"When I was fifteen, I had a giant fight with me mam," Pete said quietly, "we were spewing hateful words like they were nothing. She told me I couldn't see my friend Matt any more, because apparently he was bad news. According to her, he had been the cause of all of my emotional turmoil. He had done everything wrong, and therefore I couldn't be friends with him anymore. I told her that she was off her rocker, and that I wasn't going to listen to her because she wasn't thinking straight. As much as Matt was a slight troublemaker, I also wanted her to realise that without him, my life was pretty worthless. He made my life entirely worth everything. She didn't listen, of course. She continued to forbid me to do anything with him. She said that if I was going to be like that, I should leave the house."
"What happened?" I asked, worrying my bottom lip with my teeth.
"I left," he said, his dark eyes lifting to meet my cerulean ones. "Well, I tried to. My mom grabbed my upper arm, said that I was going to stay there. Her hypocrisy angered me and I flared up, the fire rushing down my arm. Her hand was burnt, and she was screaming in pain."
"That was it?"
"No, of course not. I relished in her pain. I wanted her to feel as pained as I had felt.

Post from mobile portal m.livejournal.com

God was crying. That's what my mom used to say, when it was raining. God was crying because bad people were doing bad things, and he couldn't bear to see His children doing those atrocious acts. I used to ask her why He didn't intervene, and she would reply that sometimes, God wasn't able to rectify all of the atrocities that man had created for himself. The Almighty, as powerful as he was, didn't have the capacity to fix everything. I used to nod my head in compliance and watch the rain fall, wondering what sort of horrible things God was witnessing.
I knew now, what He saw. He saw the pain of a mother losing her only child. He saw the horror of a man killed while walking down the street, simply because of his sexual orientation. He saw children starving in the streets, His children. And yet He did nothing. I could understand not rectifying a few troubles of the world, but not all of them. I could barely fathom the idea that He would allow such behavior from His creations. The Almighty Creator couldn't fix everything, I remember my mom telling me.
But I wish - and used to pray, before I realised that He wasn't going to answer - that He could fix what had happened in the world during the past year and a half.

Post from mobile portal m.livejournal.com

The girl is on stage again, but there’s something different this time. Instead of the normal euphoric feeling that surrounds her, a sadder, more morose aura is enveloping her. She can’t put her finger on it, but something isn’t right with this scene… something is terribly wrong.

She begins strumming, a regular pattern in her mind. E minor, A minor, C. E minor, A minor, C. E minor, A minor, C. There isn’t a happy note in this melody, and she thinks it fitting, considering the sad circumstances.

The boy is there again, but his eyes aren’t happy anymore, they’re sad, and the girl wonders why everything has to be so sad. There’s someone else on his arm, a blonde, with perfect eyes and perfect teeth and a perfect figure, and it hurts her to realize that this new girl is everything she’s not. He deserves her, she thinks, because two such perfect figures are meant to find each other.

E minor, A minor, C. E minor, A minor, C.

This pattern keeps her going, keeps her from breaking down at the sheer emotion in the room, the feelings of sadness, hurt, and pain that is coming from all sides of the building and trapping her.

The boy has tears in his eyes, and she doesn’t know why. He’s got everything he’s ever needed. She should be the one crying. She has nothing.

E minor, A minor, C.

The girl sings into the microphone, and a beautiful noise fills the air, beautiful to everyone except her, because she is her own worst critic, and never has thought much of herself.

The boy’s new girl clings to him tightly, fitting to him perfectly. Once again, perfection is shoved in the girl’s face and she is made all too aware that she is exactly the opposite of what he needed. He needed perfection, and all she had to offer was an old guitar and a genuine smile, something that is hard to come by anymore because the world’s turned fake, she figures, the world’s turned completely upside down and all she can do is hope and pray that someday things will get to the point where all she can do to express herself is sing.

E minor, A minor, C.

NaNoWriMo is eating my soul.
I'm at 10,868 words as of now and should be at 15,003, according to my trusty nano calendar as my desktop background.
-iz ded-

NaNoWriMo starts in two days. -is nervous-
I hope I can get a good plot and run with it. =/

Gearing up for National Novel Writing Month, so I figured I'd start posting on here again. I was thinking of posting whatever pages I manage to write onto here so anyone can read... mainly, just to keep it archived on a place that isn't my harddrive, in case it crashes -_-

Title: In This Diary
Author: Obi-Wan Kenobi... Okay, it's me, wishfultales 
Part: 1/?
Rating: PG13 for language
Pairing: Floynter
Summary: Dougie's journal... nuff said.
Disclaimer: Don't own anyone... =[

( STOP INVADING MY PRIVACY!! )

Two drabbles, for your reading pleasure, consisting of OT4 and Pudd slash. =D


 

This is my writing journal, Wishful Tales. I'll begin posting all my previous writing, and start posting all my new stories. Stay tuned. =]