11-22-2018, 03:29 AM
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]He’s used to the colder temperatures; he’d been immersed in it all of his life. Big jackets and thick sweaters were practically all that he owned in his closet, collected in the line of temporary homes strewn across dim memory like candy wrappers. He doesn’t like too look behind him, though. It caused him too much nostalgia, too much pain of what he’s left behind and instead, he looks ahead, using his infatuation with the lost instead of the living distract him from his shitty odds. He knows he’s lost, and he might continue to lose, but at least he has those goddamn ghouls.
It makes him anxious, but there are good habits that do. When his mind is stimulated about wondering from a life aside from his, he’s flying. His life isn’t much, after all, but lying wake of ‘used-to be’s’ and ‘what-if’s’ and that, too, makes him anxious. Not in a good way, though. But in the way where your chest aches and you’re lacking sleep going onto your second day. That could be the fear of demons, too, but that was besides the point. That’s kind of what happened when they were attracted to your presence. At least, in some way, he could confront that. With his past, he couldn’t. Shit like that, it was never that simple.
Though when temperatures fell, so did his mood. And despite being ’alone’ most of his life, never truly having those people or even that person, he doesn’t like to be. He was self-aware that being in the company pf his own thoughts could be a dangerous thing and so, he settles off to find someone, if nowhere in particular. As he moves along, surroundings become increasingly familiar until he lands at the door of an old building, far too stable not to be occupied.
He still remains cautious as he wraps his knuckles on the door. Despite the dangerous that could be lurking in this action, he’s nothing to lose but the bag on his shoulders, heavy with camera equipment rather than basic necessities to survival. Well to him? Those were his basic necessities.
It makes him anxious, but there are good habits that do. When his mind is stimulated about wondering from a life aside from his, he’s flying. His life isn’t much, after all, but lying wake of ‘used-to be’s’ and ‘what-if’s’ and that, too, makes him anxious. Not in a good way, though. But in the way where your chest aches and you’re lacking sleep going onto your second day. That could be the fear of demons, too, but that was besides the point. That’s kind of what happened when they were attracted to your presence. At least, in some way, he could confront that. With his past, he couldn’t. Shit like that, it was never that simple.
Though when temperatures fell, so did his mood. And despite being ’alone’ most of his life, never truly having those people or even that person, he doesn’t like to be. He was self-aware that being in the company pf his own thoughts could be a dangerous thing and so, he settles off to find someone, if nowhere in particular. As he moves along, surroundings become increasingly familiar until he lands at the door of an old building, far too stable not to be occupied.
He still remains cautious as he wraps his knuckles on the door. Despite the dangerous that could be lurking in this action, he’s nothing to lose but the bag on his shoulders, heavy with camera equipment rather than basic necessities to survival. Well to him? Those were his basic necessities.
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: center; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 1.4;"]I'M [I]HIGH AS A PRIVATE JET. â€â€