"I suppose I could explain it to you-" he mumbled grudgingly.
I honestly thought I was going to explode- I couldn't take another second of his begrudging superiority. Fucking prophets, no wonder why everyone beats his ugly mug to a pulp day to day. "but then the riddle would be rendered lifeless, y'know?"
Why can't someone render you lifeless?
Obviously, I was little bit bitter... the cunt had a reason to be my sovereign, as Atrocious said- I was just his bodyguard. "Just picture it for a moment, Eros... the question is flying free, between you and me, back and forth and around, and you are selfish enough to trap it into that tiny cage we humans call the brain. You, of all people are asking me to clip this little ditty's wings!" his expression betrayed the riot building up behind his eyes. "Your cruelty surpasses even my own comprehension. Just think for a moment, utilize all of your precious schemas, my darling. DO YOU really want all the magic in the world to dwindle and die, to render it all explicable and scientific?"
By this point, his words had become nonsense to my ears. I was tired and angry for being subjected to his rants, all meaningless banter.
"Yes, I do," I didn't care. At this point, I simply wanted to spite the bitch- make him writhe and moan... but I never held such power over him. On the contrary, he had me wrapped around his finger, a victim to his every wish.
"You selfish bastard, just go to sleep."
"So I can take you somewhere far away?"
"Oh baby, will you take me to the sky tonight?" he purred.
I blinked... not this again. Oh lord. "I wanna traverse the 'midnight meat train' for an hour or two before it pulls out of the station."
"Get the fuck out, now!"

He did leave eventually. I'd rather not talk about what I had to do though. I'm going to bed now if anything, just to see where I'll end up in the morning.

It had been a long, long time that I had this idea festering in my mind. I was only fifteen but it had taken about two and a half years to muster up the courage. It’s only now that I realize that hate, determination, and rebellion age in dog years. I have never been good at math but I believe that by then my hatred, determination, and rebellion was practically an adult. Maybe not quite at a drinking age but old enough to realize what is what, what is unjust, what is crude, and where both you and I stand in this world.
In any case, on this certain lazy June day, I rode my bike with determination down the road. No one bothered to pay attention to a stupid nondescript kid. Well at the moment I was completely unnoticeable, however by this afternoon I knew that when I returned to this street the reaction would hopefully be outrage, distress, and disappointment.

-----------------------

This has decided that my story will be in 'I' format.
Now I need to figure if this is Ashtray or Eraser speaking... they intertwine so often.

I'M HAVING AN EMOTIONAL MELTDOWN RIGHT NOW.

Not particularly conveniently placed in the time period.

just keep breathing...

Dear Ms. L,

I’m not sure what to do. If I’m asked to describe myself… strange and bizarre words are my initial thoughts. To be conventional and not scare the questioner off… I state ‘artist’. I like to carry that title and apply it to all of the aspects of my life. Breaking grammar, challenging painting techniques, and burdening music with sharps and flats are a few techniques I carry in my arsenal. When I write, I listen to the sounds of the words, the rhythm and syncopation of each sentence. This will probably screw me over in college if I don’t manage to sneak myself into a liberal arts school, right? But that’s beside the point. How do I write bluntly, harshly, nubbed, and precise? I use passive voice freely, it makes language flow. My wordiness is the color on the canvas. Be patient with me, until I learn a better way to write my words in a way that sounds carved on cement… or maybe you could teach me how to shed my artistry. Maybe lend me an alarm clock to wake me from my dreamy language? I’d be much grateful. I want an A in your class…


Sincerely,
Vanessa G.

I'unno. LOL
I get this strange feeling that I know everything sometimes... well everything that matters that is. No, not genius style like what the capital of 'x' state is and whatnot... but something different.

It's not like I've heard it before, I just know; and I feel like a douchebag when I laugh or smile at people who are trying to tell me something philosophical that they've spent a lifetime turning over in their minds. It's really insensitive of me to find their struggle funny and vain, but I honestly do.

"Yes, I know." I'm sorry if that's all I have to say.
I'm sorry if I choose to laugh at your struggle that day. It's just that, the world is getting hung up on things that don't matter, and once it discovers that it doesn't matter all I can do is laugh- since that's what I've known and said all along.

And then I begin to feel like... what idiot am I? Young splendid dude... funny thoughts in his head- all new and unkempt to say to the world: I know what's best for you?

Who am I to give the world adivce on subjects i've never experienced? I guess... it's just because they're silly.

-rereads- Fucking hell. When I try to explain myself in writing, it gets all poetic... and I hate poetry because it makes no sense at all to me. Fuck me.

"If you give people everything they want they don't learn the meaning of value."
Yes, I know. you're silly for saying that... so definitive and so very incorrect. All I can say is you're a moron and a cute one at that. -smile-
I'm gonna go stick my head in a blender now. I scare meself. Should I click submit?