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23 September 2008 @ 02:32 am
She likes to torture herself, sometimes, by bringing the past back to life, and she doesn't know why.

Tonight's topic hurts.

She can't remember what he looks like, anymore. Her hands can picture skin and bones (and oh so much bone) and hair, but the pieces jumble together and just don't fit right. He had eyes, and a nose, and a mouth, and a want that was bigger than she could manage; now he seems only human, which is funny, because he wasn't then, of course.

She can't remember what he feels like, anymore. She can't feel his face under her fingertips, can't replicate the jut of his hips under her own, and when she touches someone else now, she knows that it feels different, but she can't place how, and it drives her mad.

It's a hard line to walk, because at the end of the day, she only misses him when she tries to, and she's pretty sure that's called healing.
 
 
 
11 December 2007 @ 04:36 pm
Her face hurts from smiling so fake; her heart hurts from caring too hard.

She is a terrific failure.

It has to stop, and she's not sure if she means the failing, the smiling, or her heart.
 
 
Feeling:: coldcold
 
 
In the day-to-day thrills of here, and now, and the strained 'Hello? How are you? I miss you?' on an answering machine, her fingers find their way to the bridge of her nose; a pinch to stave off A Headache more and more often, and it's incomplete thoughts that she writes down on the strips of paper she then folds into tiny paper stars. More and more frequently she has to stop, and take a pill or three, and then remember to breathe, because the pain ripples through her again and again and a triptan just doesn't give forgiveness like it used to. She writes about it on the backs of napkins and wrappers and other trash that could symbolize her life, if she were trying to be cliche; but no one cares, not even her, and then she throws them away and maybe someday someone will find those writings, and be surprised that so much feeling can mean so little in the world. She listens to music, coming from his fingers and coming from his lips and coming from his heart, and she knows that this is wrong wrong wrong but he doesn't care, or at least acts like he doesn't care, and so then she doesn't care, or at least acts like she doesn't cry at night wishing she drank less and he smoked less and they fucked less; none of it is an anagram for placebo like she Needs It To Be. Her eyes search for him when the lights are on, and his hands search for her when the lights are off, and this is just where they were when they decided that it couldn't go on, start the story over, recast the roles and watch the puppets dance in a detached, third-person way, only not. The headaches make this Not Alright and the words make this Heartbreaking and the promises that there are no such things as promises make this What She Needs. Perhaps soon she'll feel in her head what she's been missing all along.
 
 
23 August 2007 @ 01:01 pm
'in the whisper of summer
her tongue swims with bitter black language
the girl thinks of hot rain & cool shadows
she is delirious & weak & in love'
 
 
Feeling:: creative
 
 
 
21 April 2007 @ 03:02 pm
Fiction I'm writing. Sexual themes. My own brand of crazy.

The Good Times Are Killing MeCollapse )
 
 
Title: And You Will Have the Death of a Saint
Rating: R
Summary: In each and every moment there is a chance for regret, a chance for repentance, unless the moment never existed and there is really nothing but time.
Fandom: House
Pairing: House/Wilson, Cameron/Chase, Cameron/House
Spoilers: Up through ‘Insensitive’.
Warning: Deathfic, mature situations, both slash and het.
Word Count: 3,500
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by David Shore and FOX, among others. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author’s Notes: Ten drabbles of 100 words each, all connected. Interspersed are five vignettes of 500 words each, all connected. And both the drabbles and the vignettes will all be connected in some way. Confused yet?

If you read, please be courteous and leave a constructive review telling me what you liked and what could be improved upon. Thank you for reading!

ETA: Edited some typos, took out the numbers.


And You Will Have the Death of a SaintCollapse )
 
 
12 February 2007 @ 05:37 pm
Title: A Lie is a Lie, Hallelujah
Rating: PG-13
Summary: ‘It was never supposed to factor into the equation that their actions would have consequences.’ Everything affects something or someone we love.
Fandom: House
Pairing: House/Wilson, Wilson/OFC
Spoilers: Up through ‘Needle in a Haystack’.
Word Count: 1,983
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by David Shore and FOX, among others. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author’s Notes: Taking a few fandom clichés and hopefully making them whole again. Still can’t write House’s voice properly, but can I get points for trying? Also, at one in the morning, sometimes you really want to believe that scotch is spelled with a ‘k’.

If you read, please be courteous and leave a constructive review telling me what you liked and what could be improved upon. Thank you for reading!

A Lie is a Lie, HallelujahCollapse )
 
 
Title: you’d be disappointed (three things james wilson never said, and two he did)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: In order to change things, you have to know what to change.
Fandom: House
Pairing: House/Wilson
Spoilers: Up through ‘Needle in a Haystack’.
Word Count: 1,212
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by David Shore and FOX, among others. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

you’d be disappointed (three things james wilson never said, and two he did)Collapse )
 
 
Title: Whenever You Breathe Out, I Breathe In
Rating: PG-13
Summary: ‘Things would not be normal. Things had never been normal.’ The difference is reactions.
Fandom: House
Pairing: House/Wilson
Spoilers: Up through ‘Words and Deeds’.
Word Count: 1,252
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by David Shore and FOX, among others. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

The title of the story and the lyrics come from the Modest Mouse song of the same name, off of the album ‘Building Nothing Out of Something’.

Whenever You Breathe Out, I Breathe InCollapse )