Sunday, 4 January 2015

To Miles 48

"You know when you start thinking about the world and its slow proxy wars in the words that are spoken across by other people, you freak the shit out.” Was spoken by Julian during lunch, as my mind kept racing, galloping through the day to turn into days.
“I think there’s a lot of things to freak the shit out.” I don’t hold, muttering as even Thom and Jonny turn to look at me and I stop briefly at Thom. I had barely even spoken to them, we all realize that nothing can be done and our dialogues are brief, we are taught that we mean nothing, that all is worthless and in the end of the day it is solely countries which fight among themselves and we are as thoughtful as someone’s pinkie, now the ship may be an elbow, but that would be it and solely. “Everything is a puzzle and we happen to be pawns.”
I speak far too slowly and I keep looking at the mug of coffee in front of me, which is far too hot to be drank, so all I do is trace my fingers down. I barely even know them and of course there is no desire from me and from them to know me. 
It would be suspicious to even send off any of them and I wonder upon who would my hammer fall, who would I even be able-
The day goes on, I even lay on the bunk bed, as if preparing myself to zone out entirely and I know that all days will be the same, that I wouldn’t surely get the rush of thinking that solely hours were left from just looking at Hince and actually fucking Jamie, but then even throughout the day I could catch myself looking at him that even once he raised his voice and told me to fuck off and mop the decks, that night I had fucked him harder, make him moan heavier against my mouth-
And everything seems to be shattering-
I don’t even care when Miles opens a storage room and yanks me in, would it be the same, as when I had walked into Jamie to let him fuck me, instead I speak against Miles’ lips, as if the word were Jamie’s and I wonder if my meaning is to be a metaphor towards their love which seems to have destructed both of them, only Miles seems to be the victim and the culprit, like someone abusing themselves on purpose, a form of slow malicious torture.
“Miles, I don’t love you. It’s not even that I have to make up my mind. I did, you didn’t.” And he just stops and I realize how much shattered I had been the whole day, not to notice the light gray hairs on his left temple and I wonder how many destructive thoughts have gone through his head, instead he sighs and slides down and I look at all the ropes, the boxes all sealed with things written across in markers and I just slide besides him. 
Maybe those who can’t have sex with you, desire something platonic because they think you don’t need consent for it?
It seems to be the case.
Miles doesn’t care and takes out a cigarette, lighting it and giving it to me, as I refuse and he just doesn’t even look back at me, dragging it back to himself and mechanically breathing in. 
I wanted to break my hand against the last coffee mug, because pain wouldn’t null me, but it would surely alter my view and I wonder how far does my depression stretch and if it were the waves of the ocean how long would it be until I would fully drown? How far would it be until I would fully give up and my heart would fail? And how long would the blood even trickle down and I wondered how come my head seemed to be fizz around that I couldn’t even properly concentrate on the fact that Miles had leaned towards me, I didn’t seem to care about anything besides the lack of Jamie’s touch and nothing seemed to numb it out, before I would numb out the awaiting feeling with wine, but I had forgotten to get alcohol and it would be a while before a shore, I could feel my blood pressure rising and my heart aching, my emotional pain was broadening to physical and making me hang off a tree, I couldn’t handle it, depression was far too loud, the pain far too unbearable and maybe I could’ve cut the throat in an awful, cliche matter just to make my death nearer and perhaps somehow drag Jamie selfishly with me, maybe I could haunt him, maybe I could curse him with me-
Just him.
And all this time I was watching Miles smoke the cigarette, watching me.
“I was like that when Jamie would be on shore leave, fucking Alison.” He said, smoke leaking out with each word and I wouldn’t get my eyes red, instead I would turn to look at him and wondering how come the way we had snuck before seemed far less pleasing tan the one with Jamie and it wasn’t even about rooms or positions, Miles himself seemed to be drowning me more than Jamie or was it solely because of betrayal? We had made out here before and now I had cut that off. “I’d be jealous as fuck.”
I just shake my head, my whole body trembling, requiring sleep because then I wouldn’t be sober with life and reality dawning on me with the days becoming shallow mathematic lesson numbers which just would escalate into ridiculous numbers of oranges and apples forced into trucks with weird people who would want to get them to New York from Dallas and manage to meet a train halfway, yet all the graphs we would have to draw seemed to symbolize that said orange/apple carrying American would crash into said train. Maybe they did. I wouldn’t drive around with 300 000 oranges at some low speed. I would want to hang my life, solely because I don’t want it. 
I wonder if it’s because Jamie had told Brian and I wonder how much of Brian’s words are actually his own order and how much had there been from Jamie and I wonder if it’s sexual distraction and we had never properly discussed how had each sailor fucked me, I would sometimes go in detail, but it was never anything arousing, just like anyone else would tell you about their sex life if they had dared to open up, it would’ve have ben hot, but it’s not yours truly to share or enjoy or even masturbate to. You’d have your own dirty fantasies to unleash. And it was as if I had tried to portray Jamie as a villain in my head with the aid of Miles, but no matter how much I would call myself a metaphor for their relationship it would still not work, so I let myself loose. 
I still pay attention to Miles. 
“I’m not really.” I muse on it. Alison is his sister and I still don’t feel too trustworthy of someone who had given up on me when I was in a worse state than I am now and I wonder how come he is even here, but then it wasn’t a question whether I was okay, like Jamie would listen to me, to whatever bogus I had decided to speak of, he had slowly started drinking himself the more I would speak and then he would offer and slowly we would progress to sex, as if I had been ashamed to properly have sex with him, the memory gnawing and cumbersome. But I had wanted him and I would initiate it, as he would follow and I wonder how long had I lingered in his mouth, thoughts and it occurred to me if he had touched himself to me and the thought seemed to excite me whilst being in a storage room with the wrong man.
It seemed dawning, as if the sun itself would break in two as if a non-powdered egg.
I wanted to be free and I wanted to be threatened by the actual laws of the shore, I didn’t want to be protected by anything besides Jamie physically being with me.
Three months.
Three months.
Maybe I should let time go, let the brain run because once everything is numb, all is let and nothing is spoken, that’s when time goes. Misery reaches a tomb and then resurrection comes with life just as bleak until it comes. 

And maybe by just thinking of Jamie, I just want my soul to be shattered to as if think that nothing would happen, that the letters wouldn’t come, sometimes I wish my time were more miserable, as if I could be pushed forward, fast forwards towards the point of suicide, a thought circulating as if a shark, but never attacking for I have not cut myself yet.

It’s my misery which progresses and I know that Miles is not interested in hearing it and at the same time, I’m not interested in listening to his and I wonder how long will I even hold from opening said letter and I wonder if I would be blamed for not opening it, once Paul had gotten mad at me when I had felt that nothing was going to happen further, I hadn't read the book and he had gotten mad at me and during the break up he just announced that he was through, that I wouldn’t even read a book he had given me. I wouldn’t have because I didn’t want him on my mind-

I wanted to run away from missing Jamie, because I knew that I would cry and I would be called by Paul that I hadn’t cared and the insomnia seemed to be adjusting itself to attack me, pouncing at me, the sleepless night trailing reminding me how far away I was from sleep because prior I had barely slept with Jamie, the stained bed had started bothering me, from too much sexual fluid and I would wake, Jamie sitting besides me and we would even drink ourselves to sleep-

I wanted my misery to be shared and kissing Miles out of my own pity was surely not in my plans and people kill themselves when the revolver becomes the option out of the thoughts being far too loud, from self-doubt reaching but we had all hated the reflections in the mirror, we had all shaved our face until we had cut ourselves, fixed our uniform, chewed our food thoroughly as if that would’ve helped us deal with ourselves, it never does, we continue waltzing in self-hate and the more I see the worse I feel and maybe my thoughts mute down a bit, because when you see someone else miserable, you feel better, because


you’re just not as bad as they are now. 

I’m not even suicidal yet I’m thinking of suicide, I am allowing myself to be dismantled as if I were a rifle, because my thoughts drag me on and they are more depressive than myself. 

But then maybe it is the death of oneself to wait?

And I can’t hold my thoughts, it just goes worse when you realize how much you love someone and that’s when the thoughts blur and your own problems become superior, not mattering because if you start thinking of ghosts walking Europe, it consumes you, because it’s just a matter of time and fear until all will escalate, at least to those who allow themselves to speak whilst drunk or even in bars and everyone says that it solely doesn’t matter and that we will never go down in history as gay, single, yeah, but never holding another man’s hand, we never will, we are always erased and we become as if we were a myth from the mouth and all gets sadder when thinking and you can’t really stop. 

“I used to be really jealous of Alison.” I can’t say that Jamie had told me, but instead I keep my silence. He looks at me, the question forming, as if he were trying to build a friendship but all the destructive thoughts just circulate and the annoyance at all of our silences, because we the queers still hold society, how many do you even know are there, when we are all silent? What if we are all queer and just afraid of each other because we were told so? The scariest are always queer, Jamie nodding in his Captain hat and his first metallic kiss. “Are you a sole child?”

“Yeah.” I say and Miles just nods, tapping against his foot, before raising his brown eyes to look at me, they remind me of an autumn I don’t miss with the falling leaves and there’s hope that spring would come instead of a winter where I had burnt all the trees down for motherfucking good. 

“It’s not like... parents ever did anything. Children are just cruel and so was Alison, she didn’t like... hearing things, she really didn’t like it, I don’t know what had she heard.” He pauses. “Supposedly she had met the Devil as a child. At least when you place all the facts in place, it makes sense and after that, the voices got worse, she would hear everything, she would feel as if she had been possessed with nothing attached, because she was so... yanked open, because that’s an enormous power.”

His eyes fix on a point in front, stretching out his legs. 

“I don’t know how that happens, because they tell you... that you have to summon and she didn’t, maybe something crossed her mind. She barely speaks of it, but once refused, she had heard everything even more, cards were even easier to shuffle, all of her energy was at her disposal and she could’ve been a medium, but she said she never wanted to peek again.” He clicks his tongue. “It’s interesting to hear her speak of it-”

I would never hear it now.

“Because sometimes she speaks of it, her hands still shaking and you know she’s seen the eyes of the Devil, he shape-shifts, but just think of it-” He notices my shiver. “You always get that when you speak of him-”

“Thing is, when things get rough, I start thinking...” He watches me.

“I would trade, for Jamie. I really would.” I feel my blood go cold.

“But I didn’t, because I never got asked.” I look down. He leans closer to me and lowers himself to see my eyes. “Would you?”

“I don’t think he’d be interested. I’m not a fortune teller or a medium to be.” I mutter, looking away and sitting up. 

“The question remains, would you?” He smirks and I just fix my collar, thinking and recalling the cards.

“No, because the cards told me he’d be mine.” I push the door open lightly to see no one and I’ve had enough of my Devil’s talk, I haven’t been admitted regardless of the souls I’ve given to something much more physical and much more shallow than hell. 

I stop, 


I look back.

Miles is still there, a cigarette lit and I close my eyes to close the storage room, not to think of it. I wonder if I were to close the door if he would disappear, but instead I just make my way to my bunk, all my being shaking and I wonder if it’s because I hadn’t felt anything and maybe looking into the eyes of the Devil isn’t supposed to be as scary because you’re either a sinner or maybe because it shouldn’t be, it should be some stupid duality of nature. 

I sleep until dinner, hoping my thoughts would sober up but once I see Miles again, I notice how different he seems now and I try to push the thought away.

“Miles?” I ask and he barely looks at me. I don’t even know what I want to expect and I wonder how are we to even live with the supernatural and does that even mean God would exist or is it solely the Devil we are given? Is it why war reigns on this turn? Is there no God and we are no children of God? We are solely alone and even late for dinner and I wonder how much daily can life even get?

“Did Alison actually meet the Devil?” I mutter, a shiver running down my spine and he just turns around at me, confused and that’s when I feel my blood go cold. 

“When did I tell you that?” He asks, confused, looking at the door and then back at me. “Yeah, she did, why?”

Miles starts redoing the bed, confused and awkward in this cumbersome conversation and I just sit up lightly in my bed, feeling the nails get traced upon my skin, fear seeming to bathe me down and hands pushing me down and I wonder why had the Devil even taken Miles’ shape. I always wonder what shaped would he take, the more I would talk to Alison. I keep my silence, so that Miles turns around and faces me. 

“She met him when she was a child, supposedly, that’s when her gift got stronger, a gift from the Devil, she would joke, but it wasn’t really, it pounces around in our family.” Miles doesn’t pause and just continues, in the same breath. “Alex, why are you asking?”

I just gulp down.

“Have you ever met him?” He just shakes his head and I feel myself tremble even more and I even wonder if I can even speak out or say and I know that my voice would break in all pieces and fear would crucify me ironically. Miles just turns around and looks at me. His face goes a bit pale and he looks around.

“Did you pray?”

“No, should I?” I ask as fast and then he does a cross on me. He bites the back of his hand and I see the prayer going through his head and I fail to even recall even one of the sentences. 

“You refused, right?”

“Yeah. Of course.” I mutter, shrugging as Miles keep doing crosses on me and I keep watching his horror unravel. Then he holds me by the shoulders, before pulling me in a hug, for some reason I wonder where does his rumoured envy even lay, I wonder how deep if there is the hatred and jealousy lies for Alison and what are even their relations and how come everything seems to stumble on the Unspeakable? 

Is it because we are about to face the greatest war of our lifetime, which won’t be about the individual, it won’t matter because we will all be hunted down and pressed for any difference we have, solely for not being someone else? 

“Try not to think of it, it happened. That’s it, you refused, all will be fine, Alex, I mean it. Alison was also scared shitless.” He pats my cheek and I just allow my eyes to linger on his as if I had see a different shade prior in said storage, but my soul seems to have done a full somersault and I feel as if I could pour salt all over me, but he’s right, supposedly it’s just once and I solely wonder why was Jamie the offer? Was he the unattainable one for me? Was Matt easier to get than Jamie? Fear escalates on the focus of the moment and injury. 


I kept musing, I want this to happen, but I don't think Alex would have an encounter and I guess since it was nearing the end of Nanowrimo, I was like fuck it, I'm doing it, this is fun or whatever, exciting to describe, I dunno, maybe I write too much about it but it would be weird if in a spiritual story like To Miles I wouldn't have a bizarre encounter and frankly this chapter is freaky and I was thinking to publish it last year (haha, like last days of December) but I was running around so here it is:) 

I actually wrote a bit more of the 50th chapter xD (yes, I'm that far ahead xD)

I was rather depressed writing it and using my own missing state to write more accurately regarding Alex missing Jamie and these chapters are the most painful to write, but my lips are zipped and I'll explain on the next chapters :)

I guess I can't complain at people hitting on me at times, but I get pissed off because I had plenty situations when people wanted to go platonic with me since I refused to date them, as if it had a different undertone, so the phrase regarding that was my small significant cumbersome phrase rant.

The small description of Alex's and Paul's break up was something I had with my ex, I didn't check out her mix tape because we were on a rocky path and I didn't want to think of her, so I avoided it and I got yelled at that naturally, so I had used that.

I kind of used my experience regarding Alison's as well and 500 also has that. It's very odd to be yanked open, so yeah.

I also kind of used I guess something I touched briefly before, because you get offered what you want the most, really, sort of a NGE when Kaworu shows up to Shinji before he turns into LCL (LCL yeah?) in the End of Evangelion, so yeah. So yeah, I dunno I believe in fate tremendously, so yeah, cards told me, so here I go.

It also makes you wonder a lot. It's odd and yeah. Refuse if you ever get anything like that.

I hope you enjoyed it and thank you for all the support you've given me

Tell me if you like it so far:3



To Miles 49

No comments:

Post a Comment