a note from the author:

rating it mature, because i like to swear casually and reference illegal drug use in everyday conversation, and i know there are children on this site. other than that, and maybe some sex, and i'm not sure how "mature" it is. it's sort of a story about immaturity, in a way. i hope you enjoy what comes out of my brain.

the prologue that never was

"BECAUSE, Jack!" she said. "Some people can't just think all day long like you can. And it's not cause we aren't as smart as you, and it's not
because we "don't get it" like you do. It's because some people don't have the LUXURY of just up and leaving. Some of us have families, and lives, and-- and a place in this world! Don't you fucking get it? Some of us choose not to focus on the hard things. So we can—," she started to sob and choke her words out under huge gulps of air that never felt like they went anywhere. "So i can get out of bed every morning and do what I need to do for the people depending on me. ME."

"I can't leave people because every body keeps leaving me." The sobs slowed. "I never leave."

If Jack could ever actually manage to write something, this would have to be the prologue. This was the exact moment he knew his theory on relationships was true. In a different time, in a different place, if the circumstances had happened to be anything but what they were, he could have really fallen in love with this woman. This version of Popuri which he had never, ever seen.

Jack couldn't tell if this was indeed a new, evolved Popuri (a monster he had created? she does make a beautiful improvement to frankenstien's invention...) or had she perhaps been this beautiful, reflective, raw, INTELLIGENT creature that he had never let his own ego deflate enough to notice before now.

Men don't run away, or purposely confuse their bodies with drugs, or constantly make excuses, or save themselves from any real love and sentiment – all to avoid failure. and pain. and the unknown. For the first and only time, someone had made Jack feel stupid. and it was the work of Popuri Rose: his (once-upon-a-time) loving trophy wife.

Well, never did he dream it possible. Never in his fucking wildest, drug-induced dreams.

authors notes & introduction

hello. i don't really like the prologue too much; maybe i'll change it one of these days.

i change the summary to this story a lot, mainly because there is no possible way to summarize it in such a short amount of characters. so i play.

this is the space where i make updates and answer questions about the story. if you have a question about the story, leave it in a review. if you have already left a review, i enabled anonymous reviewing so you can ask. i will answer any questions about plot, credit & thank anyone for finding mistakes, make clarifications, etc, here. so if you want to know something, just ask.

either way, please leave a review. i seee you lurking :) thanks for reading & ENJOY :D