You can wake up with a migraine and still the world is a brilliant place.
My bestie is fucking brilliant. Because she’s there. Even if we’re not ‘connected’ all the time, she’s there. And I know she won’t just vanish like cherry blossoms. She’s a rose that can withstand any storm.
I don’t think I can say how precious that is.
No. No. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to decide I was flavour of the fucking month once again. You were meant to stay away. Stay away from me, and I was never supposed to think about you ever again, ever again. Bono’s singing don’t turn around, don’t turn around, don’t turn around…your gypsy heart, and don’t you know, he’s singing to me? Don’t turn around, don’t turn around, and don’t look back — but I do. I was never supposed to, but I DID!
Come on now, love — don’t you look back!
I looked back, I looked back, and again, you’ve torn me into shreds.
You…you goddamn bitch, you heartless…you have no idea, and you don’t care, do you. And here’s me, stupid, gullible little Kirryn-Arwen, foolish, naive, hopeful little me — hope isn’t the thing with feathers, don’t you know, hope is the nasty little bastard that chokes you with your own dreams. Hoping…what I’m hoping would have several people kill me. And you know what? I can’t fucking STOP IT. The little voice in the back of my head, my id, whatever, she’s screaming at me. She knows. Yes, she knows.
Hope has no place in this. None whatsoever. You’re not interested in me as a person. If you were to move here, you wouldn’t give two flying fucks about me. You never did. YOU NEVER DID. You lied to me, and you’ll keep lying to me. You don’t care, you don’t read anything I write, if I was hit by a bus tomorrow you wouldn’t even notice I wasn’t here. You just want another Australian on your flist, now that your obsession has flared up again.
I’m not Australian, I’m Scottish. And I’m not going to live here for much longer, I’m going to Ireland. I’m going to Ireland and I’m going to disappear, forget my own name, to become someone else completely.
You have no idea. You have…you’re ruining me. You ruined me three years ago, you ruined me last November (oh yes, I found out what you did, you and that bitch), you’re destroying me now. And you shouldn’t even…haven’t you read anything? Haven’t you looked around? This shows how much you care: 0%.
And me? Stupid, stupid, stupid little Subaru of this equation?
“I really loved you…Se…i…shi…rou…sa…n…”
Remember what I told you last year? Dreams can’t be. I know this. “Arwen didn’t think that.” You said that to me, didn’t you? You probably don’t remember or care. Yes, you did. But I’m not Arwen anymore. I’m not an Evenstar. You took away every shred of light that was in me and you don’t care. You’re not even going to read this. I don’t even know why I’m typing it all out. Because the tears won’t stop and Bono’s voice is tearing what’s left of my heart out and because I can’t stand it. So I can give my nasty little stalker bitches who hate my guts something to giggle at.
I don’t care. I don’t care.
I can’t stop it. Can’t stop my tears, can’t stop my heart. Can’t stop this goddamn hope, despite knowing how futile and poisonous it is. Can’t stop knowing that even if for one moment, a miracle occured, things looked up, they’d come down. Oh, they would. Crashing spectacularly. I know this. I don’t know it. I can’t stop.
Don’t turn around, your gypsy heart–
You should see what you’ve done, the scars you’ve carved on me. Don’tlovedon’tpushdon’tspeakoutofturndon’trelydon’tfeel. CANNOT LOVE. Cannot fall. Will not fall. Can’t break a heart that’s already broken. Can’t take a heart that was given away long ago.
–your gypsy heart–
My gypsy heart.
And you don’t care. You don’t care one iota; you’ll never even read this. While I sit here, bawling like an idiot, aching, this goddamn song on repeat. Don’t turn around? Too late. This post is going to get me in so much trouble, and I just…I don’t care. I don’t care anymore. This will pass, and so will time, and I’ll move to Ireland and forget. Or convince myself that I’ve forgotten.
I’m pathetic, because despite everything you’ve ever done, every lie you told me, I can’t…I can’t stop…mi ankoraux ami vi.
Seishirou-san…I lost the bet, didn’t I.
I am…so tired. I’ve been crying since 5pm and it’s 1:30am now. Oneechan and Temiko are probably mad at me, and I deserve it. I am…such a crappy friend. I keep being snappish and horrible and selfish and gods…I just wish I’d stop. But I can’t, I do it unconsciously…that doesn’t justify it, though.
Thoughts keep rolling around in my head and just won’t stop. I tried to write, and failed. I tried to design something, also failed. My head aches and my ear aches and it feels like someone’s put a hole in my heart. The emptiness that was always there just…damn well exploded.
I just wished she’d had the fucking guts to tell me. “I don’t want to be with you, I want to be with Abby.” I wish I hadn’t found out like this. I wish…I just wish someone would love me. Love me the way “Celebrían” loved me, someone I could share all my secrets and my laughter with. I’ve been wishing that for so long.
I’m being all fucking emo, but I have no hope left. None. This has been the worst year of my life. I’m so tired.
I think I just might go to bed…meditate, pray my sorry heart out to Aset. If She can even hear me. My faith has taken the mother of all beatings. If there are any gods, any at all, why can’t They hear me? Why do They let things like this happen?
Love. Love. For love alone. Once I tasted the drug I couldn’t get enough.
Keep going. Keep fighting. Why? So I can get hurt again? But maybe I deserve it. Maybe this is karma paying me back for all the horrible things I’ve done, all the manipulative and sneaky and cowardly things I’ve ever done…
I hate myself. Hate myself…hate everything. But hate myself and the month of May, 2002, most of all. I wish I’d never met her. I wish to all the Netjer and the Valar and any other gods listening that I’d never fallen in love with her. I wish this pain would go away. It just gets sharper and sharper as the minutes pass.
Aset, Varda, please help me. Blondie, just hug me. I’m sorry I’m such a horrible little sister…and you, E…
…I’m so sorry for everything. It really was for nothing, in the end.
To quote myself: “Holy CRAP…that’s uncanny!”
Sumeragi Subaru-precious and I have exactly the same zodiac trine — Pisces sun, Capricorn moon, Gemini rising. Our entire star charts are practically goddamn identical.
I have no idea why this makes me so absolutely ecstatically happy, as the Pisces-Cap-Gem trine is not particularly the best indicator of contentment in life.
STILL. ^—-^
**agrees with Sammie-san wholeheartedly** Both of my domains are Tolkien, and both of them have Tolkien-related content. Undomiel.Nu hosts Vilya and Evenstar*NU, heck, that’s for the whole massive Arwen shrine (50% done!! And it’s so lovely…I’m quite surprised with myself. But! Only the best for mah girl Arwen ;.;!).
Not just with Tolkien domains, either. Any sort of themed-domain. Be it Sailormoon, Spiderman, or even bloody TEN Late Night News, people! Nyu nyu T.T;