A/N: I apologize for my sudden disappearance and my inability to post recently. I've just been busy with schoolwork and family trouble, but I should be able to write more often soon. :)
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...They lose their ballads and their lipped-mouths in the night627Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoi0AVBQ8Cp
And stumbling through the street, they say627Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWJwaAipC5n
"Sir, do you got a light?627Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7CNQFEfH7C
And if you do then you're my friend627Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0FgvPBEB7G
And if you don't then you're my foe627Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxmjIB6zIyv
And if you are a deity of any sort then please don't go"...
-Regina Spektor, Ne Me Quitte Pas
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I listened wearily to the rumbling of the bus as the elderly driver made no real attempt to avoid the abundant potholes that lined the asphalt. The bus was nearly deserted, and the ride was falling -gradually, but most definitely- towards being shady and uncomfortable. The more he tried to keep up a boring, much-too-interested-in-how-I-was-doing-in-school conversation, the more I yearned for the drive to be over. The crippling sense of self-loathing and the massive pounding of an intrusive migraine didn't serve me much other than making me slightly nauseated.
At last, I was dropped off at the outskirts area of Detroit. This area of the city, the more downtown-upscale-not-so-murderous-y section of the city, was not so bad. Sure, it was late. Sure, I kept my hand on my pocket knife, with such a grip that turned my knuckles white. (Which was ironic, as I am pretty much as dark as they come) I felt as if every passing pair of headlights in my peripheral vision were going to be the last thing I saw before I met my untimely end. Even still, I felt free and safe and if I was ready to face the world, because I knew where I was going, right?
Hm. This is where it gets tricky.
I wanted to believe that I had myself under control. I wanted to believe that I knew exactly what I was doing. The plan that I had in my head, though rudimentary, still served as a golden compass for me to follow without doubt. Only, I couldn't keep the creeping doubt, the unavoidable paranoia out of my thoughts. I could be wrong. I most definitely was wrong. But in the end, I did have a plan. However basic, or filled with holes, or undenyingly insane, the plan was still there.
I reached into my left pocket, where I kept a half-sheet of looseleaf paper. Unraveling the paper, I read, under my breath, the worlds I had hastily scribbled down in the hysteria of leaving my home for what could be forever. In the dim lights of the suburban streetlights, I tilted the paper until the ink was somewhat reflecting the light, and somewhat legible.
Mr. and Mrs. Hapthune
68991 LightFeet Dr.
48083, Ferndale, Mi
My only plan. My only lead. My only shimmering glimmer of hope in a world intent on burning me alive.
ns 15.158.61.23da2
