As long as your know it’s coming. The worst would be having to work hungover. I’m so glad I’m self-employed. I can curse all I want while I work if I do that to myself.
I know I shouldn't speak for other players, but since one of them affects my characters, I thought I'd say something: I don't think Ana will be returning to Lanford due to personal things. Don't worry, she's fine. I'm only making mention of it because of the whole Jamie/Darcy plot, and that's why I broke the ship. To be honest, I'm not really sure if I want to keep Darcy or not now since she was Jamie's connection, even though she's a stand-alone character. It just seems kinda' painful to keep her without Jamie around. Depending on what happens with Lanford, I may drop her in favor for a different female character. For now, I'll keep playing her, and if plots/things keep going well for her, maybe I'll keep her around anyway. I'm just not definite on stuff.
I bet! I had to go back and forth because I didnt have a chance to sit still for more than like a minute at a time and ugh, I was just waiting for the next free moment I had. My heart, it hurt. A lot.
“A home filled with nothing but yourself. It's heavy, that lightness. It's crushing, that emptiness.” ― Margaret Atwood, The Tent
Today, Darcy had no home. As she looked around her empty apartment with her last box, she felt a sense of defeat weighing her heart down. Coming to New York, it was supposed to be a new change. Well, that much was true, though it wasn't the one she'd really wanted. As much as she said she loved being here in New York, she just wanted to run back to Massachusetts. She thought about it, just getting in her car and driving back. Why not? She didn't have a home anymore. Her car was her new house, her back seat packed with clothes and personal belongings.
She told herself she was staying because of Jamie, to make it work, but now as she held the last box to her chest, she wondered if she'd really meant what she said. He hadn't even asked her about her new apartment, so she hadn't had to lie about it. Something about that didn't settle right in her stomach. Her lips pressed together as she stared down at the box, doing her best not to let resentment seep into her veins. It wasn't working, Jamie and her. She hated to even think it, but there was no way around it. She knew it'd be hard, being in a relationship again, and she wanted to put in the effort. But every morning she woke up, she realized that the only thing that was changing was her. Jamie didn't need to change, because he was fine the way he was. Darcy, on the other hand, had to change everything she'd grown to accept about herself. She was the one who had to open up and make herself more vulnerable. She had to come to terms that she'd spent years defining who she was just to have to redefine herself again. Though she'd offered him the chance to be a part of that, she'd already sealed that door closed when she spent years closing herself off to any sort of real discussion.
Now it all felt backwards, being in love without ever actually opening up about her feelings. And now here she was, in her empty apartment, about to move into her car, and save for Kate, no one had inquired about her living arrangements. She'd slipped through the cracks without anyone noticing, and the emptiness of the apartment reflected the realization that she'd cut herself off so much that it wasn't anyone's thought to worry or wonder about her.
As she turned to the front door, she firmly acknowledged the price that came with being independent and strong. No one offered to help when you couldn't be strong. No one was around when you were independent. When you could do fine on your own, no one felt the need to be there to hold your hand. They didn't understand the difference between strong and invincible, not needing other people and wanting them instead. The only reason she'd come to know these things was because she was on the opposite end of the spectrum, knowing how strong she could be and where the limit of that strength was; knowing that she could survive just fine alone, but that loneliness was the hefty price.
She knew she could just break altogether, call everyone up and beg them for help, a place to stay, a hug. But if she did, she was sure she'd never be able to put herself back together again. She'd barely been able to pull herself back together after Sara tore her apart; hell, that was how she came to be the strong, independent woman she was today. But again, that was the price; if she let down that guard, there was a chance she'd shatter again, and she didn't want that to happen. It wasn't a matter of pride, wanting everyone to think she was indestructible; she just didn't want to go back to that dark place, sitting in the girl's bathroom stall and crying her eyes out because...
Because she was a failure. That was the truth of the matter, wasn't it? She'd failed with her parents. She'd failed her brothers. She'd failed her friends. She'd failed with Sara. She had failed everyone because she hadn't been what they thought she was. And there it was, the core of it. She couldn't be herself without failing others. Wasn't it better to endure, to be living out of her car, to be struggling to pay off her bills and loans, than to ask for help? Because she'd have to admit she failed, again. And maybe that was why things felt wrong with Jamie-- because the only options were to either pretend to be indestructible to make him happy, or to fail him by showing her real colors.
She opened the door and stepped out of the apartment, taking in a deep breath. She'd heard back in high school, during health class, that drowning wasn't as obvious as it was made to be on TV. Most of the time, people who drowned couldn't cry out, because they couldn't keep their mouth above the water. They couldn't thrash around or wave for help because they were so weighed down by the water, and their tiredness, and their bodies went into autopilot to try and keep themselves alive. Maybe that was why someone once compared life to sinking or swimming. Because when people were drowning in the seas of life, they didn't scream or cry, they didn't wave for people to help. They just went down, fighting to survive. That's how she felt at the moment. The weight of the world was pulling her down, and pride and fear were keeping her from crying out. She wanted to think she'd have enough stamina to keep her head above water, but for how long? How long until she got so tired that she just sunk under the waves and let go? She didn't like the idea of doing that. It seemed so defeated, so weak and cowardly... But people who were drowning weren't weak, or cowards. They were just trying to survive.
She knew what she had to do. She had to recalibrate, make sacrifices to save herself rather than be weighed further down. As she walked down to her car, she pulled her phone out from her pocket and dialed up Jamie's number. She settled the box on her hips as she walked out to the car, all too grateful to get voice mail rather than her friend on the other end. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes to make her thoughts crystal clear.
"Hey, Jamie. Look, I hate to do this over a voice mail, but I know if I don't, I'll end up not doing it all. ...I don't want to be together anymore." She wondered if those words sounded as sharp as they felt. "Jamie, you didn't even talk to me on my birthday, and you... You didn't even ask about my new apartment or where I was going. And no, I'm not saying those are the reasons, but... You don't ask me about anything. I don't know how that can't bother you, because I spent years questioning the shit out of you so I knew you. You're just happy with who you think I am, and I don't think you want that to change. I honestly believed you're in love with me... But not me. Your version of me. And I don't want to wake up every day wondering when you're going to realize I'm not the girl you fell in love with. And... To be honest, you're not the guy I fell for anymore. You're still a great guy, still a decent human being, but you're not my nerdy-butt anymore." She smiled grimly to herself. "I wanted to believe we were the same people as back in college, but... We're just not. And I was so happy to be here. I was so happy to be with you again, because I thought it'd be the same, and it's just... It's not." She pressed her lips firmly together as the sudden urge to sob overcame her. When she spoke again, her voice was strained by emotion. "You used to be my home, Jamie. Somewhere where I felt safe and wanted, and now... Now I don't have a home, because I don't feel safe or wanted with you."
She swallowed quickly, setting her box down to brush away her tears quickly. "...Somewhere in my heart, I'll always have you. My best friend, my nerdy-butt, my home. But that time's over now, and I have to grow up too. I can't keep living in this world of besties forever and thinking nothing will ever change, because it already has. And I can't change around you because I'm too afraid of losing you, so either way I'm losing out. So I have to... I can't be with you anymore." She ran a hand through her hair, staring ahead of herself. "I wish I'd realized back in college how much I was going to love you, so I could have been who I really am, so I could have you now. But I can't take it back. It's the only thing in my life I wish I could, and that makes it so much worse. Maybe in another time, another place, or something... But this is here and now, and it's not working. I don't want to be afraid to change anymore."
She thought about saying 'I love you' one last time, but in her heart, she knew it was pointless. What was the point of telling someone you loved them when it wasn't the person you loved anymore? So instead, she hung up the phone and again wiped her eyes, before picking up her box and heading out to her car.
Book was left with a small note: “Hey Darce, happy birthday. Well, here’s a copy of the first edition of Pet Semetary I found in a shop I always go, because I love the smell of old books and you seemed to enjoy, too. Please don’t throw the book in my face, it’s used and old, so you don’t have to think it’s charity —- And Stephen King may have or may have not scribbled something inside. Who gives someone else a book that was written on, right? Anyway, here’s my number, hit me up so we can grab a few celebratory drinks. - xx Rose.”
I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Maybe it was because half the night I was kept awake by obnoxious, ridiculous snoring to the point where I was coughing and banging on the wall just to try to wake her up, or maybe it's because she's on the phone trying to tell her friend that I'm a bad dog owner because my dog has been "holed up" in the bathroom all week. Well, the reason for that would be because she made such a huge fucking deal about my declawed cat "scratching" her finger that I don't trust her to be around my dog. My dog likes to jump on people, and she likes to dig her nails, however short, into skin, and I know the fit she'd throw if that happened to her. The last thing I need is her trying to come after me over a scratch. because she's poor and she really seems like the type who would sue over that kind of shit.
I'm ready for this week to be over. Saturday, please hurry up.
prguitarman
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
gummygunk
theartofmadeline
yousharknotpass
pixelskylines
tangentwithtanner
jimmyeatworldofficial
