fate's a cruel mistress, girl

August 2009 November 2009 December 2009 January 2010 February 2010 March 2010 April 2010 May 2010 June 2010 July 2010 August 2010 September 2010 October 2010 November 2010 December 2010 January 2011 February 2011 March 2011 April 2011 May 2011 June 2011 August 2011 September 2011 October 2011 November 2011 January 2012

ericamay, 25may1995, single forever, devoted to peter pan

charlieissocoollike, doctor who, peter pan, you me at six, i see stars, andy oliver, devin oliver, ribbons, bows, drummers, bright colours, black and white contrast, people who smile a lot, laughing, beats, rhythms, being good at something, fireworks, writing, sketching, details, internet, photoshop, graphic design, coding, paint, crayons, paper, plain goldfish, the colours green and blue, prince phillip, princess aurora, tinkerbell, neverland, disneyland, disneyworld, crush the turtle, chemistry, storybook romance, arctic monkeys, britain, irish accents, every accent, scottish boys, skinny boys, pale boys, collarbones, freckles, gingers, photobooths, madina lake, billy idol, chocolate chip cookies, toffee, tiny marshmallows, hot cocoa, good memories, bloodrushes, laughing, singers, musicians, good headphones, punching the backs of car seats while listening to hardcore music in parking lots, hugs, kisses, winter, sweaters, hoodies, scarves, snowflakes, eyelashes, pretty eyes, dark hair, blonde hair, straight hair, wavy hair, offensive humours, people who don't take things seriously, heated debates, awkward moments, having private concerts home alone, red pandas, sharks, weasels, minxes, puppydogs, kittycats, post-it notes, caring reminders, strawberries, raspberries, william beckett, matt smith, karen gillan, david tennant, alex turner, joe brooks, noah and the whale, mumford and sons, los campesinos, french people, foreign languages, magic tricks, illusions, photographs, macros, doodling people i know, doodling people i wish i knew, pens that flow smoothly, shortbread cookies, tapping my feet, high fives, pokemon, laughing so hard i cry, being told people love me, winning, swedish fish, candies, neil patrick harris, nerimon, frezned, danisnotonfire, alexisonfire, billy talent, taking back sunday, john gomez, brian dales, alex pettyfer, logan lerman, tumblr, squareenix, old names, music class, good friends, late-night confessions, hanging out anywhere, eccentricity, spontaneous people, people with good memories, being unforgotten, lyricists, air heads, scissors, kicking, unicorns, rainbows, miss rainicorn, adventure time with finn and jake, flapjack, we came as romans, architects, joy division, two door cinema club, emma watson, george craig, emma watson and george craig together, the hoosiers, old photos, chalk drawing, graffiti, skateboarders, bmx riders, comic fanatics, superheros, guys, candy in tin cases, pastel stars, pointless wishing, sweet dreams, morning messages, text conversations, honey on toast, apple jelly, internet memes, advil, motion city soundtrack, vampire weekend, rolo tomassi, people named connor, people named sebastian, william, james, oliver, owen, eoin, alexander, joshua, andrew, aaron, christopher, jackson, hunter, and the like, the afterlife kids, downloading music, new downloads, video games, rpgs, shooter games, screaming, all forgotten, arcade fire, the asteroids galaxy tour, kick ass, aaron johnson, christopher mintz-plasse, devon werkshire, thick rimmed glasses, flickr, hipsters, cute kids, never growing up, beastie boys, we are the ocean, blink182, chameleon circuit, john green, hank green, paper towns, the perks of being a wallflower, lewis carroll, c.s. lewis, absolute brightness, the chronicles of narnia, lockets, trinkets, mimes, golden pocketwatches, nifty antiquities, halloween, sewing, the click five, parkway drive, cold war kids, obscurities, confessions, bookstores, candy stores, inside jokes, walls of wonder, being awesome, skins, kaya scodelario, luca pasqualino, jack o'connell, nicholas hoult, max hewer, hannah murray,

and a number of other things...

writing - 1

7.8.10 at 11:14 PM

So you want to hear my story, hm? Well, it’s not really a story that a father would tell his kid, but would make a great screenplay, probably. I mean, you probably want to know exactly how I’m always so happy and why I reject adulthood so much, right? Well, then, I guess I should tell you, but it definitely isn’t a walk in the park.

Once upon a time, there was a man named Leroy Collyn Cornelius, of Alsatian and Scottish descent. He was extremely average, though more on the intellectual side than the athletic side. His main strength was always literature, and he absolute fed off of it – really! If he was a car, that was his fuel. He could easily go a day without rest, or food, or drink, but a day without his writing or reading would be unthinkable! For that reason, he wasn’t too social, living his life strictly on the work he created. And they were marvellous.

He passed through high school like a ghost with his soul somewhere else, paying no mind to anyone but Alexander, off on another adventure to defeat the Evil Emperor, or Harry Potter, defeating the Dark Lord. Leroy graduated, was accepted into a good university, and only then did he really, truly tear away from his books and see the world in colour. Since he was taking classes he chose, it was obvious he didn’t have to fight to ignore it all around him. Lee went to parties, had fun, tried new things and made friends. It was a great time for him.

Anyways, it was through letting himself go that he met my mom. He was becoming a bit of a known name around the campus, because of his frequent attendances, so it wasn’t a surprise when he was filling his little red cup from the keg when a stunning blonde came up to him and struck conversation. Conversation that led to lips locking, a bed rocking, moans and hushes. It also eventually led to a pregnancy, a controversy, forced love and marriage.

That entire charade of romance was what brought the air to my lungs, and it was all a mistake? I was the only thing that held my parents together, and it hurt. Every single day of my life, as soon as I learned to talk, listen and walk, was spent listening to two people fight. Absolutely hated each other, they did, but were held by the very thin promise of their wedding vows, a tie made when my health was established, six months in. Every day I was reminded that everything was my fault. If I was never born, these two people wouldn’t have to live together in complete disarray, and everything would be happier, right?

Around the time of my sixth birthday, my parents had enough money to move out of their extremely shabby, two-room apartment, and into an actual townhouse in a real neighbourhood. It was nice to be allowed outside without having to worry of the terrors that lurked in elevator shafts and stairwells. I took in sunshine every day, leaving the house to go to the park as soon as I had finished breakfast, avoiding the crossfire of the raging wars.

It was on one of these little adventures that I stumbled on a pretty little girl, sitting at the front of her house. Unable to keep myself – she was the first kid I ran into since we had moved a week ago! – I instantly introduced myself. ”Hi, I’m Connor and I think we should go biking to the forest if you have a bike with you!” That was a basic introduction for me, and it worked like magic because she followed suit and started hanging out with me. In fact, you might know her as my absolute best friend in the world, Evangeline Saintsre. God, I care about that girl more than anyone else, and I hope she knows that.

Fast forward to the third grade – things got rough for me here. Fighting at home was worse and Dad started to hit Mom, then turn on me. Plates were smashed around, blood would spill the floor and shouts would cause the house to tremble. I’d lock myself – literally, I biked down to a Lowe’s and installed a locking system – in my room and just cry. Why couldn’t I have parents like everyone else’s, who would kiss away my wounds, read me bedtime stories and take me on trips to the zoo? I felt like a coward for crying, but I couldn’t help it – my heart hurt. I didn’t know who these people were, but they were my ”parents” and they ”loved” me, my teacher told me. Eventually, I stopped unlocking my door, completely, and disappeared through the windows, where they couldn’t track me. I didn’t care how many times I hurt myself by landing in the rosebush because I knew where I was going and it was better than “home”.

A funny thing it was, how someone who I had no clue existed just appeared to me one day, and since then I have never stopped thinking about her. She’s the friend I’ve always wanted, the truth that love exists, the exception to my fucked up life – the only exception to my fucked up life. You know something’s gone terribly downhill when you’re only eight and you have no doubt in your mind that you have a place of solace. I’d slip on my Spiderman pyjamas, fill my Toy Story backpack and turn out the lights, hoping God would make the fall from the second floor an easy one.

And he must have answered my call because I had just whispered Geronimo and hopped off the ledge when I didn’t feel the ground. I was dizzy and confused and wanted to throw up: there I was, hovering three feet from the ground. I just stood – well, insert synonym for “hovered” here – there and gaped from the ground. Hell, with my parents’ sorry excuse for impressions, the first thing I thought was, “Am I on weed?” Then, I fell, which wasn’t as hard as it would normally have been, and I ran off into the night, down the street, round a bend and to the side of Eve’s house, where I stood for literally five minutes, trying to fly my way to her window again, but it didn’t really work that way, and I had to struggle with climbing once again.

But I did that a lot: I’d spend more time at Evan’s house than my own. I’d always come in the night, bringing new things of mine that we’d keep in the very back of her closet. Most times, she’d scoot over in her bed and I’d roll my sleeping bag on top of her blanket. I remember how she smelt of L’Oreal Kids’ Tear-free 2-in-1 Shampoo, it was nice. Sometimes, though, we couldn’t risk her parents sneaking upstairs and I’d sleep under her bed. Sooner or later, there was no more to bring from my house to hers and I realized whatever had kept me in my old home was broken down. With the Saturday Funnies and a pencil, I scribbled a goodbye note, tears running down my face. It was somewhere then that I realized I didn’t want to grow up. I didn’t want to say goodbye. I didn’t want to risk everything I had for love. I didn’t want to end up disappointing someone so badly. I was shaking at the end of it, but I set the folded note upon my desk, unlocked my bedroom door and kissed the window’s ledge farewell for the final time before going back to Eve’s. I tried to say strong – why would I cry in front of a girl? – but when she asked me what was wrong, and I saw the concern in her eyes, my jaw quivered and I teared up again. “I don’t have a family anymore, Tinker...”

I built a treehouse during the day, in the woods where I got to know my best friend for the very first time, and at night I’d sneak back to her house and she’d offer me a sandwich, which would make up for the lunch I missed anyways. Eventually, the treehouse was sturdy and was a haven during the day. I called it Neverland, and it became so much more than just stolen wood and nails. Neverland was where I finally learned to fly.

I had been using a knife to craft a wooden sword from the leftovers of the magical treefort, and when it was done, I always played with it. I’d run around the little room like a swashbuckler and flail it around and sometimes I’d end up a little too close to the edge, but it never stopped me. I’d teach myself to jab at inanimate objects while yelling various fencing terms. As you could probably guess, I slipped off and nearly fell all the way down fifty feet, but started hovering again. Thinking about one thought that made my heart happy, I tried to control it. Hesitantly, I moved around; slowly forward, slowly back. I could easily get the hang of that! So I clapped my hands together and propelled myself upwards, then tried a nosedive and nearly died of fright when I didn’t come straight up. But as soon as I learned to fly, I found Tink and shared the news with her.