Wreckage

(Inspired by Superchick's song, "Courage")

They both had their vices.
She starved herself to perfection. He bled to attain peace.
They both had each other.
He didn't tell her to eat. She didn't tell him to put the blade away.
They sat in silence, away from accusers. No judgment, no expectations.

They suffered. They weren't good enough. But in their short time together, they didn't need to be.

At times, they talked. They talked about the things they couldn't tell the others. They knew they wouldn't scare them, like so many others had been scared. They listened, but didn't offer opinion or rebuke. They accepted.

It was decided that they influenced each other negatively. It was decided that they would no longer spend time together. It was decided that even a goodbye was inappropriate.

They added their separation to their long list of sorrows. They no longer had a friend who could listen to their tales of suffering. And so they suffered more.

Many years, hospitalizations, and rehab visits later, they had a chance meeting. They sat. They talked. They listened.

For hours, they spoke of what had happened. It grew late.

They rode the city bus home, still in each other's company. They didn't want to go back. Back to the many nameless faces that ran their lives.

They looked in each other's eyes, about to bid farewell.


They never spoke the words.
They were found in the wreckage by the paramedics, dead on impact.

Please Turn To Page Zero

There's no school today. That's good, because I would have been a zombie. I was at the Relient K concert and didn't get back till one am. The ferry is so amazing when it's stormy out. Especially when you listen to Demon Hunter.
Emily and I didn't even watch the concert. We couldn't get to the floor, so we sat outside the arena on these random stairs and did swing dance steps in front of a security camera. We could still hear the music well; we had to shout to be heard.
I think I have some lyrics to that song I'm working on in Recording Arts. The title of this post is going to be the name of the song. I was feeling very artistic yesterday and wrote a bunch of stuff.
I'm done trying to think of things to say, and I'm hungry.