it's 3:04 am, on September 04, 2001 - not-porn for both Chris and Bobby.

~

Okay, so I'm still trying to figure out why I'm into the whole boyband thing, but I think I'm just about over it. I mean, it might take a few more weeks, but by then I'll have passed it for something else. There are a few I keep rereading right now, just like I reread Pomegranetes and Pictures once and a while, but hey, we all have those.

I am still contemplating deeply watching myself bounce in the mirror, though. I'm also, I'm, I dunno. I miss Riv. I haven't talked to her in weeks and weeks, and we know that normally me losing track of someone for weeks and weeks means that I kinda, can't remember, to call them up again.

School starts tomorrow for me and I'm in a down-swing, sitting at the computer for far too long and pouting to myself. I stopped by Al's website for a while but I couldn't bring myself to finish reading anything. My mind fluttered around like restless birds. I was constantly reminded that prison makes you hate the best of yourself. Am thinking about putting the anthem of futility on and crying myself to sleep just for a change of pace, but I'm not really sad. More, angry, and, angry. Because, I am capable of carrying on a fully formed relationship, the full range of emotions for someone, without them having any say in the matter whatsoever and that to me seems the epitomy of selfish. But I can't seem to explain this in text or narrative, even though I try.

It's quarter to three here. I should go soon, and I will. I just wanted to get rid of the 'I'm pretty angry' post, even though this is also a 'I'm kind of angry' post, but it's more 'I'm kind of disconnected and it's becoming anger because I need to feel something'.

Whatever. That's not interesting.

What is interesting: I bought boots, lace-up leather, black, for fifty bucks on the weekend. Well, rae paid for them because I am a whore and have no money and won't for a little while yet. They were cheap. I suddenly want to wear my studded collar around a lot and some plaid skirts and pretend I know about British punk.

With them on, as well as my collar and fake!glasses, Zarya and I looked exactly alike sitting next to each other. We got drunk and laid on the floor looking up at the ceiling together, and found out that we have a lot in common, like we both got into fic through Nikita, and stuff, and I can't remember more of it but I know I kept saying, 'me too!' It was funny. It's another crush.

I just have no attention span. I want to say, if things were different between me and someone I was really really into, I would be different, but I'm not sure it would be. I think that might be why I don't get jealous. I don't form attachment to anyone; I could share anyone I'm with fairly easily because I want to be afforded the same courtesy.

Jesus, I'm a wet blanket tonight. Let's see if I can liven it up with some porn or something.

~*~

"Chris, I don't want--"

"See, that's the problem, baby. I know you're lyin'. Mommy and Daddy might not, and O'Reily might not, and that guy that you're rooming might not, but I know."

Beecher's eyebrows are tensed up. Keller is leaning over him, and the room would smell sour except Toby just cleaned it an hour ago. Toby used to look down at his shoes a lot when him and Chris talked, but now he looks steadily over Chris's shoulder, angry and a bit indifferent and totally unreadable. "You know, I might kiss him in the laundry room first."

Chris flinches, and Toby, yeah, he notices. "You still want me."

"Yeah." And Toby remembers -- just -- enough of -- something -- to admit that much. "You're jealous. I didn't know you cared."

There's truth in the most akward of places. "Yeah. Maybe."

Of course he does. You don't just stop.

~*~

Okay, fuck, that wasn't porn. See, I've seen two episodes of the new season, now -- and by new I mean the season where Toby and Chris admit to singing in the choir together. I've seen that. I haven't really, um, I mean, I haven't seen why Keller leaves the prison, and I don't want to think about it. I don't want to think about them ending just because they can't stand each other enough anymore. Cause my chest gets tight.

Fuck, I was going to cheer this up with some porn, wasn't I?

~*~

"That's good, Bobby, yeah. Yeah." Remy thinks to himself, *this is new*, and sucks a breath in. Bobby might have replied except that his mouth is full and his head is studiously empty. Remy says, 'yeah' once more and sighs, a little sigh, and his fingers flutter.

Bobby pulls his head up carefully. Remy watches him carefully for any signs of wear and tear, but Bobby just wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Remy thinks it makes a scratchy noise in the dark, but it might have just been air hissing beween someone's teeth.

This isn't really new, Remy knows, but it's new to not be positive that Remy can be confident, and that's new enough to want to consider, when he can catch his breath. By the time he's breathing easily, Bobby has already stood up and pulled on his clothes, stroking a sticky hand across Remy's cheek and mumbling, "I have to go, or they'll find, yeah. Um, thanks."

In the dark it really seems like Bobby stands taller, but Remy knows that was just in his dream. The space seems very small and very cramped now that there's only one of him, but he stays for a while, thinking, just to press the issue with himself. He wants to force the cramped quarters into a place where they'll make sense.

Soon enough, he can't breath in the closet and comes out, slouches down the hall, and goes to bed. The phone doesn't ring. The covers aren't too cold or warm. The window is open and he doesn't notice.

~*~

Again, not porn. Whatever. I don't think I'm feeling particularly well or sexy right now. Maybe once I get started with school I'll stop staying up late and thinking bad thoughts. I really am a morning person.

Have a great morning, y'all, wherever you are. I think about you all even if I don't say a word. Apparently I can carry out a tribe and a vibe without the help of anyone else. I don't know whether this makes me more connected or more disconnected, but it certainly isn't selfless.

~

The current mood of lisewilliams@geocities.com at www.imood.com

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bruise - June 29, 2015

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