I own nothing.
To Evelyn: O Sister, the lessons you give me every day.
Four: Violets
From Reno.
He's got that "tall-dark-n-handsome" thing goin' for him. Chocolate, as I call her--never out loud, you understand--just eats it up for breakfast. She loves it. They're all over each other when they don't think anyone's paying attention. It's almost funny. Almost.
He'll do something sicky-sweet. She'll respond in almost the exact same manner. It's disgusting. No, really. He's got this "pity me because I have no hand and I have to live forever" act that he puts up all the time. Makes me mad. He's a prick, that's what he is. Self-centered, snobbish, holier-than-thou...
And the twit--hey, nicest word I could think of--never sees the shivering form in the corner. Quiet, that one. Doesn't say a word. Just quivers, mutters. If you've got the stomach for it, you can see her tears. She's got scars, too, Mr. Sunshine. You can't see hers, though. Nothing so beautiful should be in so much pain.
That burns me up. Burns me to the core. I just wanna run in there and tear those two off each other so she can sleep peacefully. I wanna do something to put her at ease...
But I can't. Ruins the clown act, you see. I've been working on that for years, putting extra concious effort so I could say nothing. And it would be funny. I was never one of those in grade school... kids just thought I was off my rocker.
Anyway, you've got the clown act and you do something sensitive, you're screwed. Simple.
I wouldn't sacrifice that for the world. Not something I've put that much effort into. Never.
But maybe that's not what it's about. Maybe it's not about the reputation you earn or the figures you pull. Maybe it's not about how many babes you can nail in one break. Maybe that's not it at all.
Maybe it's about something you would give up the world for.
Like her. Not Chocolate--she's sweet, but she's not my type... and she's taken by a vampire--whom I have no desire to mess with. For one, he'd put me full of holes faster than I could say thanks a lot. For another, she'd put me in a coma before I could get to second freakin' base.
No, her. She. The one in the corner. The cold, scared, shivering little thing, helplessly powerful in her youth.
The ninja. The one infatuated with Mr. Sunshine. She talks tough, but she needs someone. She's intelligent and sweet and sexy, but she can't go through her days by herself. Sure she's young, but she can't help that. She needs someone.
And there's no way in hell I'm letting her waste away in the corner.
She's too precious. Chocolate's great, but it melts. She's like...
Violets. Easily crushed, but with help they spring right back up again.
