Well this one's sucking mightily...
Started for the CLM imperfect sex challenge, apparently it 'don't really wanna go there.'
Do you know what torture truly is?
Have you ever watched him, or her, smiling at another? Touching their arm, in that oh-so-gentle manner that seems incongruent with his exaggerated nature. Laughing quietly with them over some private joke. Knowing the joke could very well be you.
When he touches her face, I want to scream. I want to curse and cry, shout and whine, to rip the resucitator out of my ID Pak and take a laser to my heart, but not before taking some measure of revenge out of her sickeningly tanned hide. I want her to hurt for what she's doing. Hair by bleached hair, skin an inch at a time, I want her to know the physical equivalent of what she's done to us. To me.
He would hate me. Not that it would really matter; after that I would die, at least somewhat satisfied. He wouldn't understand why. I know he doesn't see the way she looks at me. When he's not around...The triumph in her eyes brings a stinging bile to my throat. She's stolen everything, and the unforgivable part is she knows, and loves, and relishes this. He hasn't told her our past, but she senses what he means to me, more than he does. He always was unaware of the people around him. We were the actors in the play of his strange, melodramatic little life.
She doesn't love him. Doesn't love him, doesn't deserve him. Doesn't deserve his generosity, kindness, and most of all his indecipherable genius. This is all a game to her, he's just something to laugh about with the clones she calls friends, someone to work for her and spend for her and get her invited to all the best parties, which he never attends, just like his father. It's so obvious to everyone but him.
I try to tell him. So many times I've tried. Having the object of my discussion hovering over his shoulder isn't conducive to in-depth conversation on the topic...
Don't know if I'll finish this or not O_o.
- Music:What's Stopping You-Semisonic