling, the mopping, pushing everything further that I myself wonder who had been at fault, everything happened, every step you take, someone had done it, did you trip on the third stair? So did someone else. Did you lose your hat due to the wind? Someone else did on the same spot, because we still navigate on places which had people, because our world becomes rewritten and if there are so many of us, then we had done as many actions and we are taught the same things, even the same sins, so we all do the same or even inspire others to do the same, so all becomes an endless repetition in a room full of mirrors, only somehow we manage to find some part where we find a physical being or rather a mirror which seems to reflect someone we would love, sometimes we wander into the room drunk and it’s ourselves. 

And Hince had left me on shore leave and the question was plummeting down to my stomach to make me throw up, said powdered eggs, he had still left me. He was getting a second child, but I was left alone and would that be betrayal or just sharing over the blanket over night? And I wondered was it because Alison had called me upstairs and all of a sudden, she didn’t seem heartbroken like Lana, maybe she had known it all and needed to see what was there for me in the future and if it were my death, would all settle, would her sailor actually come back home to a cheating wife as well?

I wondered if there were even cases of wives shooting their husband’s foot just for them to desert and how widespread were some stories, were they because someone had walked on that path or because someone would? Were they the manual or the evening news? 

And how much were we even properly informed of our lives not to hallucinate in front of other mirrors, not see the wrong silhouettes in the reflections? And if to use the words “inner demons” properly, how come we had let them out and how come countries were invaded again and how come we would just watch, destroying buoys? It all comes under fight in your garden against your own bugs, but when someone had broken down the fence what could we do and all we do is finish drinking coffee and see if the stubble had grown enough to shave. 

And Hitler had been called person of the year two years ago now and here he was, Stalin was called person of the year last year. And how those two would roll their dice remained unknown and even our own stance was muffled, because we didn’t agree to protect the world, just our sole country with the wrong demons to fight, our homosexuality was bigger than people actually getting killed and thrown in a turmoil I had not known. Why had we named someone who took half a country a person of the year, because people don’t change, just because the actions initially were different, doesn’t mean that the person actually changed and the flash to capture the photo doesn’t change into someone else, they still look at the world with the same eyes.

I keep wondering where would this escalate and some hidden sense of surprise is surely ready to be released, because we all acknowledge that we will be surprised, only the question is how and how much blood will be on all the mirrors and even if I were to loop, would I even see his reflection somewhere or would I just see blood, trickling everywhere and scattered words in a language I wouldn’t understand, German written all over and more confusion from Stalin’s side for his own chunk and making it wonder or rather confirming that just like I had known nothing outside my own head and perhaps Jamie’s, I knew nothing, so something on a larger scale, on a different boat, if you must, was beyond me and the murders and the crimes committed were as distant as a crime novel. I had known nothing, all I would see is blood and confusion like all of us did

And when war erupts, you ignore it, because it’s still not on your lawn, because we’re told to still fear our lives even if it so happens that we die, the navy goes on and just someone else is put in the turret and in a way you go on, your spirit lives watching and the war becomes endless, no one dead, just out of rounds and the loaders not even goofing off, but solely watching each other, I think that is what happens once you die and the war is over. 

The imagery of bloodied mirrors haunts me, as I try to push it back, knowing that I should solely protect America and that’s where I was. I was preparing for anything, getting enough water in the basin and dunking my head in, right after coffee and pushing me further just to emerge coughing, as if seeing blood already on the mirrors, when you push yourself too hard you feel yourself going insane and it’s not even about desires to destroy, it becomes malicious to the mind, because there is no love to give, no hate to destroy and your own ignorance towards other nationalities fighting your own bloody American, because we don’t care what’s happening and even if we knew, they are still people labelled great by our own mouths regardless of what they do. We ourselves smeared our mirrors and how would I even love a country which falls into hating me for who I am?

How hypocritical am I and when would I break down finally? 

I wonder how bloody were mirrors in Jamie’s mind and how much blood had he spilt and how much had someone abstract like Hitler?

And the mind shifts like a tide, with spitting out water.

I recall kissing his skin and how intoxicating it feels in the most whirlwind of ways, traveling through the mind, shutting everything off and leaving desire in the nude, exposing plain human lust and pleasure. His skin kept haunting me and the whole desire slashed open with the fact that I were alone and he would feel as distant as the shore seemed to be scary, because with Matt I could stash him, I could take him out, I could leave us both waltzing and I had previously known and presumed that the kiss was the furthest we would get, that it would be it, it would be something similar to that one love they would explain which would linger, some broken heart which would always ache, only the problem was the further you go into life, all those which fall apart make sense, only perhaps death is the sole factor which remains love a mystery solved, perhaps Jack’s death is the one which could be glamorized with the gloss of isolation and adoration, as I hadn’t even properly given myself the thought of thinking of him.

It were odd to be alone with my thoughts and ruffle through the whole deck of cards, through all those Jacks in my life and the one dame who happened to be the beard, because Lana for all the officials was something which they expected me to be.

But the older I grew, the more I had been decisive to remain “alone” or with a friend, forever married to the sea, rather than the sailors for the officials and the society in which I served, because no matter which job you choose, you still serve America, you still keep people going, either fed or bred, 

and then there was the question of family blood, my parents ending up bleak at times, because just like Jamie, I would prefer not to speak much, but recall the places I had grown in and thought of Matt, let my lips wander down in my mind, I recall how I had kept wondering how he had sounded like, some carnal desire rising and unlocking all my imagination and the fact that all had happened didn’t tone it down at all, I never understood how one time sex with one partner was enough, it just seemed to make me ride wilder, make me want them much more, letting myself enjoy them, push them further, see how much my own pleasure would rise

and on a sexual note everything seemed to be the same, I would check out Miles whenever I was outside the turret for a quick smoke, the ship resuming the daily boring life and Brian walking around, in a manner like any Captain and Hince would. It seemed awfully nostalgic and the wrong deja vu is played. Carlos leaves my turret for a smoke and that’s when Brian instantly walks into it.

“Turner, keep doing your job, regardless if the Captain is here or not. I need you to fully even bring the buoy back to me at night.” His water coloured eyes look at me and it’s as if looking at Hince, just the fear the first time, knowing what was I used and how was I actually needed to seed out the navy. It’s an odd feeling, as I watch him take a deep breath, shrug lightly with his shoulders, narrow down his lips and mutter, that he’s sorry, before turning around and leaving-

I turn to him fully to see him leave, shaking lightly, as if the first time. 


I guess this chapter is more of a haze and imagery. I'm not sure if my MDD progressed onto bipolar or if I'm having manic/hypomanic episodes, so I guess a lot of Alex's destructive mood through out To Miles makes more sense now. So that had to be mentioned, obviously xD Anyway, onwards.

I dunno, even re-reading to go on the backstory I dunno, I guess To Miles is the work I'm the most proud of and I just love it to bits and Alex/Jamie in this story are surely my most favourite couple I've ever written or created for that matter and yeah, it's was a nightmare to write this and other chapters. I wanted a wee break since I've spent most of November like 98% writing To Miles, so I'm back XD

I dunno the more I have been writing To Miles the more I get interested in ranks, the navy and etc. So yeah, like writing small scenes of Alex wondering about Brian and writing regarding ranks, really.

The heartbroken women was a minor theme I galloped through my stories and I guess realizing my gender it dawned on me that my whole "write women differently" and how I was different was solely because I was male. I dunno, maybe I've been obsessed with NGE and Mishima's depiction of women which are rather destructive but were very eye-opening to me regarding myself. And in general this was written when I stumbled onto Valentine, Hince's ex back from the No Wow era and I took a liking of her, really. So that was the food for thought.

In general Mishima made me think a lot about genders and he greatly influenced me, so I guess, as anything I've ever thought of, thanks to Richey Edwards for listing him under favourite novels. 

I have derealization and now as I found out manic episodes so that just makes me lose and wonder what is real, when I know what is and the whole idea that you can fabricate memories goes through the latest written things.

As I wondered how would Jamie tell Alex such things, the way I asked was the way I made Alex write them down in the journal which is To Miles.

I don't recall many things I've written because it's so subconscious for me to write and then I scroll through and get amused by metaphors such as the dirt and cuticle.

The marines addition was because I had watched Full Metal Jacket with Callie and loved it, frankly, specifically the fact that they had snuck in a gay love line through slang dialogue was marvelous. And of course the first part with the training is the one which just I guess is a big eye opener, I'm sad that they didn't include the line "I'm proud of you" when the instructor gets shot, since that was included in the novel it based of. 

The imagery of bloodied mirror trails after me, as I really liked thinking of that one.

The ending is quite a coda, isn't it?

I hope you enjoyed it, there's many many written chapters so keep checking, I'm still doing one post a day:3

Thank you



To Miles 48

Thursday, 25 December 2014

Tarot Cards

It’s a new loneliness which is fondled over time and sometimes pierces you as the floor is ignored for it’s sole existence.
It’s as if day is nothing besides a whimper and a struggle.

And the angel descents upon it’s tree to remind us all of some miracles waiting to happen, day two is no longer different than day one, as the misery trickles down thicker than blood resolved in Kaworu’s eyes. He had held his silence the first day as I kept sleeping or observing how he would flick through channels as if synching with all he could see.

“Why is Christmas a lone thing to celebrate?” Kaworu asks me confused, seeing all the people in window and online talking of how everything seems stained and we portray the exact opposite of what we sell. We are like a big lottery, we have the brightest of things to gain yet everyone loses just because of the government’s true fingers pulling the threads. 

“Is it because Jesus was born, making birth a time of solitude?” He continues, his questions open, metaphorical and rhetorical, yet he still seems pleased to have caught my attention in days, but we don’t touch in any comfort and I can still feel the scent of death from the kitten around his nails. Killing never goes away neither does mine. 

“So it makes it clear to make all lone, even if we all gather to celebrate with party poppers.” And Kaworu seems like the type which would do the party poppers people seems to point at each other in the movies and he just keeps watching and all is far too closed for us to do much and neither do I want to go anywhere.

“Maybe it’s because of us that Christmas is painted black, because our thoughts trail on the bones of the deceased and there is everything for us to hung upon, yet we still chop down trees, make melodies to symbolize a birth which ends in a tragic death which is only intertwined even harsher with all of our existences.

And celebrating a numbered death is what we always do.” Kaworu says and he stands up to get the kettle, as I continue observing him. “And maybe it is ironic to die on Christmas.”

He pauses, waiting for the kettle to heat up, steam pouring up. 

“At a time of birth do you die, then?” Kaworu gets the mugs, without asking and I wonder how long have I kept silent. “Maybe it is the most symbolic.”

“And if we are the reason for our misery, we should be the one to put it out.” He says rather grimly, as I still remain on the floor and I know that we are a few minutes away from hitting midnight and the anticipation just goes through the veins even further as being with him is as soft as velvet and he places the mugs near us and I can see how regret goes through his mind in a moment, seconds soon replacing bigger numbers and we have nothing but ourselves.

Because in a tale of religion, you end one with one

It’s not a retelling or a cracked sphere

If you were the one to put out your misery,

If you can’t.

Maybe an Angel should.

And it’s your own interpretation to understand who destroys who.

Kaworu kisses me and I ease, breaking the silence in days with my own reply.


I'm not really the most humorous or light writer ever XD so yesterday I was like shit, I literally have no Christmas stories and today I've been binge watching NGE with Callie xD I read the manga, so I'm still half-way through the anime, so my knowledge is all I've read manga-wise and online, I started writing this hoping to be more of something else, but I might pick that idea up again. I don't want to abandon my favourite gay couple. I know there's a lot of speculation regarding both of their sexualities but um, I'll just go with my head canon that both are gay. The more I read Anno's interviews the more I see it and please, this is my head canon but we all know that Shinji was solely attracted to Kaworu and vice versa and as a gay man I want proper representation so yeah:) 

Anyway, I just binged through the whole manga in 3 days and I can't stop watching the anime even if I'm in an awfully cheery Christmas mood xD

We reached more plot resolutions in the anime, so I was like, SHIT CHRISTMAS RELIGIOUS AND THAT AND GAH

anyway, this odd one-shot emerged which I want to drag on or maybe I'll leave this as a one-shot and do a different short novel:) but either way, Kawoshiiiiin T__T

I was editing through out as I was writing as I kind of like how the manga gave depth and deep thoughts outside Shinji, so I decided to voice Kaworu here in a dystopic manner and being heavily depressed I identify with Shinji's mental state and being unable to speak. 

I read that Kaworu died on Christmas in the anime, so that was me being ironic. Again, my blog isn't the most positive xD 

I had the image of them kissing at the end, so that was used.

I'm posting this minutes away from the end of 25th for me and Merry Christmas to everyone and I hope you all had a blast and I'm off to watch NGE further and develop more ideas XD

And yeah, I just added the title, so I'll be pushing the story forwards :) 

Tell me if you enjoyed it and say hi, if well you've stumbled onto me a first time since I haven't written fanfics for NGE before:)



Wednesday, 24 December 2014


“Cancelled last minute?” He asks, taking one of the small leaflets lying around, inviting to unwanted events where people would just be forced to head out of the local, an old version of how to kill time eventually. I shake my head, mumbling until I say it louder.

“No, just pushed back a little bit.” I say, taking a second leaflet, glancing outside as if I were to see Kate, but just like any coincidence, they pass and we stumble through all leaflets that even one gets made fast into a plane by Jamie. I let my eyes rest on him, as if it were me to mend something we had both done. I relax my shoulders and my love.

“Remember the time we got delayed a flight for two days because the fog was so fucking bad?” I say, mouth wide, grin forced. I still capture his attention with something I had been with him. Love dissolves and you’re left with what you were before. So who are you really?

When you read things wrongly do you get it right? Had I still been jealous this whole time? And of what exactly when I had been the one to break off everything just to find myself the one full of paradox and how much internalized hate did I have for the world? If no one could count the bones, how could I?

You shouldn’t be unthankful over the people you’ve met as otherwise I would be another number on the suicide rates and over the years of my own suffocation and his, we drifted and I wonder how does it even work for him, sometimes passing days don’t make sense but they make sense to either longing in a romantic sense or confusion.
We write unhappy stories because we didn’t get ours and we write them to others because a happy ending when there is none is suffocating as well.
And you don’t realize how much it’s sometimes seen where are you from, it adds confusion to the last layer of separation.

And it gets worse because if I were to open to someone new, I would forget all the things I’ve told, even if they were stored in Jamie’s mind, it was as if they wouldn’t be mine anymore to share and it would end up with me not opening solely because I wouldn’t recall exactly what had I first heard on the skatepark, some memories would be erased with his and it would end up in some mutual exchange with me simply not holding the memory anymore.

Are we with people just because they hold they keys we no longer hold with age?

And how would I even present myself to Kate post-coital and I tried to shake off the thought, because I had told myself that sex was sex and that was it, all the love interruption was for me and Jamie to share and stop exploring onstage. 

And all of a sudden a new home emerges, new memories take over and does that mean that they rewrite you as well? So in theory you would be able to rewrite yourself entirely? I seem to look at Jamie and I know that until the very recent we had built each other in a way, even if he were to deny his behalf. A relationship is between two people entirely. 

Sexual resolution eases depression, at least for the post-coital state and it elevates love or anything into love. Misery fills up life and gives it the oxygen, because if life were meaningless, the sense of that is painful in it’s self and how we are free to do anything. There is nothing great in pure freedom, because we end up giving ourselves rules.

Being free is a rule. 


The story has a a lot of twists and turns, but your thoughts and conclusions can change many times a day due to a person, so I guess that's where it comes from, the story is going back to it's roots and I guess how the title suggests, really. I dunno, it's one of those stories which I really like. I like all my stories xD I think updates show it xD I'm also awfully tired so that's why I chose to choose something shorter to write a backstory for because I'm awfully drained and I need to wake early to be frank xD otherwise it would've been To Miles, I feel awful that I don't have many Christmas stories here xD or any in mind, I'll see if I'll think of something tomorrow and of course there's Man On The Moon pleading to get written so maybe I'll have that out:3 which is odd because I'm in a Christmas mood, but I'm not really writing Christmas stuff.

I had binged a few chapters of Threesome, so they were up my sleeve:3 and in general I still love Alison/Jamie as a ship, so yeah. I love writing about them and I love Kate, I always have xD

The fog was actually something me and Callie got stuck in the beginning of the year and I think it took weeks even because it was just so so fucking bad -.- to get out, ugh

People keep us alive, really.

It's quite a "don't tell anyone anything otherwise you'll start missing them" sort of vibe in this chapter, I'm sorry if I've quoted The Catcher in the Rye wrong xD and I kind of had to reread it for my Highers quite a while ago now, it's really weird to see how far I've come in a year, so thank you to all. Thank you

I kind of wanted to challenge Alison's desire to be alone which isn't what she portrays really, so yeah

I hope you enjoyed it and please tell me fi you did:3

and if you want a Christmas gift from me, ask for a story and I'll see what I can do :3



Tuesday, 23 December 2014

I Can't Wait8

Writing a love letter should be so fucking hard, it’s more of a desire I’m guessing which rides to keep expressing yourself more and more and I don’t think I’d do it and now which Alison not even shards anymore, the scars more inner than outer and my own parents commenting on how my dark circles are disappearing and by society getting skinny is a good thing, so I seem to be on the horse on this one.

Only I don’t like the horse, it’s not even that I don’t like horses, I just don’t want this damn one. 

I still wait and I know the tickets are Alex’s love letter when he shows up all neatly dressed and anxious as I watch him smoke one last cigarette before we head in and he looks at me, stripping me bare with some old concentrate love. I don’t know how can you even manage to find the right words to say when you will never be able to say them to someone else again, so I believe beginnings which might be endings may be worse.

He invited me on Christmas’ Eve when the whole city is wrapped in coats and a small layer of snow and he seems to be sweaty and anxious. I have never noticed him as nervous and I feel awful how he had escaped my mind and I wondered what had made him thought I was interested. I never thought much of blokes, my childhood was spent trying to do whatever other kids would, having sometimes crushes on girls and when I met Alison, it was just her, so he is more than a fresh start, he is jumping into a cold lake, without knowing how to swim. I feel odd, but it’s still a person who is interested in me. I wonder how come dates are still so linked to cinemas or is it because we would barely walk alone there or because it’s still too intimate to invite someone over to watch it online? 

Winter seems to be covering all the misery with it’s thin layer of snow, as if it would spring open all the shattered glass to be revealed with the once love in the air only now emmiting form someone else. It was odd to watch them back together, Jamie’s ring now gone as they would sit together and I wondered how much of a dull chapter was I in Alison’s life. I wouldn’t tell that she had fucked a minor and a student, anyway. I didn’t want to fuck her life over, if it was for someone to fuck her life over, it was no longer in my hands, but in of another man who had become a lover once again. 

Maybe it never is about the gender, that’s what I tell myself as Alex stares at me, brown eyes wide open and muttering a hello.

“You didn’t have to come.” Well, it is a free movie. I could’ve said, but instead I smile and offer to buy the snacks, as we walk in, slowly taking off our coats and I realize that he had decided to sport a suit, making him a bit out of place as I’m in a plain black thick knitted sweater for warmth as if we have reached far far below zero. That gives him even more reasons to blush.

“You look good.” I say, wondering what should the rules even be. What do you say? I feel lost with the whole situation, as Alex is just lost himself. 

Maybe I should’ve invited Meg or maybe I should be going for the entire full oppoiste of the former lover. In no fashion I do not see Alison and Jamie and I wonder what would happen. How would Alison handle Christmas, as Jamie would always make the school as Christmasy as possible, making sure all the trees were in place, that a play was to be held. I had auditioned sometimes to do minor roles when younger, when he had just entered, so of course we hadn’t been completely erased off each other’s memory and the fact that we had known each other growing old and held the same woman with the same love, made it worse. So maybe Alex was just a distortion in my reality, as he seemed to have been chosen to be my Secret Santa. I wasn’t even aware that I was enrolled. I have just given Carlos, a guy I barely knew some CDs of bands he had mentioned and that was it. There was no excitement and he had plans with whomever, so Alex was my date for the night. 

I still feel a bit on the edge of my seat, wondering how much had I known about myself, not properly watching the movie and Alex looking at me whenever I would move my hand for the popcorn. In the small theatre I wondered how much would my hesitation glister against his lips. What had I always meant? I lean in and I feel how Alex eases, when I go to whisper against his ear.

“You wanna grab a bite later?” I ask him, not moving back to my seat, watching the classically boring comedy dissolve and I recall how Alison had told me she would watch comedies when Jamie was working, since he got work first and then she claimed she hated them. I wonder how much do we contradict ourselves by the end of the day?


Wow, I haven't written this in ages and frankly the last chapter was published over a year ago :O so that's an awfully long time. Sometimes I get scared of trying out new couples, so I drop it for a while and now since I'm forcing to write/post myself every day, this is what you get haha xD I'm honestly trying to rotate here with stories and trying to update old, loved ones really:) I really missed this story and it was odd and interesting to have an open-minded yet "I dunno what I'm doing here" sexuality-wise character. Originally it was going to be Meg/Jack/Alison/Jamie, but hey, we've got enough straight stories, so why not spice it up and Alex was added when I was at the peak of my AM obsession. I'm awfully sad I didn't get to see the on this tour, but y'know their fault for being full asses and only touring the US widely. 

So yeah. 

There will be more Meg, but Alex is surely a main from now on, is that a spoiler? I really like doing odd ships, the only other story I could think of which had Alex/Jack was Thunder With A Heavy Riff, which I should update sometime, don't worry:3 I'm on a roll and updating everything so poke me away :D and a bunch of stories have things either written fully or just need last paragraphs which I will gladly write, like I just sat a bit and finished this chapter of I Can't Wait :3

Alex's anxiety was taken from where I recalled how anxious Callie was when we just started talking and how awkward she would be, when I am demisexual and I was still attracted, but it took me time and I could see her anxiety and I was like shit, what do I do what do I do xD so that was taken:) Callie's much of a "Imma wear a suit for everything" kind of person so that was taken as well.

I really wanted an open-minded character which wouldn't refuse another bloke really but never really had any attraction prior either. 

I dunno, I guess I have this head canon of Jamie Hince being obsessed with Christmas, so I used that xD

I love the short chapter format, a lazy excuse, haha, not really XD I just like different formats and I love this old one, I ever to it as old because usually my newer stories are longer in chapter length:)

I was thinking of it, I always use cinemas as dates, maybe because I've actually barely been on dates, well, I have, but still barely and I kind of always think of cinemas maybe because that's how I had started seeing blokes, dunno or the guy who stood me up xD kind of, anyway xD I've just been so long with Callie and since we were LDR we'd just live together when one would visit the other, so it's not classic dates, so I'm like date and before I can think I chug them into a cinema xD

Alison and comedies was something that I had read that she hated comedies yet she had mentioned watching many comedies through out interviews so I dunno:)


I hope you enjoyed having I Can't Wait back in your life or I guess meeting I Can't Wait and please tell me if you enjoyed it:3 also keeping up the Christmas spirit :D



Monday, 22 December 2014

And it's a dull Monday

It’s when you do one of those lists and you stop laughing for more than one second even on the whole process not even because I didn’t delete him, it’s because I would know he would be there and we kept it if our stuff was ever scattered and I wondered if it had even reached him or rather what had I been doing now, throbbing with all these ghosts of the past, clicking photos and I had already gone through some painful exes who had kept asking me with who I were but when you’re infatuated with an idea you hold it.
I wanted something a tad revolting and the biggest breaks are the worst because it’s dreaded and him having a W made it even easier to avoid, I could lie to myself that it would’ve solely been it, you know? I wouldn’t able to get that far down, I would have managed to get the most pregnant of silences, taken photos of old mates with hair fully bleached out with their brain, just laughed at asking old friends over, but some things just get scary and of course it was going to be done via Facebook.
I sent it and waited, those were the rules, wait a few days, do something else it wasn’t as if I would take more photos plus I needed to send out the ordered prints.
It’s as if my loneliness now had a name.
He doesn’t slap me with a kiss, which is a thrill of sheer luck of expecting once you see an ex and my own reminder that I need to get laid even if recently I feel like I’ve planted all of the amazon again if PornHub actually plants those trees. Instead he quickly smiles, as if preparing, then quickly hugs himself as if to ease down, before we go in the queue. I can’t stop staring at him at how his curls are entirely gone and how he just holds him hands in his pockets, before scratching an eyebrow. Maybe there is nothing else to say.
I didn’t even expect him to even answer but with all the throwing of long lost items of clothing in each other’s suitcases he probably presumed I had found something I hadn’t wanted and it was as if he were to ask if now it was him who I had forgotten and time travels upwards, we’re here, we’re queer and we don’t even want to speak and I’m sure the camera caught all the insignificant of a breakup, his bitter smile, confusion and tense shoulders, that was all I needed.
I wanted to expose my life, maybe because I was dying in a sense, we all are. I still checked him out, time makes me forgiving and later I had gone to date and rumbled around to actually wonder why hadn’t we opened up our relationship and how come we never tried anything more civil and he would yell at me because I got angry that he chose a woman over me. It falls under my ex went for someone blond, I hate blondes it’s illogical and it’s an asylum for hatred. I just hated that there was someone else, that I wasn’t enough and that we took months to move out, sell the place an find other places.
My hands shake as I type in the pin code and Jack just nods, as if he were reassuring me about something but then looks away, wondering how an old person becomes an old habit.
I’m alone and so is he, his crumbled marriage went across with words and his lovers were for all to see and feel, all seemed similar and all seemed to be women, then he dated some men, women, his list of people was always longer than mine, I would get drunk, he’d get laid. I still had my disasters, but at least I’m not the culprit of each and the talk which follows holds no photos for the exhibition, yet I clutch to the camera in hand, before shoving it into my tote bag, putting it with me, as we sit. I don’t even bother to take off my leather jacket, Jack just trying to look past me, before we lock eyes.

It’s odd to think how far we go back, that we had been that one high school sweetheart couple which everyone thought would last, that we had thought we were just experimenting when frankly Jack could’ve gotten laid easily and still does, looking back we’d even be the subject of porn, two straight guys who would deep throat on the first go. It was odd to imagine that we denied our sexuality and would fuck each other, experimenting, saying what we had wanted to try in the dark until school ended, we enrolled in university and it seemed more than obvious to both of us after three years of fucking each other in a boarding school, that perhaps we were a couple indeed and we were gay. So we had went through institutions, houses, jobs and everything only to have everything crumble eventually. It was as if what we thought would’ve happened in the first year happened, Jack had found himself some girl, only now it was different with me sitting with a pen, a photo shoot to start later in the day wondering where to seat people before the invitations to the wedding were even sent off.

If you’re not the one whose feelings withered, they never will and with every little break up the lost love has, hope is given. And neither do I want to be alone, my hands shake as I carry my coffee, wondering if this place is a tomb of his ex-wife since I would always see her with a cup of coffee from here. It seemed cliche to do it here but then you can see who gives into consumerism and who doesn’t, who knows what to order and who doesn’t. I fucking do apparently, twenty people below. I wonder if it would’ve been different if I hadn’t known his ex-wife who seems to try and see if she can do something herself, but I have seen her slowly fade out and her photography soon to be forgotten hopefully, you never like people who you were told were better than you.

Would Jack be one of them?

“Do you come with some specific list of questions, Jamie?” I feel as if I am injected electricity with some lost memories of how his tongue feels once he says my name, pinned down, angry or even leaving, with a small nod and boxes or calling my name out for the first time, still feeling foreign, years and years ago. When there are many years to forget it gets worse to build new memories, as if there is a server overload. As if we had both ran out of film or forgotten how cumbersome it was to be in the same room. It feels odd, as if all the anger had decided to come back to me, with all the waiting once he and Alison divorced, everyone had started telling me that Jack was constantly talking about me and the more I would throw the ball against the ceiling the more desire would crash, love unresolved would nag deeper and deeper in my knees, feeling the same love as if I had been falling in love for the first time again.

It would start getting worse, the hope and rereading the not ripped love letters, as if they gained a purpose and by convincing myself I would tell myself, that I wasn’t alone, that if I hadn’t changed, nor had he. 

Anger seemed to be a forgotten lollypop, I was sucking on it viciously. I had too many feelings and turmoil, as he just took out his phone, as I sighed, opening the coffee lid to blow on the steam, watching him text back.

“Sorry, my girlfriend wasn’t too happy meeting my ex-fiancé.” He mutters and I just straighten my back. Never a moment single. 

“Oh.” I snap. I take a sip, it doesn’t matter that it burns my throat, he burns it even more. “Of course.”

I tap my fingers on the table.

“Not with the ex-wife, but with the bloke ex-fiancé-”

“Jamie, it’s not that-”

“Yeah, ‘course.” I would leave, but the only excuse to stay is the fact that I do have to at least finish drinking the coffee even if I want this all to end in a way that I leave to be greeted by my dog, confused why hadn’t I taken him with me, Jack a long forgotten puppy memory. At least we hadn’t adopted anyone at the time. I was always confused how come he never got children with Alison, since he always told me once we tied the knot we should begin an adoption process. I think maybe once it runs its course there is solely nothing to speak about and I can see how we have both aged and resorted to hair dye. His hair is now much shorter and better built than we had first laid together, letting out thoughts wrap the confusion around our lips and believe that there had been something fated between us.

I recall how we would stay up until no stars would shine and the clouds would be the mirrors in the woods. We had gone everywhere, sneaking off campus and wondering how much more had we missed as everything seemed to be dissolving like a badly made rope, we seemed to unthread and I could no longer feel when he had touched me only to find out from Alison’s own mouth that she had been fucking Jack and she wanted me to tell, since Jack didn’t want to and I had thrown the dinner plate at him, asking what the fuck was holding him if the love was no longer an attractive withering rose, the water was all drained and there was not even blood left on the floor. There was just his empty reflection, no apology and slow packing of bags as I had smoked outside, waiting for hours, not even crying, buying cigarette pack after another, walking in circles, allowing Archie to digest that Jack would no longer be. 

I feel like a reminder of what I once used to be is upon me, from meeting all people, from saying how much it had been made because it was just another project and people want to see their faces on photos and it seemed something interesting and I wondered if I had wanted me and Jack for everyone to see. It seemed awful, the whole thought and I kept drinking as Jack kept watching me, leaning in lightly.

“So, how have you been?”



Unforgiven to myself? And I had that written on the walls, sometimes just sitting on the floor, petting Archie and wondering how much would actually tip me over that the fear of death would surpass and actually allow me to leave everything with Archie becoming a sole dog to eat my flesh. 

You don’t admit to a former lover that you’re so lonely that even the ghosts of the pasts seem like a solution to keep one alive, when photos become mechanic to tell stories of others because yours is only a step away from death and a trip to someone else’s numbs reality better than any valium. 


I think I'm following the theme of being annoyed at writer's stating that they are against fanfiction, when they base things off real events (*cough* Poppy Z. Brite *cough*). In general I was in a rather depressed mood, I guess with all my life being a horrid turmoil, I have to admit that I just lost faith in people, so if I'm bombarding your inbox I'm honestly trying to get back in touch, communicate and have friends, I guess. I've just been rather torn since the parcel incident and yeah, I have to get back on track and I do like people and regain trust, so if you ever wanted to talk to me, I'm more than happy too and trust me I'm awfully cumbersome and awkward xD

Anyway, this idea sprouted to me as I was going through note-worthy tumblr blogs and I dunno if you've heard of it, but has a good idea, but obviously just like anything in the world it's through cishet eyes as far as I got to see, so I just scrolled a bit, intrigued by the idea, but I honestly expose no interest in cishet worlds, so I was solely interested in the idea. What I found interesting is that well, classic trope of meeting with the ex and I liked the approach and I just got sad that I couldn't find anything gay similar to that, so I started writing, fanfiction as I tend to do, making it a Jack/Jamie. But it's an interesting blog and I still check it, just that… it's rather alien from me and something shoved in my face and the idea is cool, I've seen it before, so of course, here's the credit and I hope all goes well there.

I've been awfully ticked off with tumblr and people, so I think I speak of it more than anything. I just hate how ignorant the world is and frankly blind. I also got depressed that Ultraviolence is going unnoticed when after Blood Pressure's it's surely the best album the '10 have given us and I believe will give us (*nudging Kills to do something*). 

I think December is an odd month for me because I had beginnings and endings of relationships and for some reason since I seem to be talking to people about break-ups I recalled my first every break up and how drained it had left me. I had kept in touch with said ex for quite a number of years and we would meet up. I'll go on it in more detail, as I go through the chapter. In general I just wish we had less accents on women, I'm frankly tired of seeing In The Flesh is good because of Jem Walker, not because of the queer couple, but the fucking cishet women and I was going to finish Disaster today, but then I was like… fuck this, we need more gay men and here I am. I hate so many things, like many assume that if I bash Minaj I'm racist, if I bash Minaj, I'm sexist, when it's frankly due to transphobia. What you honestly expect me to keep my mouth shut when someone says I'm not a real man for not having a penis? And being POC is not your golden immunity. It revolts me and sometimes I just want toe top caring and write, hoping that fiction is enough. I don't feel enough, I'm functioning, but my mental state isn't too good because I keep getting yelled that I mean nothing. I am someone, yet because I'm a transman I'm erased for the sake of people who only sing transphobic songs and empower women. With what? Empower with transphobia?

I feel like I speak very loudly with my fiction, more than I would in the backstory so I focus more on what I had felt rather than what inspired me or explaining these days. I hope that's a good thing. 

I dunno, old habits die hard and I guess a lot of this story was based off as I ended up writing how me and said ex would meet, the awkwardness and when I had found out that he had broken up with the girl he had left me for, I was just rather angry and I had wanted him back. It was an awful disaster and I'll see I think I'll use it on for later:)

I guess just like many, maybe because I started like that, but it's nice to discover who you are with someone else, even in the deepest denial, so I had that and I used that. I had that a few times since I'm fluid both sexuality and gender-wise:) gender and sexuality are rather hard to discover so here we are xD

It's odd when an ex says your name, it's like an old drug injection, not too pleasant well if the ex is an asshole of course:)

Alison is always with a Starbucks takeaway, so yeah. I just wanted her as Jack's ex as I really like Karen and still ship them quietly, another doomed OTP of mine xD she has a lovely instagram by the way xD

I just binged through and I hope you enjoyed it and please please tell me if you did, title explained later:)