Ok guys..::winces and looks around for any fruit in the hands of the
reviewers:: I know its been FOREVER since I updated..but after a long wait,
here is chapter 2..through fruit if you must, but I'd much prefer a review!
I've been a tad busy with school and so on and so forth, so things will all
be coming soon! Sorry its been forever! Ya'll are still the greatest!
Anna
I am in an envisioning mood right now, as I write one of my soon to be regular letters to you this evening. I tend to like these moods, but unlike most writers, who are inclined to induce these temperaments upon themselves, I happen to come upon them naturally.
I suppose this is a peculiar way to start my anecdote, but you always did call me inimitable. I am after all, a tad different in your standards. I don't kill anyone, to explain my meaning of that.
Nevertheless, you must be wondering, after all this small talk, what I am envisioning. Ah, I knew you would. It is no easy task to travel the deep oblivion that is my mind, but I will try for your sake. I know you are itching in your seat as you read this. I know that you read the one before this one, and I am perfectly sure that it still gives you cold chills as you sleep at night. You wake up from nightmares, unearthly and quaking as they are. You stare about you, tense, muscles posed in the position of flight. I know what you're looking for. I know what haunts your dreams.
My eyes travel through you, don't they? You see them as you sleep, you see them on your way to work, and you even recognize them in other people. Frighteningly bright, aren't they?
They see your guilt.
They see your worthlessness.
And all the while, you think.she can't be here.she would never come.
For the most part this is true. For the most part.
That is one of my reflections as I sit and write. Vivid, is a word, I am sure comes to your head.
True.that is for you to decide.
Don't hope in things that will destroy you. Don't hope at all. You never should have started in the first place. I know and you know that burying the truth will never help, though it was never hurting. You had no conscious anyway. But then again, would you have ever developed one in the first place if you had not met me.
Ah, I have you pondering now, don't I?
You want to blame me, don't you?
This is nothing that I can argue with. Blame as you will. Point your finger at random points to make yourself feel better if you so choose. Just know that, it was not I who corrupted you. You did that long before I could even try. Your own evil juices seeped deep into your flesh, long before I could even try to correct it. Then again, why would I have wanted to in the first place? You wouldn't have listened anyway.
I am certainly no saint, but at least I knew my limits and stood with them. You were always standing on that clear, vivid white line. Then the day came where you put your toe off it.that's when the trouble started.
But I'm getting ahead of myself, as I always do. Muttering and mumbling unclear and indistinct memories. I'll attempt to start from the beginning, seeing as that would be the clearest picture of all.
Should I start with the first day we met? Oh, you remember that fateful day, I am sure. How could you forget? Both of our lives changed, for better or for worse.
However, maybe that's too soon. Perhaps I should begin my tale with before we knew each other, long before I ever would have considered knowing you that is. Yes, that sounds wonderfully sadistic doesn't it? To start from the beginning when just glimpses and simple looks were all that described the connection between us. It was small, but oh, how it grew! It flowered and prospered to its peak. And there we were then, dangerous, undecided girls with too much power for our own good.
Why we were brought together, I will never know. Why I stayed with you for so long, I will never be able to explain. Just discern that it was not weakness that caused this to happen. It was not caring either. It was something you are not ready to hear about, and until that time comes, I will not speak of it.
But here is my story, our story, in a world where sorrow and woe is an inevitable event. We were kids in this so called world and our beginning was the beginning of its end. You know you were too advanced for your own good.
But then again.so was I.
Let's see, how was the weather that day? Do you remember what day I'm talking about? That day where the breeze whipped and whirled our hair to imperfection, where fall was ending and winter was beginning. The trees were swaying and dying before us. I know you remember what day I'm talking about now and it's a wonder you do. It must have been nearly fifteen years since then.
Anna
I am in an envisioning mood right now, as I write one of my soon to be regular letters to you this evening. I tend to like these moods, but unlike most writers, who are inclined to induce these temperaments upon themselves, I happen to come upon them naturally.
I suppose this is a peculiar way to start my anecdote, but you always did call me inimitable. I am after all, a tad different in your standards. I don't kill anyone, to explain my meaning of that.
Nevertheless, you must be wondering, after all this small talk, what I am envisioning. Ah, I knew you would. It is no easy task to travel the deep oblivion that is my mind, but I will try for your sake. I know you are itching in your seat as you read this. I know that you read the one before this one, and I am perfectly sure that it still gives you cold chills as you sleep at night. You wake up from nightmares, unearthly and quaking as they are. You stare about you, tense, muscles posed in the position of flight. I know what you're looking for. I know what haunts your dreams.
My eyes travel through you, don't they? You see them as you sleep, you see them on your way to work, and you even recognize them in other people. Frighteningly bright, aren't they?
They see your guilt.
They see your worthlessness.
And all the while, you think.she can't be here.she would never come.
For the most part this is true. For the most part.
That is one of my reflections as I sit and write. Vivid, is a word, I am sure comes to your head.
True.that is for you to decide.
Don't hope in things that will destroy you. Don't hope at all. You never should have started in the first place. I know and you know that burying the truth will never help, though it was never hurting. You had no conscious anyway. But then again, would you have ever developed one in the first place if you had not met me.
Ah, I have you pondering now, don't I?
You want to blame me, don't you?
This is nothing that I can argue with. Blame as you will. Point your finger at random points to make yourself feel better if you so choose. Just know that, it was not I who corrupted you. You did that long before I could even try. Your own evil juices seeped deep into your flesh, long before I could even try to correct it. Then again, why would I have wanted to in the first place? You wouldn't have listened anyway.
I am certainly no saint, but at least I knew my limits and stood with them. You were always standing on that clear, vivid white line. Then the day came where you put your toe off it.that's when the trouble started.
But I'm getting ahead of myself, as I always do. Muttering and mumbling unclear and indistinct memories. I'll attempt to start from the beginning, seeing as that would be the clearest picture of all.
Should I start with the first day we met? Oh, you remember that fateful day, I am sure. How could you forget? Both of our lives changed, for better or for worse.
However, maybe that's too soon. Perhaps I should begin my tale with before we knew each other, long before I ever would have considered knowing you that is. Yes, that sounds wonderfully sadistic doesn't it? To start from the beginning when just glimpses and simple looks were all that described the connection between us. It was small, but oh, how it grew! It flowered and prospered to its peak. And there we were then, dangerous, undecided girls with too much power for our own good.
Why we were brought together, I will never know. Why I stayed with you for so long, I will never be able to explain. Just discern that it was not weakness that caused this to happen. It was not caring either. It was something you are not ready to hear about, and until that time comes, I will not speak of it.
But here is my story, our story, in a world where sorrow and woe is an inevitable event. We were kids in this so called world and our beginning was the beginning of its end. You know you were too advanced for your own good.
But then again.so was I.
Let's see, how was the weather that day? Do you remember what day I'm talking about? That day where the breeze whipped and whirled our hair to imperfection, where fall was ending and winter was beginning. The trees were swaying and dying before us. I know you remember what day I'm talking about now and it's a wonder you do. It must have been nearly fifteen years since then.