expensive mistakes — notepad
#81
Crows point coming to general bookstores some frickin day


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#82
[align=center][align=center][div style="0px; width:450px; height:auto; text-align: justify; font-size: 9pt; line-height:13px;"]Slam the door shut. Turn to your bed, covering your face with a pillow as you try and scream out every ounce of anger, annoyance, and general feelings of what the hell.

A soft mrrp distracts you, and you push your head out of the pillow, turning to glare at your fangy companion. The black cat with the vampire-esque fangs that you've decided to name Mister Midnight stares at you with what looks to be annoyance. Not like he knows anything, he's just a cat, and he's sitting on your calculus homework as though his disapproving stare will affect anything you're feeling.

"It's stupid. I want to go with him, why wouldn't I say yes to him?" Pursing your lips as you reach out a hand to stroke the top of Mister Midnight's head, you sigh. "But no, I'm failing history and so I'm stuck in my tower for the rest of my life." You still remember the look in his eyes as you'd explained how you were already in hot water with your parents. He didn't believe you, and you're gonna probably get a text from him soon.

"It's not like we were gonna do anything stupid, just.. hang out." You mutter to the ceiling. "He's a nice guy... he's always nice to me.. why do they have to just.. ruin this?!"

You sigh, booping the top of Mister Midnight's nose softly. "If you were in charge, you would let me go out with him tonight, wouldn't you?" Leaning back, you almost miss the response that you didn't expect.

"No, Helena. He's got a stupid face, and he's failing algebra." You blink in surprise.


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#83
mister midnight is me



when this r e p e t i t i o n ends behind the window shades, a semi-conscious sorrow sleeping in the bed I've made  —— that most unrestful bed, that most original of sins, and you'll say that's what I get when I let ambition win again. I'd hate to let you [sub]down,[/sub] so I'll let the waters [sup]rise[/sup] and drown my dull reflection in the naïve expectation in your eyes. back in a cast bit-part, back when I felt most free, I had a butcher's / heart and no-one thought they knew me         .        .        .        .        .         .          [ ★ ]


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