Lying from you.
Fhb…
R- Drama/Angst/Romance/Lime. This fanfiction has a sufficient amt of profanity, please be warned.
Syn: How many times can we open our eyes to the same mistake? How many times do we have to lie and say its okay? Pills, drugs, rashes, gossip. Everything we feared was created by us…but how, how do we destroy it? BxK.
Beating the bowels of everything right inside of me. Nothing seems to die. Fearing to fall I still tremble and fall down this slide endlessly…
Haunting faces bloom tonight in the crack of everything wrong and right. Shaped and colored in darkness --voices of dark angels sing to me. When I scream it goes through all the halls. The echoes come back at me. No one hears me call. Alone I am…to be---alone I am to fall.
A teenager has a life no one can understand. We experience things nobody knows, nobody sees, nobody wishes to follow. For such things we call experiences, others say we just have a very pitiful perspective on life.
People say how we dress and how we look is the character we speak. What if sometimes we found ourselves changing, altering for better or for worse, do they know who we are then? In school people treat us quite differently; They're so many different categories, from cheerleaders to jocks, from nerds to drama-queens, and then there's us, the outcasts.
In a room only filled of cigarette smoke, the stench of musky sweat, tantalized perfumes that indeed was sauntered by the tinged of corrupted alcohol and of course the high-scent of illegal drugs, bore refuge to sickness.
Inside the hollow of this room, was the sight of teenage relaxation, teenage frustration, teenage disease. Drunk on their illusional frustrations, mental and self-built inflictions they listened, they danced, they ran the show of being what they were, in the middle of adult and child.
It was weird to just see a few of them stand against the wall and watch you, with stares of silver slit eyes, those which often feed messages, one in which you quickly had to decipher if it was good to stay or go. As everyone knows, teenagers are sick. We don't have a life adults presume. They think we're too air-headed or proud that we make problems, but do we really? I beg to defer.
The room was dully illuminated with red-smoke lights usually located to the ends of the rooms, while laser lights flashed on the spinning globe to the top of the ceiling. Most hands were in the air as they waved it to and fro like the gentle rocking of the waves at sea. Then, there were those wild ones that didn't understand the first lesson of beat. Bass pounded in the room, as distorted rock blasted to its max. I watched them as I passed…the teenagers. All they ever wanted, was to be seen, to be known, to be loved…was that so hard to ask?
Constantly battling their emotions, their pairs, their parents, rules and the obscurities that endowed them, they usually strangled themselves by turning gothic or ghetto, whichever worked for them. Rebellious along the line they came, not really caring what mattered, how they were suppose to feel or perhaps react. Yet they were here exhaling their troubles in a small room full of insensible compensation of relaxation. Or liberty, hey, whatever works.
Rock and rap were usually craved and very expressive of teenagers. Is it true then, music reflect the person within? Again whatever works. Wicked rock played in the room, the acidity in the guitars were raw and very unbalance, yet teenagers called and scarred this song theirs. They thrashed their heads to and fro, hands back and forth, jumping whilst screaming. Some were punks, freaks and the subservient few, Goths.
"Salvation's sickness is mee…" sang this unknown singer. A strong and dark masculine voice he owned.
The teens repeated what he said bobbling their heads in a wild pattern. Pierced ears, nose, brows and body-parts were splashed with the site of tattoos of all different array and sizes. Enticed to this madness was the colour of black and white. Goths usually maintained a strict black colour-code while the punks and freaks usually maintain a white-black theme which was usually accompanied by the colorful hair they dyed it too.
I'm not proud of being a teen or even being 17. I'm not always the best person to talk to. But I wish somehow, when I cry to the heavens above, angels would save me regardless how I acted as before.
An: Hey, my newest wildest fic! Yup guys I swear I'm finishing this fic for sure. If I don't then find me and shoot me. (No not really). This has got to be my deepest Rk work. I took a couple of days with this, so yeh this is my baby. Please tell me what you guys think. Oh and the fanfiction competition awards are out today. See who won…
{P.s:- thank you Shiro-tanuki for the idea of making this fic accessible on my site. I may have never released it if it wasn't for her. Thanks girl, you're a real pal}
Wishing you the best and nothing the less (fhb © quote 2004)
Review if you like…