Vero cried in my arms tonight.
She was sobbing incessantly yet she tried her best to keep it silent. She felt her heart grow weaker by the second. She whispered, she pleaded to know why she couldn't be loved the same way as others? Why did everyone hate her? Where was the Prince Charming that would look past all this, that would see the needy Vero? No one had come. She thought Rink was the one, but he only opened the wound even more. She hates men. She hates them all. Talk about unrequited love. She said she hated me too, she blamed me for Rink leaving her. The sorry little goth princess, with her small body trembling. I think of Rink and his current 'prey' if I do say so myself and I feel sorry for the girl. She loves Rink, it's obvious. He once said it himself that he's here to cause havoc. She's a dangerous cookie, in the sense of her disproportioned powers. She should have been reasonable, remained there sitting down until Rink would come back and yell again and lock her up and the endless cycle would repeat itself. And I would smile silently, the dry rose in my arms already thrusting me her thorns. She hates me, she hates me... oh sweet child, you are so innocent.
There are times in which I want to close my eyes and remain forever in a drugfilled sleep. I want to cry out and then slump in the hard cold concrete. I would count the stars and close my eyes. What is life expecting of me? it's poking me so much that it's hard to ignore.
She talks again, she'll burn her diary. She condemened herself in her diary she says.
It's been 8 months already. Seems like time hasn't even begun sliding.
I want his sweet honey...
She finally regains herself and leaves quickly, almost wanting to hide the tears that slide down her cheeks. I turn my face and look up the frightening sky. I don't hesitate, nor do I wonder. I feel empty again but I don't mind. I'm so jealous. I don't want his attention, nor his creativity to be directed to such a frivalous cause as herself. The little demon. I care not what she is. If we are all naming each other then I'm a killer.
I'm still looking up, that torticollis will be the death of me tonight but I don't care now. I'm taken by a sparkling red star, I know it's Altair. I read about it once, in one of those rare moments where a book managed to fall in my hands. How can people live still in the past? or think about the future? Who am I to judge?
I hate parties, social gatherings, large congregations of people, I would hate concerts too but since there is a distance between the audience and myself, I can live with it. Though of course, I approach, why wouldn't I? I'm not that cruel.
Rink's little dollies.
I sit down now, my legs are hurting, the wind is getting colder and colder... finally. I hum that silly love song that everyone loves. I laugh to myself. I'm no wise man, I know nothing of the universe and it's secrets, but I do know this.
Rink is gasoline.
Uuh, new definition! ahem.
My nose hurts, it's cold.
