Note: You're just gonna really really have to forgive me for this one. I'm really, really sorry. ::hangs head::
--
I stood at Devi's front door again, only this time I did not knock. I just opened it and went in. I sat in her living room and waited for her to come out. I didn't know exactly what I was waiting for, because I never had a guarentee that she was going to come out, and even if she did, I had no guarentee she wouldn't throw me out.
After a long time, I don't know how long, she did come out of the kitchen. She was dressed up. I don't remember how, I just know she was pretty. Even if I did remember, I probably wouldn't tell you, because I don't care much for clothing unless it's on my bedroom floor, and I can't stand people that describe clothing for paragraph upon paragraph. Guess what, middle American waste pile? It really doesn't matter that fucking much!
She was really pretty. I stood up realizing that I was fucking dressed up too. (To see what I was wearing, read above paragraph. Thank you, -Managemnet.) She came over to me and gave me her hand and we left.
We went to a party, I think. It was full of all the people I ever killed. It was in a pretty house but Devi and I were the only people dressed up. We danced. We danced together and we danced with other people, and when the slow songs came on, we danced together some more. This went on for a pretty long time, until my favorite song, Got You Where I Want You came on. (See also, The Flys). We danced together. And we were really fucking happy. Which was new to me. It was a weird feeling that I'd pay any money for to have a drug to induce such a thing again. And I took her chin in my hand and I made her look at me, and I went to kiss her. And just as I did such a stupid thing
She stabbed me in the stomach.
I fell back from her, but she kept her arm locked tightly around my thin frame. She did it again, and it hurt. I find myself kind of numb to such violence, but it struck me like The Shining strikes a five year old: full of fear and pain. Very, very clearly. She stabbed me twice more and threw the knife aside. She unzipped my fly and kissed me on the neck, and whispered very purposefully in my ear, "Johnny C, I do believe you'll be above the stars soon."
I came very quickly, humiliatingly enough (feel privilaged I told you that) and I woke up in a cold sweat on my bed, trembling like that cheerleading bimbo. For a moment, I'd felt like I had something to live for, and it'd been taken away. I felt like a hundred people who I took away everything from. And laying on that bed shaking like a scared rabbit, I finally understood what it was like to loose something. I lost my last shred of humanity because
I still didn't care.
--
I stood at Devi's front door again, only this time I did not knock. I just opened it and went in. I sat in her living room and waited for her to come out. I didn't know exactly what I was waiting for, because I never had a guarentee that she was going to come out, and even if she did, I had no guarentee she wouldn't throw me out.
After a long time, I don't know how long, she did come out of the kitchen. She was dressed up. I don't remember how, I just know she was pretty. Even if I did remember, I probably wouldn't tell you, because I don't care much for clothing unless it's on my bedroom floor, and I can't stand people that describe clothing for paragraph upon paragraph. Guess what, middle American waste pile? It really doesn't matter that fucking much!
She was really pretty. I stood up realizing that I was fucking dressed up too. (To see what I was wearing, read above paragraph. Thank you, -Managemnet.) She came over to me and gave me her hand and we left.
We went to a party, I think. It was full of all the people I ever killed. It was in a pretty house but Devi and I were the only people dressed up. We danced. We danced together and we danced with other people, and when the slow songs came on, we danced together some more. This went on for a pretty long time, until my favorite song, Got You Where I Want You came on. (See also, The Flys). We danced together. And we were really fucking happy. Which was new to me. It was a weird feeling that I'd pay any money for to have a drug to induce such a thing again. And I took her chin in my hand and I made her look at me, and I went to kiss her. And just as I did such a stupid thing
She stabbed me in the stomach.
I fell back from her, but she kept her arm locked tightly around my thin frame. She did it again, and it hurt. I find myself kind of numb to such violence, but it struck me like The Shining strikes a five year old: full of fear and pain. Very, very clearly. She stabbed me twice more and threw the knife aside. She unzipped my fly and kissed me on the neck, and whispered very purposefully in my ear, "Johnny C, I do believe you'll be above the stars soon."
I came very quickly, humiliatingly enough (feel privilaged I told you that) and I woke up in a cold sweat on my bed, trembling like that cheerleading bimbo. For a moment, I'd felt like I had something to live for, and it'd been taken away. I felt like a hundred people who I took away everything from. And laying on that bed shaking like a scared rabbit, I finally understood what it was like to loose something. I lost my last shred of humanity because
I still didn't care.