I really don't know what to say about this. It's just an idea that's been on my mind for awhile.
Maybe it'll turn into something amazing. Maybe it'll just be another shitty story.
But I'll give it a go.
I apologize in advance for the terrible writing.
It happens to be around 2 in the morning.
I couldn't sleep so here I am, writing this epic failure. xD
Prologue.
The Kill by 30 Seconds to Mars.
People deal with their emotions in different ways. Some take their anger out in painting, running, even drinking. Some find relief in violent actions, some in self harm. Some even in giving themselves up to random fellows at a bar as if they were nothing...as if they were useless. I've tried all and the only remedy that's worked for me is writing. All anger or hurt or anxiety I feel easily transfers onto paper or wordpad. It's my escape and I use it every chance I get. So here we go…I'm writing the events that have caused to me to...slowly die inside I guess you could say.
I've had my fair share of wounds and scars, but they've always ended up as lessons learned and I moved on. Somehow he is still embedded into my every thought. I can't even listen to a fucking song without his name repeating through my head, almost as if it were a broken record. Why is he with me every where I go? Maybe it's because I was always the manipulator. Then he came along and suddenly I became the one being manipulated. Every single one of my rules vanished from my mind. I fell into his traps, the ones I knew so well for I had previously been the one setting them. I disregarded the signs. I told myself this wouldn't end badly...but it did. It always does. Oh if my brother could see me now. I knew exactly what he would say 'What goes around comes around. If you can take what you give, then that's your fault.' Some support group I have, huh? I deserve it though, every single ounce of pain inflicted upon me. I let myself implicitly trust him even though I knew how he was. I knew he wasn't looking for anything serious, he was just enjoying himself in the midst of a game and I knew the game fairly well for I had played it. I knew the only rule was to wrap someone around your finger for the longest time possible. Make it to whatever you want or need, the person would be there in a heartbeat. Then leave when the feelings started to get intense. I knew that you should always escape unscathed whilst your partner was torn asunder. I knew exactly what would happen but the stupid, naive part of me thought maybe this time would be different. That maybe, just maybe he would end up feeling the same as I did.
It wasn't and he never did.
He had told me he needed time. That we could still be friends but all intimate doings would be postponed. I agreed.
I had waited months for him. I tried calling, texting, even fucking emailing. I was greeted with silence and I couldn't understand why. It was as if he had disappeared off the face of the Earth and I had no idea what I had done. I did as he wished. I said what he wanted to hear. I even escaped my comfort zone to please him. So why was I being ignored?
I was in the midst of mailing a letter when it had hit me. I had been played. Suddenly the game I use to be apart of didn't look so...enticing.
I realized that I had become the victim instead of the culprit.
I realized it wasn't much fun being on the opposing side.
I realized that I would never, ever be the same bubbly and happy girl I use to be.
And I realized that I was desperately, madly, and selflessly in love with Jasper Whitlock.