"Jane, I'm not cosplaying!" Roxy insisted, waving her cherry-lime martini around to prove her point. "I've been to tons of cons and cosplayed already!"
"But...but.." Jane pouted, "Roxy! Your hair is perfect for Rin," She reached up and patted the blonde coiffed bubble, "Ok, with a lil' bit less hairspray actually."
"I'm not cosplaying a vacolaidmsaggle whatever she is! Besides, my hair is perfect anyway." She tried her best to flip it, but with the hairspray, it wasn't going anywhere. It was a miracle she hadn't asphyxiated in the last four years on that bitter, apple scented gas.
"Vocaloid," Jane corrected. "Alright...At least then your real face will be what He first sees!" She clapped excitedly, and Roxy rolled her eyes.
"Guess you better get me a cosplay with a mask then!" She said jokingly, "Cuz I don't think he could handle awaaawwwllllll of this!" She waved her hands in front of her face, making Jane burst into a giggling fit.
"I think He could," Jane replied teasingly. They'd both gotten in the habit of calling 'Roxy's soulmate! :B" (haha, very funny Jane) Him. Or He. He was so important that He was capitalized AND italicized. That shit was reserved for special occasions.
But Roxy wasn't getting her hopes up. Nuh-uh, no way! Helllllllllllllllllllllllll naw! No diggity dice! She wasn't going to get her romantic imagination rolling!
...Again.
She'd gotten her dreams crushed too many times by internet guys, youtubers, age differences, and sexuality. Not to mention stupidity. Hers and theirs. In short, Roxy didn't have much faith in the male species anymore, at least the ones that lived around her. People called her selfish and a slut, said that she wanted what she couldn't have. Excuse her for having standards. Or liking a juicy makeout once in a while.
Her conflicted emotions that she got as a teenage girl made relationships hard enough, but add the rush of endorphins from the (dear, sweet) alcohol, and maybe, just a pinch of hormones, and voilà, you had yourself a hot mess, le Roxy.
The idea that science controlled how she though and spoke, the idea that a drink could make her change her mind! She hated that. Screw the scientific qualities of water and aspirin when you had a headache; she liked to believe that they were magical, or maybe her sheer willpower made it go away.
But she took the aspirin anyways.
She wanted to believe that she made her own opinions and thoughts and choices because she wanted to, not because she needed sleep or calories and once in a while, a chocolate bar. Ever suggest to Roxy that her sudden changes in opinion were caused by a mood swing, and you'd suddenly find yourself unable to suggest anything at all.
But very few people thought like that, like her. Even Jane didn't wonder about the beauty of the stars and cosmos, but of the knowledge that could get you there. Roxy thought space would look a little like a sunset, with more purple and less red. And a hell of a lot more sparkles. A little part of her didn't even want to know what if really looked like, cold and unfeeling, because she knew she was wrong. Who wanted their dreams to be disintegrated, as hers often were?
Yet another reason she drank.
To hope.
Although, the main part of this statement that evolved into three something paragraphs is: Roxy was having an incredibly hard time finding a reason to believe that He would be the right person for her.
"Roxy?" Jane asked curiously, waving her hand in front of the blonde. "Were you spacin' out again? I'm tellin' you, drinking is going to mess up your thinking capacity."
"Oops." She shrugged. "What were you saying?"
Jane huffed indignantly, trying to pretend that she was mad. "Well, nevermind!" She never did have a good pokerface, and her famous bucktoothed grin broke through almost immediately. "You were havin' one of your big internal conversations, huh?" Jane said quietly, switching moods suddenly. Roxy was rather fond of her big internal conversations. So many of her thoughts (especially the drunken ones) were so poetic, even beautiful, but they never saw the light of being spoken. She knew someday she would write them down, but that day wouldn't be anytime soon.
And she'd forget them all by that time.
"Rox, you are doing it again!" Jane complained, wriggling around on her pink bed. "If you're going to space out, at least join me on this fluffy bed. Goodness, this thing is comfortable!"
They both giggled, and a quick look at Roxy's laptop sent them scrambling for youtube. Who needed men when you had Pewdiepie? Swoozie? CapnDezDez? SMOSH?! Cryoatic? Our2ndLife?!
Please don't forget Connor Franta. ;)
Roxy hugged Jane happily, tossing her a pair of magenta headphones. They would devour the internet for hours, and you know what? they were ok with that.
Who needed men when you had a friend like Jane?
Roxy. Roxy did.
I don't know where I fit in. I suppose I could fit in with a lot of people, if I really tried. But I don't know who I want to be with. Populars? Perfect people, obsessed with religion and sports? Normal people, quiet, loners? The bad ones, the ones who brought lighters to class and lit pen caps on fire and got high off sharpies?
Or the slightly odd ones? The ones I was with now? God, I love them, but hell they can be annoying!
Regardless of whatever I think, there's not really much I can do about it. Even if I try, the closest I get to them is just a minor friendship. And the bad ones scare me. Snapping a lighter near my face? No thank you. I have too much alcohol in me to be around an open flame.
I do this a lot. I suppose it's just a side effect of being drunk 24/7, having big mental discussions with myself. It's just something I do. I don't share my feelings or thoughts, except for maybe the rare occasion when I let something slip to Jane.
But not often.
The convention is in 6 days. Janey's even figured out the seconds, which makes me laugh. I won't let her tell me anything about the boy who is, in her mind, my soulmate, but I can't deny that I'm excited to meet him. And, y'know, hopefully not scare him off.
Like I always do.
"Lalonde!" the teacher booms, and I swivel my head upwards to see my cranky teacher. He really needs to take that stick out of his ass before he even comes into a 10 foot radius of me. Bitches get stitches Bro. Don't tempt me.
"Yessssssssssssssssssssss?" I say, drawing out the syllables to really make him blow a gasket. I'm sure he knows I'm always a little buzzed, so he always 'checks up on me'. Not cool, dude.
"What are you doing?"
"Uhm...thniking? Crap, thinking?"
He leans in closet o my face. "Miss Lalonde, are you intoxicated?!" He hisses.
"Uh, no?" Duhhh, I think secretly.
He sniffs my breath suspiciously. "Fine. As of now you don't have detention. Consider yourself lucky. And write your essay!"
I sigh, and gaze out the window again.
I'd rather think.
4 days. 96 hours. 5,7
60 minutes. 345,600 seconds. I've gotten into the habit of doing the math repetitively, compulsively, chanting the numbers like Janey does. We talk about cosplay almost all the time, if we're not talking about fanfiction or pocky.
There's not really much else to do in this town. It's tiny and boring. The biggest events we have here are football games.
Damn rednecks.
My mom isn't much better. Her weirdness has isolated me more than my own. She's into politics and is constantly handing out flyers and shit like that. I can't tell you how many meetings she's dragged me to, before I put up a fight and stopped going. I think she feels like she's losing me, so she bribes me a lot. Movies, mostly.
I've seen a lot of movies.
I wish it was the convention. I want something to do! Everyone in the damn town is boring as hell! Everything half way fun requires money, money that my mom won't pay. I get fired from every job I get for being drunk. In general, life sucks.
It's been a solid month since I've kissed anybody.
3 days. 72 hours. 4,320 minutes. 259,200 seconds.
I only have one more box of pocky left from my birthday. Blueberry flavor.
Hopefully, I'll restock my heartbreak band-aids (aka, said chocolate covered biscuit sticks) at the con.
2 days. 48 hours. 2,880 minutes. 172,800 seconds.
I have my cosplay all laid out for Saturday. A female version of Tamaki Suoh. My hair is perfect for Rin Kagamine, bitch please. I am the Host Queen, and I am fabulous.
God I love OHSHC.
Who doesn't? Manga art at the beginning's a bit odd, but still, Tama-chan is hella attractive.
Also voiced by Vic Mignogna. Hello! ;)
1 day. 24 hours. 1,440 minutes. 86,400 seconds.
Tomorrow. TOMORROW! If I were a robot, my circuits would be jammed beyond belief!
86,399.
86,398.
86,397.
Time needs to pass faster. I'm not exactly the most patient of people.
Jane won't read my poems anymore. I guess I should just give up on trying. No one wants to read them, except maybe the twenty-one people online. When I look at the numbers of the other stories, especially of Nepeta's or Meulin's, I get upset.
But no one wants me around if I'm not happy, so I suck it up.
Briefly rolling over on my bed, I snuggle my kitten. I'll always love my cats more than anything else. Little bundles of furry fluff and joy, that push their heads underneath my chin and soak up my tears.
Mutated ones line my wall. Sometimes I think I should take them down, but I can't. They're a part of me, something that runs too deeps to be changed. I'd miss them.
Purr, purr.
I can't believe it's tomorrow. In only one more day. I'll be back where I belong, with cosplay and plushies, voice actors and tabletop games, chess and panels, hotels and vending machines! Crazy-ass games of Truth or Dare and steamy Spin the Bottle.
Pictures. Faygo. Frozen yogurt. Potato bacon pizza from down the street.
Air that I can breathe as my true self.
And it's tomorrow.
God damn this took me a while to type. ;n; I'm sorry!
(I actually I am so excited to write this and I hope you like it and please review and as;dlgkj)