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 ; basically, he's a young, post-graduate model who's come back to toronto for a reunion

24.2.11 at 6:16 PM

”Yes sir, how can I help you?”

”Can I have another ginger ale, please?”

A lean young man sat comfortably in his seat, letting his husky English drawl hang in the air. The flight attendant nodded and took his empty can and headed to fulfil the task she was given. He smiled a devilish grin, content to mask his anticipation; his cold blue eyes scanned the scene outside the small airplane window, overlooking the waking city of Toronto. The sun was only just rising, slowly spreading its golden rays across the already-busy streets and buildings like arms opening for a most glorious hug. He always wanted to watch the sun gradually rise higher into the sky (because he was the type of person who only had time to glance out of windows twice: to see the sun dipped behind the horizon and then suddenly be covering that part of the earth) and he thought this might be his opportunity to, but his eyes were drawn away from the view as his lovely attendant brought some more drink to fill his plastic cup and ease the nerves in his stomach.

The pilot’s voice came on the speakers, giving the usual information about the city before they stopped in (time, date, temperature) and the seatbelt lights came on. The boy yawned and ran a hand through his perfectly messy, don’t-really-give-a-fuck hair. The plane landed at the Pearson International Airport within minutes and there was that warmth in the air felt when a bunch of people just wake up. It had been a long flight from Heathrow, so it was clear everyone got plenty of sleep. Eventually the usual plane procedure went on as people picked up their carry-on items and awkwardly shuffled down the narrow aisles to get off the plane without losing anything. He double-checked his belongings were all on him before stepping into a misshapen line and walking down the runway to the arrival terminal.
The signs were comforting: Welcome to Canada.

Finally, his taxi came. He had been perched by the window, looking out at the cars coming in and leaving like a hawk stalking prey. It was one of those moments where you can’t leave to go anywhere because the luck of the gods would end up making the cab come at that exact time when it hadn’t come the hour or so you spent waiting, you know? The man, South-Asian by the looks of it, helped put the bags into the boot of the vehicle before driving the young man to the Mariott hotel. It was difficult for the English kid to stay awake; his driver wasn’t much of a conversationalist.

At the hotel, Silas checked into his room and got all his stuff up (eventually). Now, he had time to loiter. Where would he go first? He wasn’t quite too sure. Of course, he’d really fancy a nice espresso and a smoke, so no matter what he’d have to slip on his light trench coat again and go for a nice walk.

He took his time (it was hours before the actual reunion) and tried to focus on the scenery he probably missed out on as a teen. He was always too reckless to care for simple things and preferred to speed past them in his friends’ cars on the way to the nearest party. Man; that was the life. Then again, not having to look for work was good, too. He got to go to sophisticated after-parties, walk on runways for designer brands and spend some time with the gorgeous girls in his photo shoots. In a way, he was probably living the dream. Silas was a very fortunate lad.

He stepped the heel of his sneakers on the pavement, crushing the embers of his cigarette, before stepping into the Starbucks. It wasn’t too busy, but still oddly filled for such a time. It was too early for lazy university kids and too late for busy commuters. Nevertheless, he got in line and waited the ten minutes to the front. ”An espresso, please.” He pushed a fiver and some change across the counter and moved to the receiving part of the stand. Once his hands clasped over the tiny, warm cup, he stepped out of the way and sat himself in a seat nearby.

And, naturally as ever, this was the point he reminisced. Memories of people resurfaced from the depths of his mind and instead of thinking about Miranda Kerr’s number burning in his contacts list, he found himself remembering the names of the kids he used to see every single day, and probably neglected. Hell, he didn’t really know if those kids ever liked him (mostly because he didn’t care about anything) since they never bothered to keep in contact, aside from the occasional event invitations most likely sent to him as a result of the person sending to “all friends” (and I put superficial quotations around that to denote the fact that majority of contacts a person has aren’t even their friends, and Mark Zuckerberg should probably consider just renaming the section, “People This Person Knows” because it was less misleading).