That title is my t-shirt today. It's supposed to be edgy and emo but everyone misreads it and says Scared? Of what?
I will stand straight, pulling it out and usually they'll continue to ignore the letters and try to cajole me into saying what I'm scared of. It's maddening.
But it's true. My scars are bigger and more prolific on the inside. On the outside I'm rocking a lot of little dings and dents, a couple good size permanent marks in the checkmark under my nose from the skateboard and two caesarean section scars that healed pretty poorly, truth be told. There's also a burn mark on my neck but I can hide it under my hair and it's not as visible as you would think. You have to look for it. I'm also missing virtually all of my fingerprints so touchscreens are fun.
Inside I've got my rebuilt motor of a heart and a hundred million stab wounds from where they've tried to kill me with their love and missed, leaving so many holes water pours out freely when I swim but my heart remains only mildly affected by their efforts.
Lochlan scowled at me, lifting his arm up to let me pass underneath as he held the door open.
Get what you wanted?
No, I remind him for he knows the ever-present craving for the ghost looms large and that the Devil is the only one who can fulfill it.
Christ, Peanut. You make me crazy.
I want company where I am, here in crazytown.
You don't need him, then. Here. Let me check your ear. There's been some concern about blood flow and coloring and I'm a little excited because I've been promised I can see a surgeon and get elf ears if this doesn't work and I still really, really want them.
Aw, it looks great. And with that those hopes are dashed but at least his own are back on track now. As long as I'm physically intact (only scarred on the inside) he can pretend I haven't forced a devil of a boyfriend on him, which is an incredibly unrealistic depiction of what this is but no one needs a refresher.
He's not coming back around this week. It's not a question, exactly.
No, I told him I'm taking a bit of a break now. I need time to think.
Good. I have some news.
News?
Info, maybe. I cleared the week.
Really?
I'll be home. Job's been passed on to another person who wanted it and I don't want it.
What'd Schuyler say.
See you tonight?
Oh, so he didn't mind?
He's always surprised if I take a gig.
Okay.
So we can do some special things. Spend time. Heal your ear properly.
With magic?
If you want.
(I need to find a shirt that says TOO EASILY FORGIVEN.)
I will stand straight, pulling it out and usually they'll continue to ignore the letters and try to cajole me into saying what I'm scared of. It's maddening.
But it's true. My scars are bigger and more prolific on the inside. On the outside I'm rocking a lot of little dings and dents, a couple good size permanent marks in the checkmark under my nose from the skateboard and two caesarean section scars that healed pretty poorly, truth be told. There's also a burn mark on my neck but I can hide it under my hair and it's not as visible as you would think. You have to look for it. I'm also missing virtually all of my fingerprints so touchscreens are fun.
Inside I've got my rebuilt motor of a heart and a hundred million stab wounds from where they've tried to kill me with their love and missed, leaving so many holes water pours out freely when I swim but my heart remains only mildly affected by their efforts.
Lochlan scowled at me, lifting his arm up to let me pass underneath as he held the door open.
Get what you wanted?
No, I remind him for he knows the ever-present craving for the ghost looms large and that the Devil is the only one who can fulfill it.
Christ, Peanut. You make me crazy.
I want company where I am, here in crazytown.
You don't need him, then. Here. Let me check your ear. There's been some concern about blood flow and coloring and I'm a little excited because I've been promised I can see a surgeon and get elf ears if this doesn't work and I still really, really want them.
Aw, it looks great. And with that those hopes are dashed but at least his own are back on track now. As long as I'm physically intact (only scarred on the inside) he can pretend I haven't forced a devil of a boyfriend on him, which is an incredibly unrealistic depiction of what this is but no one needs a refresher.
He's not coming back around this week. It's not a question, exactly.
No, I told him I'm taking a bit of a break now. I need time to think.
Good. I have some news.
News?
Info, maybe. I cleared the week.
Really?
I'll be home. Job's been passed on to another person who wanted it and I don't want it.
What'd Schuyler say.
See you tonight?
Oh, so he didn't mind?
He's always surprised if I take a gig.
Okay.
So we can do some special things. Spend time. Heal your ear properly.
With magic?
If you want.
(I need to find a shirt that says TOO EASILY FORGIVEN.)