You don't have permission to post in this thread.
Me: People gonna hate me no matter what I do, gonna learn to be numb to that shit.
Also me: *in tears* why can’t we be friends about this
Okay but Chucky was doing his best, it’s not his fault he was wired wrong. He does not understand killing is bad. That’s my baby boy leave him alone.
I want the bitches responsible for that dumb ass Witcher MHW cross over quest to fucking trip and land on their faces fuck em raggedy hoes
[coming+soon [center [size15 [#859ecc [b BYAIASASFP
big heart eyes to my one and only tbh
did i post this already? hecc
A big family. Lived in a nice big house. With woods around. About six children they had. The wife and husband had lost what they had. Something tragic had happened. But it wasn’t revealed.
One of the children, let’s call him Max, despises his father. He wore a bunny onsie that was ragged from use. Stained from the stories he’s played. Mother knew he loved it the minute he saw it. It did not belong to him though. But she did not tell him. It saddened her. She could never put that sadness on her little ones. Max had recently done a painting. It was acrylic. Slathered together to the best of his seven year old ability. It showed a tomb labeled “RIP” and a tall figure holding a smaller one. They were approaching the grave, and the smaller one was distraught. The sky was deep red. They stood in a very steep hill which was only indicated by a transparent black line. When the teacher said the piece was confusing, he bursted our in anger. “Can’t you see? This guy knows the little one’s mother is dead, so now he can make the little guy-“ he paused, he didn’t want anyone to [i actually] know it was a depiction of his father and him. So he stuttered, “the little guy is his slave. So now there’s nothing happy in his life anymore.” The teacher brushed this off as a wild imagination. After all, she had seen these kids invent stories that were too bizarre to even question as their mental state being poor. She knew Max loved to make epics. She figured he was caught up in another he had invented. The children in his class, how ever, took it upon themselves to make note of his outburst.
After school, the children played with their loving mother. Who challenged her mighty children. They laughed and wrestled, then snuggled and kissed. The children knew their beautiful mother was happy with them. Except that something haunted her. At bedtime, they would not sleep. They would listen for the raised voices of their parents arguing in the master bedroom.
In private, mother would cradle a bunched up blanket. The smile on her face made it seem like nothing had ever hurt her. She could hear the baby fussing, she would cover it in kisses and tell it many things about her day. Father, however, was deeply upset she clung to the blanket and belongings of their lost son.
[center “It’s been so long, Julia. You need to move on.”]
She ignored her frustrated husband, every time. He would try to talk some sense into her, every night. It did no good. She insisted that this was the only way she could connect with her lost baby boy. She could feel the connection in her stomach. Where he had been.
[center “When I do this, I [b feel] him, B. He grew in me, he was a part of me. You couldn’t possibly understand.” She hugged the bunch close to her breast, to muffle the sound of their voices.
“Julia, he was my son, too. I was there, okay?”]
The children all leaned against the walls of their bedroom, listening for their mother. Ensuring she was safe.
Max sat in his room with his five year old sister, Lily. Who insisted she stay with him at all times. In his pink ragged bunny onesie, curled up in bed. Brewing with resentment towards his father.
The next day after school a few girls from Max’s class had come over to hang out with his older sister. She was 10, so they kept behind her like a small shadows. Claire didn’t mind that they admired her. She just loved company. Lily played with them too. She wanted to be around more girls. Claire wasn’t her preferred company but they were loving towards each other as sisters nonetheless.
Father had come up to the grumpy pink bunny boy, asking what had him so troubled. Max only gave him attitude. To which the girls pointed out:
[center “Max is upset because of a painting he made the other day and the teacher said it wasn’t good.”]
Lily, having seeing the other girls saying what had upset Max, put her two cents in:
[center “Max is mad at you, daddy. Duh.”]
Max glared at his little sister, not expecting her sudden mouthy betrayal. Father sighed and threw his hands up. It was time to have a talk to clear up the situation with Max.
Meanwhile, Mother was in her room. With a readied infant car seat. She shushed the bundles in her arms, rocking as she paced around the room. Father had entered the room and the girls peeked in behind him. He shut the door and sighed upon seeing her tending to a pretend baby.
[center “Julia, please not right now. I just got done talking with Max and-”
“Don’t y’all so loud! Curtis is upset.” She pulled you her shirt, revealing her breast, to feed the baby.]
Father rubbed his temples. He was exhausted from the children, from his hysterical wife, from everything surrounding him. Right when he was on the verge of even mentioning their failing marriage, Mother swatted at him for attention.
[center “B, look!”]
Her nipple was bruised from rough biting. Father was stunned, none of their children was breast feeding. And it was impossible for her to be cheating. One of their kids would have said something by now. He was puzzled.
Soon enough, phased in a tall man, dressed up in suit and tie, with a pinky fuzzy bunny hoodie sticking out from under his coat.
[center He looked up at father, “Hello, Dad.”]
[center That was that. Nothing changed, he still felt indifferent to everything and everyone. He was a puppet. He knew how he was supposed to think. What to say and how to react. His laughs were momentarily genuine, but not enough to shake his coat; made from all the debris of how he should be. Charles always thought it was terrible of him. To never feel what he portrayed.
The 34-year-old man stared at the ceiling.
"[#578cc1 What should I have for dinner?]" He thought out loud.
If he spoke to the air, it felt less lonely. Made things for him feel more comfortable. Talking to people was work because he had to blend in. Talking to no one meant that no one would question who he was. No inconveniences.
~ ♦ ~
Just like every other night he had thrown some things together. Whatever he assumed would be good for him. His body needed to be fueled for the acting he had in store the next day.
[center It had been a day. Not bad nor good. Just what it was. Time ticking by steadily. Breathing was just like another everyday task. Riding the bus was always quiet, the occasional stray chatter or the seat clanking. White noise. His shoes clacked, catching his tired weight from the steps of the bus. It hissed, then accelerated from the post.
The man wasn't tired. But there wasn't much energy being put into carrying himself up the stairs. He reached the fourth floor, walking down the row of apartments. Doors he passed read: 43. 45. 47. Stopping at 49 without even processing it. He pulled out his keys; even fiddling was a bore. Charles would never be described as interesting.
In fact, growing up he was never a problematic child. It was just what it was. His parents had no interest in who he was. It was made clear the day his father OD'ed. Six feet under their drug revolved graves, he sat outside the door for hours. Wondering why his parents had not opened the door after he had screamed and knocked hours ago. A neighbor coming home from work for dinner eventually called the landlord. Unsure as to why no one was responding within the apartment. After entering, they realized Lydia, Charles' mother, lay cold on the couch. Father not to be seen. Nor found.
It wasn't any trouble for him traveling foster home to home. It didn't bother him. People whispered, "he's experiencing shock, he'll make it through fine."
When you read this I want you to know it’s 4 am and I’m pissed because we had to fight the door to get out so I could use the bathroom LOL
When you listen to your uncle low key flirt/get to know a girl online instead of playing games :) bitchwtf
[coming+soon [center [size15 [#859ecc [b So the only job that called me back interviewed me today. And honestly I can’t help but want this job and hoped I made such a good impression. The pay is $12 and it’s desk job/handling test results/etc. They seem genuinely neat and I think I’d really enjoy it. I’m sure someone with extremely awesome qualities will pop right in but here’s to hoping the two people after me aren’t all that fantastic LOL.
They said they’d call next week.
I’m so very excited? It’s not fast food... it’s chill. Team oriented. And I don’t need crazy certificates or school time to be qualified.
I’m not crazy great st everything... but I can hope... :) I haven’t felt very good about something adult-ish in awhile. It’s been really bumming me out, honestly.
So I needed this. Even if I don’t get hired. I think I’m confident enough to keep trying now after this. I’ve got nothing to lose.
But here’s to working on my temper. Lmfao.
I can’t go back to sleep because I feel shitty.
I keep crying.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about whether or not I should bother being alive. I’m just a bother lmao.
All posts are either in parody or to be taken as literature. This is a roleplay site. Sexual content is forbidden.