Caused by an overdose of Everclear, of angst, and of most of the stories on ff.net still not being up.... argh! My sanity!
Lots of italics ahead. I like 'em. Some grammatically broken (I'm sure... babelfish.com isn't always the best) German also (If I'm incorrect about something, feel free to point it out). Lyrics to Everclear's "Song From an American Movie Pt. 2". Just go with the flow... there may be actual sex someday when I finish this...
I think it’s safe to say…
~Sometimes I get to a point where I don't give a damn about anything anymore
Sometimes I get to a point where I feel numb and I just don't care
Sometimes I feel like I just don't care~
Living my whole life like some freak in a goldfish bowl, where people stare and gawk and try to imagine “What’s it like? What’s it like?”
Blue fur, pointed ears, three fingers on each hand, and two toes on each foot. Unusual, ain’t I? Well, there’s unusual, there’s eccentric, there’s unique… and for the people who are too unique, there’s…
Ich bin ein Begeisterter. (1)
But some people don’t give you labels.
"Dude, just don't hassle me about my shades and we'll call it even."
And he’d give me a little smile like I was normal, just like any other person he might run into.
~I sit inside my car and listen to the radio
I think about the past and it seems so long ago
I know the pain is slowly going to fade
This life is going to get better
(Things are going to be better)~
And maybe that was all I’d ever really wanted was that unconditional acceptance, that sense that no matter what I ever looked like or did in this world I’d still be the same person, and the same expectations would be held of me.
A fantasy, surely, but such an enticing one. And he was an enticing fantasy as well, tall, slim, and muscular with silky brown hair and an easy smile. Sometimes he dwelled too highly on the negative, but that was only to be expected.
Sometimes I think my only regret was never knowing what color his eyes really were, never being able to examine his irises without the barrier of his visor or sunglasses. Ah, but we all pay prices, I suppose.
The first time he was alone with me, he told me to take my holo-watch off.
“It’s stupid, don’t you think? Do you really want to hide behind that thing when there’s no need?”
~I wait until my ex-wife has gone away
I walk around the house getting lost inside the old days
I see a picture where everybody's smiling...
I know... I got to keep it on the inside~
When he said that, my heart skipped a beat. No, I didn’t want to hide… but there was always a need, wasn’t there? Because Kitty became squeamish at the sight of my face, I, in turn, had become self-conscious of being without the barrier, the safety net, of my holographic inducer.
When I took off the watch, it was like taking off a layer of skin. I felt naked, exposed, in front of Scott, of all people. A person I admired and respected. A person whom I found myself thinking about more and more often.
And he just stared at me, stared without curiosity and without a trace of judgment. He was just drinking it in, swallowing it, swallowing me and my appearance. The attention made me uncomfortable; I began to fidget, a nervous habit.
He lifted a hand to my face and I wasn’t sure what I assumed. I assumed something, that he wanted to feel the fur or the ears for himself or just…
I don’t know.
But instead he ran his fingers through my hair, very softly, barely touching my scalp and not pulling at all. I let my eyelids slide half-closed and just watched him. He had brought his other hand into my hair as well and was pushing it out of my eyes, pushing it back and towering over me, and pushing it back, pushing it back…
~I want to get lost from my life sometimes
Sit on the side and watch the world go by
I want to get lost and I don't know why
Sometimes I want to get lost and I don't know why~
And then, in one smooth motion his lips were on mine, pressing gentle, hot, and wet. Somehow it didn’t surprise me, nothing surprised me; I stood, numbly, and let him kiss me.
First kisses should be sweet, but this was just bitter. It felt good, it felt so good, but it wasn’t right because no one was supposed to want to kiss me.
Ich bin häßlich.(2)
Especially not boys, boys don’t kiss boys. Gee, Scott. If you wanted to make my life even more complicated, you sure picked the best way to do it, ha ha.
And then I thought about how we’d look making love, sprawled on my bed, legs entangled, embracing, and just feeling, feeling each other, feeling a pleasure to make up for years of torment.
~(Sometimes I want to get lost and dream for a while)~
All I felt in that instant was selfish desire, a desire to possess and be possessed and just have the love and acceptance I dreamed about. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pushed my body against his, relishing the warmth and pure emotion in the act. I felt his mouth open against mine and I followed his lead, parting my lips to accept a greedy conquest of my mouth; when our tongues touched, I gasped.
It was a mistake. Scott took my gasp to mean horror and not excitement; he pushed me away from him and turned to face the opposite wall.
It was only then that it occurred to me how nervous this may have made him, how much courage he may have had to find just to touch me. I idly began to wonder about all the time we’d spent together as friends, all the times our hands had accidentally touched, all the times Scott had pulled me away from something dangerous. Had he been thinking about whether, someday, he’d kiss me? Or fuck me? Or just hold me? Had he wanted someone to hold him?
It was puzzling.
~Waiting for my little girl
Waiting on the school bus
We're going to the movies
Yeah just the two of us
Sit inside the dark and dream for awhile
Our life is going to get better (Yeah it's going to be better)~
His back was still to me; he’d stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry,” his voice cracked, “I’m sorry… that was uncalled for. I just-”
You just what, you idiot? Professed your undying love for me, made an offer, given me a sign, what? But I didn’t say that, I just tiptoed behind him and put my hand on his back.
“I can’t read your mind like Jean can,” My words sounded too loud, too sarcastic, but it was too late to change them, “You’ll have to tell me what you want.”
“I don’t know what I want.”
Ich auch nicht, mein Freund. (4)
Or should I say, mein Geliebter. (5)
(1)- I am a freak.
(2)- I am ugly.
(3)- I hurt.
(4)- Me neither, my friend.
(5)- My lover.