Some more thoughts--not so fun this time--and another fic.
I have a rant. But it's not as emo as you think. It's more. Ragefacing.
So. My close kohai just texted me, with this:
"Sempai, my friend at school just got killed and i cant stop crying..."
Naturally, worrisome, motherly, counselor and loving (pffft) ole' me went straight to calling her and then asking her to explain exactly what the fuck happened.
www.click2houston.com/video/22744966/index.html
That's a video that basically explains it.
I. Am so angry.
ALSO. THIS FIC IS FOR YOU, thecommoniguana!!
What does it mean to date someone? What does it mean to be hurt?
I don’t like asking questions like this. I really don’t. It’s weird. And icky. And stupid. Mamãe would be angry at me if she knew that I was doing such things. She can be so mean. I don’t like I wish she was nicer.
Nik I’ve been h ra The beach isn’t so Someo
I want to go home.
~*~*~
Maya hated writing Livejournal entries by now. In the beginning, it was fun and cute and people commented and she made friends. But, not anymore. People were either ignoring her or they were tired, and she didn’t like any of that. But she still updated, she still sat at her laptop and tried to type up proper, legible, sensible and smart entries. They were starting to get harder and harder with each sentence, and she found herself backspacing often. It was frustrating.
After hating her fifth draft, Maya slammed her laptop shut and flopped back down onto her bed, burying her face into her pillow, her eyes starting to sting again. It was just annoying and hurtful now, she figured, to try and do anything. Lucky her, school wasn’t in at the moment, taking a nice break, but she still hated it so much. It was scary. Being alone, being with people. It was horrible and frightening and scary and she had never found herself disliking people so much.
After Nikolai had raped her, nothing was fun anymore.
~*~*~
I’m trying to write something smart for your guys. Because it’s hard for me. *A* (Artur, please don’t read this from here on. Marcelo, this goes without saying for you. I don’t want you to be mad.)
Um. It hurts. It really does. But I don’t want to complain. Because other people have been through worse. People have had fingers and arms cut off and mentally destroyed and even killed-who am I to complain about a simple little cut? It’s already stopped bleeding, and the bandage is doing fine.
I don’t want to censor what I’m thinking right now, but I don’t want to say it either. Please forgive me. Desculpe, tudo mundo.
It still hurts.
~*~*~
The pro-account must’ve been a brilliant idea, Maya figured, since she could just text things to LJ. Of course, she would edit her entries later, when she had a computer. That way, it would be more spontaneous and all she would really do is spell check and form full words instead of shorthand.
She had tried shopping, and that had done nothing. Food shopping was horrendous and don’t even mention clothing shopping. Had she been in the right mind, she would’ve texted Lovino for maybe a trip through the mall to cheer her up, but she figured, he wouldn’t want to see her when she was in such pain as now. So she walked through a park, listening to her iPod and crying, texting things to LJ and Facebook and watching the beautiful faces of hopeful children run past her with an energy that she longed for again.
Artur was probably worried. Or maybe not, Maya wondered. And Marcelo was just too busy, anyway. Lovino could go a week without remembering her, Jing would only worry when she wouldn’t go home at night, and there was really no one else. Nikolai was definitely not an option.
Park benches were secluded and empty, which was a viable spot for aching Maya. She sat back and cried, holding her face tight into her sweater, trying to make no noise at all. She was healed from the ache in her breast and head, but the one in her heart was simply numbed. All Maya felt was a dull throb, something much more forceful and sluggish than her normal heartbeat, which couldn’t be as odd as she thought. So her sobbing was almost like a hobby at this moment, something to take up time, since the other options were web-surfing and sleeping. None of which were good, but crying she had to do outside, and that she was alright with. Being outside hurt with other people, but alone was an activity. Or, at least, now it was.
~*~*~
Maya Encarnação
Why don’t kids laugh more?
~*~*~
She kept on promising herself, after this song, after this song, but she never got off that bench. Her On-The-Go playlist played once, twice, fourteen times until she finally got up and stumbled off to the station, eyes red and puffy, and breathing labored. Plotting wasn’t a correct term for what she had been doing, but enough malicious planning had gone into the day for it to be considered that.
The next time she saw Nikolai, she was going to hurt him.
Maybe not as viciously as he hurt her, but she was going to do it. She was going to pull him down and hurt him and yell at him and make him cry. She couldn’t do anything else because he was much bigger and stronger and powerful and fearful, but she knew enough to hurt him, as much as the past her wanted to strangle herself for that. The In-Love Maya, the one who refused to believe that he was the cause, was still vibrant in her head, and she was screeching, protesting, threatening her with guilt and self-hate and reminding her of the promise, the promise. It was so hard to ignore yourself.
But she was livid. Hurt was starting to pass and now she was just angry. She had cried her tears-and she might cry more-but she had cried enough for now and that had gained way for fury to appear and take up her emotions. She wanted him to hurt, and then she wanted to heal him so she could continue hurting him and healing him. To see his tears would be the single worst and best thing she could see, Maya knew. She would cry back for him and cry in his place and hold him with care and love, but she would also not stop him, she would continue her cruelty until he had cried himself out and she hated herself past belief.
~*~*~
Maya Encarnação
How much water is in a human body? How long does it take to cry them all out? How long does it take to get bored of crying, for that matter.
~*~*~
Their meeting went not as expected. Her love showed herself much too quickly, and the rest was just a trembling, shaking Maya trying to appeal to a cold and relentless Nikolai. She didn’t want to be the one who bent first, but she was and that was too much for her to deal with. Nikolai probably hated her, despite his many contrasting words and actions. Something had to be wrong with her.
She was at fault, but he was to blame.
~*~*~
I think I know what it’s like to date someone now.
I don’t like it. (Marcelo, Artur. Stopping point.)
But I love it.
I can’t get enough of him. Although he’s possibly full of me. When he starts to hate me, I’ll be sure to be the first one to run away. So he doesn’t hurt me again. How dare he hurt me. How dare I let him hurt me.
(Marcelo, Artur. You can read now.)
I’m better.
Even though rape hurts.
So. My close kohai just texted me, with this:
"Sempai, my friend at school just got killed and i cant stop crying..."
Naturally, worrisome, motherly, counselor and loving (pffft) ole' me went straight to calling her and then asking her to explain exactly what the fuck happened.
www.click2houston.com/video/22744966/index.html
That's a video that basically explains it.
I. Am so angry.
ALSO. THIS FIC IS FOR YOU, thecommoniguana!!
What does it mean to date someone? What does it mean to be hurt?
I don’t like asking questions like this. I really don’t. It’s weird. And icky. And stupid. Mamãe would be angry at me if she knew that I was doing such things. She can be so mean. I don’t like I wish she was nicer.
Nik I’ve been h ra The beach isn’t so Someo
I want to go home.
~*~*~
Maya hated writing Livejournal entries by now. In the beginning, it was fun and cute and people commented and she made friends. But, not anymore. People were either ignoring her or they were tired, and she didn’t like any of that. But she still updated, she still sat at her laptop and tried to type up proper, legible, sensible and smart entries. They were starting to get harder and harder with each sentence, and she found herself backspacing often. It was frustrating.
After hating her fifth draft, Maya slammed her laptop shut and flopped back down onto her bed, burying her face into her pillow, her eyes starting to sting again. It was just annoying and hurtful now, she figured, to try and do anything. Lucky her, school wasn’t in at the moment, taking a nice break, but she still hated it so much. It was scary. Being alone, being with people. It was horrible and frightening and scary and she had never found herself disliking people so much.
After Nikolai had raped her, nothing was fun anymore.
~*~*~
I’m trying to write something smart for your guys. Because it’s hard for me. *A* (Artur, please don’t read this from here on. Marcelo, this goes without saying for you. I don’t want you to be mad.)
Um. It hurts. It really does. But I don’t want to complain. Because other people have been through worse. People have had fingers and arms cut off and mentally destroyed and even killed-who am I to complain about a simple little cut? It’s already stopped bleeding, and the bandage is doing fine.
I don’t want to censor what I’m thinking right now, but I don’t want to say it either. Please forgive me. Desculpe, tudo mundo.
It still hurts.
~*~*~
The pro-account must’ve been a brilliant idea, Maya figured, since she could just text things to LJ. Of course, she would edit her entries later, when she had a computer. That way, it would be more spontaneous and all she would really do is spell check and form full words instead of shorthand.
She had tried shopping, and that had done nothing. Food shopping was horrendous and don’t even mention clothing shopping. Had she been in the right mind, she would’ve texted Lovino for maybe a trip through the mall to cheer her up, but she figured, he wouldn’t want to see her when she was in such pain as now. So she walked through a park, listening to her iPod and crying, texting things to LJ and Facebook and watching the beautiful faces of hopeful children run past her with an energy that she longed for again.
Artur was probably worried. Or maybe not, Maya wondered. And Marcelo was just too busy, anyway. Lovino could go a week without remembering her, Jing would only worry when she wouldn’t go home at night, and there was really no one else. Nikolai was definitely not an option.
Park benches were secluded and empty, which was a viable spot for aching Maya. She sat back and cried, holding her face tight into her sweater, trying to make no noise at all. She was healed from the ache in her breast and head, but the one in her heart was simply numbed. All Maya felt was a dull throb, something much more forceful and sluggish than her normal heartbeat, which couldn’t be as odd as she thought. So her sobbing was almost like a hobby at this moment, something to take up time, since the other options were web-surfing and sleeping. None of which were good, but crying she had to do outside, and that she was alright with. Being outside hurt with other people, but alone was an activity. Or, at least, now it was.
~*~*~
Maya Encarnação
Why don’t kids laugh more?
~*~*~
She kept on promising herself, after this song, after this song, but she never got off that bench. Her On-The-Go playlist played once, twice, fourteen times until she finally got up and stumbled off to the station, eyes red and puffy, and breathing labored. Plotting wasn’t a correct term for what she had been doing, but enough malicious planning had gone into the day for it to be considered that.
The next time she saw Nikolai, she was going to hurt him.
Maybe not as viciously as he hurt her, but she was going to do it. She was going to pull him down and hurt him and yell at him and make him cry. She couldn’t do anything else because he was much bigger and stronger and powerful and fearful, but she knew enough to hurt him, as much as the past her wanted to strangle herself for that. The In-Love Maya, the one who refused to believe that he was the cause, was still vibrant in her head, and she was screeching, protesting, threatening her with guilt and self-hate and reminding her of the promise, the promise. It was so hard to ignore yourself.
But she was livid. Hurt was starting to pass and now she was just angry. She had cried her tears-and she might cry more-but she had cried enough for now and that had gained way for fury to appear and take up her emotions. She wanted him to hurt, and then she wanted to heal him so she could continue hurting him and healing him. To see his tears would be the single worst and best thing she could see, Maya knew. She would cry back for him and cry in his place and hold him with care and love, but she would also not stop him, she would continue her cruelty until he had cried himself out and she hated herself past belief.
~*~*~
Maya Encarnação
How much water is in a human body? How long does it take to cry them all out? How long does it take to get bored of crying, for that matter.
~*~*~
Their meeting went not as expected. Her love showed herself much too quickly, and the rest was just a trembling, shaking Maya trying to appeal to a cold and relentless Nikolai. She didn’t want to be the one who bent first, but she was and that was too much for her to deal with. Nikolai probably hated her, despite his many contrasting words and actions. Something had to be wrong with her.
She was at fault, but he was to blame.
~*~*~
I think I know what it’s like to date someone now.
I don’t like it. (Marcelo, Artur. Stopping point.)
But I love it.
I can’t get enough of him. Although he’s possibly full of me. When he starts to hate me, I’ll be sure to be the first one to run away. So he doesn’t hurt me again. How dare he hurt me. How dare I let him hurt me.
(Marcelo, Artur. You can read now.)
I’m better.
Even though rape hurts.