(no subject)
Damn you've got some wicked style.
And the phone launches from my hand like a cannon, hitting the wall with stronger force than I expected and leaving an appropriate scar in the process. I was out of control and I knew it; angrier than I wanted to be but at the same time I was very well aware that it was worth it. Everything that I was feeling at this very moment was totally justified. I couldn’t argue with that, and neither could the world.
And as I sat on my bed, clinching my pillow between my arms to avoid tearing something apart, I happened to glance outside. The sound of the rain stole my attention. And I was forced to stare out into the Richmond air attempting to grab the city lights with my bare hands.
It’s raining hard and each drops seems to punch my window like a boxer in the midst of a prize-winning fight. Puddles are being created and accidents are popping up everywhere and still the rain continues to fall, seamlessly making out with my window sill.
The rain reminds me of her.
it was raining that night. hard. not the awful kind of rain that helps people get in car wrecks but the kind that’s soft and gentle and amazing to listen to. i forced her out of the car and tried to dance around the parking lot with her. it was freezing; the wind was blowing, the temperature was low, and my jacket was nowhere to be found. but it didn’t matter. she was there. the rain was there. we were there. and i wanted to do something different.
there are so many things that I want to do with her that I can’t even begin to name them all. the sensation i get when she’s around is unmatched, and unfortunately, unexplainable as well. i want so many things when she’s there, but i don’t act on them. I don’t act on my impulses. First rule of drama: always act on an impulse. Some intelligent guy said life is a stage. Maybe I should start acting on my impulses.
something. different.
And now its coming down hard enough to the point where I cant even see the construction or Monroe Park across the street. The rain has blinded me, its tied my hands behind my back to the point where I cant move or see. I’m paralyzed by Mother Nature, from the depths of my own dorm room.
we don’t dance in the rain much. i wish we did, though. everybody complains about rainy days, but water dries. memories of dancing in the rain with a gorgeous girl don’t dry up. they don’t evaporate. ever.
to continue reading, click ‘Read More’ below
and maybe that’s why i wanted to dance in the rain. I’m kinda getting tired of stuff in my life just evaporating.
we sat in the sandbox, protected by the roof over our heads. squeezed tight together, we attempted to cuddle. and finally she kissed me. and while our lips were touching and the sand was beneath me and the rain was all around me, I was completely untouchable. awesome. kiss. rain. sandbox.
and i knew she had to go. i knew she had work to do, things to do, stuff to get done, places to go, people to see. and i wasn’t about to let her go anywhere. i wanted nothing more at that moment than to sit and make out with her in the sandbox while it rained. i wanted her to kiss me hard, and then slowly ease back into a soft tender kiss, and slide a subtle tongue in every now and then. she knows how to push my buttons. especially while we kiss. she’s the only one.
and i wanted to sit and make out with her forever in that sandbox. i wanted to get physical, when i knew she wasn’t in the mood. and really, if we’re being serious, i wasn’t either. i wasn’t horny. not especially, anyway. but for some reason, the rain made me feel connected to her. and i wanted to make out with her despite the cold wind, the blistering temperature, and the miserable weather. i wanted to make out with her despite what time it was, despite all the work we both had to do, and despite that fucking idiot who sat in his car and decided to unleash a little anger every few minutes. wash, rinse, repeat. over and over.
the rain made me feel so connected with her, and i cant even explain why. i wanted to decorate the sandbox with our clothes. i wanted to touch her body. i wanted to kiss her. in places i’ve never kissed her before. i wanted to go at it in the rain.
i felt connected. plugged in.
if it rains any harder my window is going to experience a KO and the rain is going to invade my room like it was a foreign country.
there were so many things i wanted to do, and i can’t even explain why i wanted to do them, but i did. i had this desire. this need. for her. to be with me. i wanted to feel connected. i wanted us to be plugged in. in the sandbox. but i couldn’t tell her for fear that it might seem like i wanted to rape her. no Kobe, no. down boy. heel. i couldn’t tell her everything. so i simply kissed her back until she dragged me away from the playground. unaware of what i was feeling. and i don’t blame her for that one bit. at all. stuff like that happens. bad luck.
i could have gone at it with her for hours, removed her clothes, touched her all over, and not been horny. i wanted her. but not because my penis wanted her. i wanted to be connected with her.
its not about sex.
up the stairs, the station where the act becomes the art of growing up.
i dont want to grow up just yet.
in the midst of these fantasies, i found myself walking back to the car, in fear of a man whom we didn’t even know. a man i didn’t know ruined my connection. he ruined a feeling that i’m not even sure where it came from. he ruined a feeling that i loved. he ruined the rain. and the sandbox.
screw you, angry guy in the ugly car. you ruined it. Whatever it was that you were ranting and raving about nearby scared her enough to have the urge to return to the car; ruining what was evolving into one of the most magical moments in my life in a long time. And you murdered it before it could even begin.
From time to time when I’m walking near my church I’ll open my eyes a little wider and listen a little closer for that man that ruined my evening. I don’t know him, I’ve never seen him close up, but I’m sure if I saw him again I’d know it was him. Kinda like how Spiderman always knows when he’s about to get destroyed.
Maybe I have spidey-senses and I don’t know it.
And if I ever saw Mr. Self-Centered Bastard face to face, the things I’d do to him cannot be described by the human emotion. There just isn’t an appropriate term. Not because what he did was so wrong; he was just bitching at the wrong time, and certainly at the wrong place. If you want to throw a personal temper-tantrum, you have the luxury of your own home. And ruining my evening of goodness is not part of that luxury. Despite what you might think.
The rain is pounding harder on my window now and I’m immediately sucked back into that fantasy world where nothing else matters except memories of her and i. And sometimes I wish I could live here; so I’d have no more troubles or stress or problems to take care of. Just priceless stories telling of a helpless boy who wanted to be closer to her. And every time he got closer, he only wanted to be closer.
And once her tires squeeled and her steering wheel was put to good use, I watched her move further and further towards the horizon until she disappeared like the final cookie resting in the cookie jar. This left me sitting in the parking lot for half an hour, wishing she’d come back. Simply so i could feel.
so i could feel connected.
And I felt that connection.
And at that very moment the rain seemed to stop upon command, knowing that it had done its job, and each and every drop was suddenly sucked back into the clouds as if they were never there to begin with. And while Mother Nature stares down at me with a smile on her face, the arrogant September moon peeked out from behind the pitch black nothing, seemingly sealing every worry fear and anxiety in my body.
The moon hangs like the blade of an ax tonight. Won’t you dance with me in the shadows of the Richmond skyline? It’ll be our little secret.
-chad frealz.
And the phone launches from my hand like a cannon, hitting the wall with stronger force than I expected and leaving an appropriate scar in the process. I was out of control and I knew it; angrier than I wanted to be but at the same time I was very well aware that it was worth it. Everything that I was feeling at this very moment was totally justified. I couldn’t argue with that, and neither could the world.
And as I sat on my bed, clinching my pillow between my arms to avoid tearing something apart, I happened to glance outside. The sound of the rain stole my attention. And I was forced to stare out into the Richmond air attempting to grab the city lights with my bare hands.
It’s raining hard and each drops seems to punch my window like a boxer in the midst of a prize-winning fight. Puddles are being created and accidents are popping up everywhere and still the rain continues to fall, seamlessly making out with my window sill.
The rain reminds me of her.
it was raining that night. hard. not the awful kind of rain that helps people get in car wrecks but the kind that’s soft and gentle and amazing to listen to. i forced her out of the car and tried to dance around the parking lot with her. it was freezing; the wind was blowing, the temperature was low, and my jacket was nowhere to be found. but it didn’t matter. she was there. the rain was there. we were there. and i wanted to do something different.
there are so many things that I want to do with her that I can’t even begin to name them all. the sensation i get when she’s around is unmatched, and unfortunately, unexplainable as well. i want so many things when she’s there, but i don’t act on them. I don’t act on my impulses. First rule of drama: always act on an impulse. Some intelligent guy said life is a stage. Maybe I should start acting on my impulses.
something. different.
And now its coming down hard enough to the point where I cant even see the construction or Monroe Park across the street. The rain has blinded me, its tied my hands behind my back to the point where I cant move or see. I’m paralyzed by Mother Nature, from the depths of my own dorm room.
we don’t dance in the rain much. i wish we did, though. everybody complains about rainy days, but water dries. memories of dancing in the rain with a gorgeous girl don’t dry up. they don’t evaporate. ever.
to continue reading, click ‘Read More’ below
and maybe that’s why i wanted to dance in the rain. I’m kinda getting tired of stuff in my life just evaporating.
we sat in the sandbox, protected by the roof over our heads. squeezed tight together, we attempted to cuddle. and finally she kissed me. and while our lips were touching and the sand was beneath me and the rain was all around me, I was completely untouchable. awesome. kiss. rain. sandbox.
and i knew she had to go. i knew she had work to do, things to do, stuff to get done, places to go, people to see. and i wasn’t about to let her go anywhere. i wanted nothing more at that moment than to sit and make out with her in the sandbox while it rained. i wanted her to kiss me hard, and then slowly ease back into a soft tender kiss, and slide a subtle tongue in every now and then. she knows how to push my buttons. especially while we kiss. she’s the only one.
and i wanted to sit and make out with her forever in that sandbox. i wanted to get physical, when i knew she wasn’t in the mood. and really, if we’re being serious, i wasn’t either. i wasn’t horny. not especially, anyway. but for some reason, the rain made me feel connected to her. and i wanted to make out with her despite the cold wind, the blistering temperature, and the miserable weather. i wanted to make out with her despite what time it was, despite all the work we both had to do, and despite that fucking idiot who sat in his car and decided to unleash a little anger every few minutes. wash, rinse, repeat. over and over.
the rain made me feel so connected with her, and i cant even explain why. i wanted to decorate the sandbox with our clothes. i wanted to touch her body. i wanted to kiss her. in places i’ve never kissed her before. i wanted to go at it in the rain.
i felt connected. plugged in.
if it rains any harder my window is going to experience a KO and the rain is going to invade my room like it was a foreign country.
there were so many things i wanted to do, and i can’t even explain why i wanted to do them, but i did. i had this desire. this need. for her. to be with me. i wanted to feel connected. i wanted us to be plugged in. in the sandbox. but i couldn’t tell her for fear that it might seem like i wanted to rape her. no Kobe, no. down boy. heel. i couldn’t tell her everything. so i simply kissed her back until she dragged me away from the playground. unaware of what i was feeling. and i don’t blame her for that one bit. at all. stuff like that happens. bad luck.
i could have gone at it with her for hours, removed her clothes, touched her all over, and not been horny. i wanted her. but not because my penis wanted her. i wanted to be connected with her.
its not about sex.
up the stairs, the station where the act becomes the art of growing up.
i dont want to grow up just yet.
in the midst of these fantasies, i found myself walking back to the car, in fear of a man whom we didn’t even know. a man i didn’t know ruined my connection. he ruined a feeling that i’m not even sure where it came from. he ruined a feeling that i loved. he ruined the rain. and the sandbox.
screw you, angry guy in the ugly car. you ruined it. Whatever it was that you were ranting and raving about nearby scared her enough to have the urge to return to the car; ruining what was evolving into one of the most magical moments in my life in a long time. And you murdered it before it could even begin.
From time to time when I’m walking near my church I’ll open my eyes a little wider and listen a little closer for that man that ruined my evening. I don’t know him, I’ve never seen him close up, but I’m sure if I saw him again I’d know it was him. Kinda like how Spiderman always knows when he’s about to get destroyed.
Maybe I have spidey-senses and I don’t know it.
And if I ever saw Mr. Self-Centered Bastard face to face, the things I’d do to him cannot be described by the human emotion. There just isn’t an appropriate term. Not because what he did was so wrong; he was just bitching at the wrong time, and certainly at the wrong place. If you want to throw a personal temper-tantrum, you have the luxury of your own home. And ruining my evening of goodness is not part of that luxury. Despite what you might think.
The rain is pounding harder on my window now and I’m immediately sucked back into that fantasy world where nothing else matters except memories of her and i. And sometimes I wish I could live here; so I’d have no more troubles or stress or problems to take care of. Just priceless stories telling of a helpless boy who wanted to be closer to her. And every time he got closer, he only wanted to be closer.
And once her tires squeeled and her steering wheel was put to good use, I watched her move further and further towards the horizon until she disappeared like the final cookie resting in the cookie jar. This left me sitting in the parking lot for half an hour, wishing she’d come back. Simply so i could feel.
so i could feel connected.
And I felt that connection.
And at that very moment the rain seemed to stop upon command, knowing that it had done its job, and each and every drop was suddenly sucked back into the clouds as if they were never there to begin with. And while Mother Nature stares down at me with a smile on her face, the arrogant September moon peeked out from behind the pitch black nothing, seemingly sealing every worry fear and anxiety in my body.
The moon hangs like the blade of an ax tonight. Won’t you dance with me in the shadows of the Richmond skyline? It’ll be our little secret.
-chad frealz.