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two deals
So, I almost started writing tonight. Kind of. All that I wrote was this small thing, and if I had to pick, I'd say it's in the voice of Charlotte Langton, one of my very few characters in that story-thing I've got that has no plot.
Sometimes when my eyes water, it feels like they’re bleeding. Acid from the inside, leaking out and burning my pride with guilt. It shouldn’t have the power to do that, really. It’s only water.
Rain always feels sweet, like the sky is reaching down to soothe your pain. Tears aren’t really like that though, and I guess that it makes sense because they’re from the inside. Most things created by mankind, whether it stays inside or is tangibly erected on the outside of our selves, eventually will cause pain.
Some people think that nature is beautiful because God created it. I think it’s been a while since God actually created anything on Earth. I think that nature seems so beautiful because humans haven’t yet fouled it.
Also, there is this thing that I wrote at the end of May of this year and never really put in here. Not sure why. It is a random dabble. But I'm trying to poke around in my brain to get myself to start randomly writing again, so I'll post it here in case someone feels like giving feedback. I can think of lots to words to describe it, but I'm trying to not tear myself apart. Writing is a growth process and I need to just let it happen. That said, I can probably summarize it by saying that this is what people write when they are relationship-deprived. Anyway.
She rubbed her neck with the palms of both hands, looking down at her water-clogged sandals. Her skirt hung sadly with the extra weight of water and her cardigan clung to her body. Her hair was submissive for once, hugging her neck and dripping on to her shoulders.
He opened the door about two and a half minutes after she rang the doorbell. He looked at her solemnly through his glasses and opened the screen door. “It’s raining.”
“Yeah, no shit.” His face cracked into a grin and he tilted his head slightly as she stepped through the door.
“You look pretty....wet,” he said, folding his arms across his chest.
She sniffled, and he wondered whether the moisture on her face was entirely rainwater. “Why are you here? It’s kind of far, isn’t it—?”
“Don’t think you’re special, all right? I happened to be about a block from your house when it started pouring out. And like a dumbass, I forgot my umbrella.”
“Oh. Well, ah, let me go get you a towel or something.” She nodded, once. He left the room to find out if he had any clean ones.
He came back to find her sitting on the floor mat, hugging her knees with her face pressed into her skirt. It was a long skirt, and she looked beautiful when she was sad and rained on. “Hey...I found you a towel, and you can borrow a shirt or something if you want. But you can only have them if you tell me what you were doing around here and why you were crying.”
She brought her head up from her knees slowly. Her eyes were red and wet. A fresh sob let out of her throat and she attacked her eyes with the heels of her hands. “God...” she said in between heaves, “I’m sorry....I’m really sorry, I don’t cry. I never cry. ‘Specially not in front of people. I’m sorry, I’ll make it stop, right now. No more crying.” A ridiculous grin split her face. He frowned at her, and sat down next to her. He wrapped the towel all the way around her body, and sat next to her, leaving an arm around her shoulders. She sat still for a good minute and a half, and turned suddenly, pressing her face into his shoulder, crying softly. His hand left her shoulders for the back of her neck, pressing against her hair. His other hand rested on her cheek, smoothing it over and over again. His lips pressed against the top of her head.
She was clenching handfuls of his shirt, scrunching her eyes shut in a horribly unattractive fashion, trying to cease her crying by sheer force of will.
He felt terrible because he would do anything to stop her from feeling like this. She couldn’t even tell him what was wrong, for God’s sake. He lifted his lips from her hair and then lowered them again, kissing the top of her head. He cocked his head to the side, and continued kissing it. “Shhhh,” he breathed, barely even whispering. “Shhhh, shhhh, shhhh.” A hand moved to her side and he brought her closer, pressing her hard against him.
Her head moved and she was breathing into his neck. Her breath was hot and her face was cold. He pulled back suddenly, and held her face firmly with his hand. Slowly, he leaned forward and kissed both of her cheeks. Her eyes closed and she grew very, very still. He leaned in again, this time stopping just short of her lips. “Look at me.” She did, and he realized she was holding back tears. “I would never make you feel like this,” he whispered. She closed her eyes again, but warm tears were leaking out of the corners of her eyes just the same. He wiped them away with his thumbs, and then their mouths were pressing against each other. He could hear a small whimper and her breathing intensified. He suddenly felt very warm, and very aware of how her wet hair made her beautiful.
Sometimes when my eyes water, it feels like they’re bleeding. Acid from the inside, leaking out and burning my pride with guilt. It shouldn’t have the power to do that, really. It’s only water.
Rain always feels sweet, like the sky is reaching down to soothe your pain. Tears aren’t really like that though, and I guess that it makes sense because they’re from the inside. Most things created by mankind, whether it stays inside or is tangibly erected on the outside of our selves, eventually will cause pain.
Some people think that nature is beautiful because God created it. I think it’s been a while since God actually created anything on Earth. I think that nature seems so beautiful because humans haven’t yet fouled it.
Also, there is this thing that I wrote at the end of May of this year and never really put in here. Not sure why. It is a random dabble. But I'm trying to poke around in my brain to get myself to start randomly writing again, so I'll post it here in case someone feels like giving feedback. I can think of lots to words to describe it, but I'm trying to not tear myself apart. Writing is a growth process and I need to just let it happen. That said, I can probably summarize it by saying that this is what people write when they are relationship-deprived. Anyway.
She rubbed her neck with the palms of both hands, looking down at her water-clogged sandals. Her skirt hung sadly with the extra weight of water and her cardigan clung to her body. Her hair was submissive for once, hugging her neck and dripping on to her shoulders.
He opened the door about two and a half minutes after she rang the doorbell. He looked at her solemnly through his glasses and opened the screen door. “It’s raining.”
“Yeah, no shit.” His face cracked into a grin and he tilted his head slightly as she stepped through the door.
“You look pretty....wet,” he said, folding his arms across his chest.
She sniffled, and he wondered whether the moisture on her face was entirely rainwater. “Why are you here? It’s kind of far, isn’t it—?”
“Don’t think you’re special, all right? I happened to be about a block from your house when it started pouring out. And like a dumbass, I forgot my umbrella.”
“Oh. Well, ah, let me go get you a towel or something.” She nodded, once. He left the room to find out if he had any clean ones.
He came back to find her sitting on the floor mat, hugging her knees with her face pressed into her skirt. It was a long skirt, and she looked beautiful when she was sad and rained on. “Hey...I found you a towel, and you can borrow a shirt or something if you want. But you can only have them if you tell me what you were doing around here and why you were crying.”
She brought her head up from her knees slowly. Her eyes were red and wet. A fresh sob let out of her throat and she attacked her eyes with the heels of her hands. “God...” she said in between heaves, “I’m sorry....I’m really sorry, I don’t cry. I never cry. ‘Specially not in front of people. I’m sorry, I’ll make it stop, right now. No more crying.” A ridiculous grin split her face. He frowned at her, and sat down next to her. He wrapped the towel all the way around her body, and sat next to her, leaving an arm around her shoulders. She sat still for a good minute and a half, and turned suddenly, pressing her face into his shoulder, crying softly. His hand left her shoulders for the back of her neck, pressing against her hair. His other hand rested on her cheek, smoothing it over and over again. His lips pressed against the top of her head.
She was clenching handfuls of his shirt, scrunching her eyes shut in a horribly unattractive fashion, trying to cease her crying by sheer force of will.
He felt terrible because he would do anything to stop her from feeling like this. She couldn’t even tell him what was wrong, for God’s sake. He lifted his lips from her hair and then lowered them again, kissing the top of her head. He cocked his head to the side, and continued kissing it. “Shhhh,” he breathed, barely even whispering. “Shhhh, shhhh, shhhh.” A hand moved to her side and he brought her closer, pressing her hard against him.
Her head moved and she was breathing into his neck. Her breath was hot and her face was cold. He pulled back suddenly, and held her face firmly with his hand. Slowly, he leaned forward and kissed both of her cheeks. Her eyes closed and she grew very, very still. He leaned in again, this time stopping just short of her lips. “Look at me.” She did, and he realized she was holding back tears. “I would never make you feel like this,” he whispered. She closed her eyes again, but warm tears were leaking out of the corners of her eyes just the same. He wiped them away with his thumbs, and then their mouths were pressing against each other. He could hear a small whimper and her breathing intensified. He suddenly felt very warm, and very aware of how her wet hair made her beautiful.