#filled pages

[wintermae]

Love makes different monsters out of people.

Mae Cardwell

[bubblemuse]

Story of my life

So... You're gonna think this another poem... Like all the others... But it's not... This is just the best way to say how I feel... Cause I mean, it could be a call for help and you'd really never know... I can already name a few times I tried to get you to hear me... Receive any help I could... But it never came... Was never realized... So here I sit... With my pen, paper and lyrical Mastery... Pouring out my heart that you'd just see as interesting rhymes and lines.... When all I see is blood running down the page... Blood that just happens to be black forever staining this white... Making it impure... Somehow being appreciated by all those around it... Probably not everyone however... I mean, we're like those very pages we write on aren't we... Mass produced feeling as though we can be easily replaced... Made impure by the black of time... Growing darker with each passing letter... Some of us only going through a sentence before we're torn and thrown away... Others well preserved with paragraphs of bitter sweet tales on their sides... Others like me, crumpled at the edges but still going... A story spilling onto other pages till I was eventually a book... Maybe you know my pain... Maybe you know my joys as well... Maybe you can read it on my face and in my actions... And maybe you just don't act... But for this one time... I bid you to see more than the black against the white of my page... I'm trying to see yours as well... Trying to understand what your author was thinking when they started writing you... Trying to understand why some would become shapes made of paper like oragami once molded... While others where toiled over endlessly to become drawings that displayed life... Why even some of us where just words upon words upon more words... I wonder what the answers to these questions could be... But that's a life we all live anyway isn't it? We don't usually choose... Sentences being cancelled... Being rewritten... Edited... Never perfect till the very end... Whether it's to be published and laid bare for all to see an immortalized piece of work highlighting your deeds... Or a rough draft put aside to help a different piece to move along... These are our stories of who we become... It's the story of my life...

[wintermae]

Sometimes I call you an asshole in my head. It sounds angry, like I'm ready to hurl some sort of accusation at you. Sometimes I do, actually.

You asshole. You made me fall in love with you. Everything I'd worked so damn hard to have that kept people out of the places that hurt the most since losing him. Since leaving him. You decimated them. Fuck. Fuck I hate that.

Except I don't. I don't hate it. You're not an asshole. Smart ass, yes. Obviously. But not asshole. And I say 'made'. Well that's an exaggeration too, isn't it. You didn't make me do anything.

Yet I didn't really ever have a choice in it. Just like you.

I've said it and I know you've heard me. But you haven't really called me out on it yet either.

Why? I almost ask some days. But then I wonder if I'm ready for whatever answer you'll give me.

I am yours though. Have been for a while.

I'm yours. And Isaac's. You're Mine. And Deidre's. Time is funny that way.

I really do love you. You stubborn wolf.

[wintermae]

☱

Arden and Emmy are absolutely adorable. It’s always a bright day when I get to stop by Tom’s and see them—Tom too. Jasmine’s taken a shine to her new friend as well. It’s all just so brilliantly normal. And normal is...downright blissful.

**** **** ****

She’s a Guardian. A GUARDIAN. I don’t know if I just wasn’t paying attention or what but she is one. Part of me still doesn’t know how to feel about that. But knowing that about her makes things a bit easier in a way. I’m not alone. I'm not alone and she's not like the others. When Arden looks at me she doesn't see abomination. She doesn't see some sort of...Ethereal Junior Agent. She sees me as a person. More than that we can trust each other. I just wish that I could help her somehow.

I know she knows more than she's letting on.

...But then again so am I.

[wintermae]

Þ✍♓

Þ for a frantic text message from my muse

[Text: Dyson] Okay before you get home I need you to remember that you like me at least a little and believe me when I say that it was only a tiny fire.

✍ for a diary entry about your muse

He talks in his sleep sometimes. Mostly things that I can’t quite make out. But other times he says my name as clears as if he’s awake. Deidre’s as well. Part of me feels like I need to just come clean about exactly who I am. Not that he hasn’t already figured it out. He has to have—I’ve caught him looking at me with this expression on his face. Like he doesn’t know how to take my existence.

And then—And then he smiles.

He smiles and calls me something I can never pronounce properly in Gaelic and all want to talk to him about it just goes out the window.

Damn it.

[wintermae]

"Just friends my arse. I've seen the way you look at him."

I've been thinking about that a lot lately.

About Isaac.

About Moran.

It's all so muddled. I still love Isaac. I know that there will always be a part of my heart that's with him, that will always love him. But he deserves better. He deserves someone who won't constantly break his heart and every time I think about what I've put him through--He should hate me.

Then there's Sebastian. Granted it wasn't the most conventional of meetings considering he killed me. Something about him gives me hope. There are even goddamned butterflies when I see him. He makes me smile and I have found myself wanting to kiss him. Wanting to just relax with him. I can pretend that I'm normal for a bit. 

Does that mean I'm falling for him? The idea of even liking someone that isn't Isaac is so alien to me that I don't know what to do with it. How to feel about it. It doesn't feel right and yet...It does. I honestly don't know.

[wintermae]

I miss him.

The way he'd bury his nose in my hair when we'd go to sleep. How his eyes crinkled when he found something really amusing. All of it. The good and the bad. God it's become routine to dream of him. And I wonder if he dreams of me? Or are they all nightmares?

I miss him so much and there's really no one to blame but myself. All that sense of duty. Of the fact that I had an 'obligation' to protect angels and human alike...It was all for nothing.

Sometimes I walk by the TARDIS. I take out the key, unlock the door. And then I have to stop myself. Every time I almost go back inside I have to remind myself that would do us both more harm than good. That I've done more harm than good.

I wonder if he knows that I really will always love him.

[wintermae]

I work in the dead of night  Holy water cannot help you now Well maybe I am a crook Haven't you seen me sleepwalking?

If I should fall from grace with God Spare me your judgements and spare me your dreams Sleep my love while I come undone I'm in here

If this is redemption, why do I bother at all?