08-29-2020, 02:07 AM
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; line-height: 150%; color: #494949; font-family: karla; font-size: 9pt; letter-spacing: 0.2px; word-spacing: 1px; margin-top: 10px;"]there's this promise of fall in the air.
and yet, he elijah doesn't think anything could feel as cold as he does.
his new life , his chance to start over? he was supposed to get a second chance. a second chance at life, at happiness, and love? but somehow, wherever he went trouble seemed to follow. he fucking killed someone, and although he thought he was helping, was eddie really going to believe that? eddie and elijah considered each other best friends sure— best friends in the sense they could do stupid shit in the company of each other without any judgement, in fact they encouraged each other— but both harbored similar qualities that was worth trusting; and at heart, both were businessmen. and love? hah.
joey was a stoic and heartless slut. she took advantage, and played on his emotions and when he makes a mistake ? she pulls the rug beneath him. settles for some boring ass white man with mediocre charms that just so happens to be one of eddie's many siblings. the bastard doesn't think so— all stoic and empty and boring— but elijah could see right through him. he doesn't love her. he is just using her. he wants someone beautiful on his arm. . . someone who could boost his appearance to the world who looks in on him. given the chance he'd find someone better, he'd leave joey. but of course, would she see that? no. she's just as shallow as he is. and as much as he resented william, he could almost say he resented her more; she wasn't anything that he'd expected her to be, and so he's heartbroken. again.
in new york, one could easily get lost into the streets; shed themselves of the gritty shit and move on, but it wasn't so easy with her, as she's everywhere. not only that, but their fall-out makes him paranoid. what if she tells someone? he doesn't hesitate, or feel bad about, reminding her what would happen if she does— gets some satisfaction, even, of seeing the brief rise of panic rise on her features— and it may be cruel, but in some twisted sense, he's gotten her attention, if for only a moment. he doesn't even know why he still needs it even then.
since the discovery , he hasn't gotten much sleep.
it's why he sits on the balcony, his legs hanging loosely between bars, the temperature barely bothering him due to his body being warmed by the alcohol he's already consumed. to himself , he sings quietly. but to those who might pass, he's singing incoherently, a blubbering sound of nothing leaving his lips. maybe it's a club song, maybe it's a song his mama used to blare in the kitchen. he doesn't know anymore. and he barely notices the sound of footsteps approaching.
and yet, he elijah doesn't think anything could feel as cold as he does.
his new life , his chance to start over? he was supposed to get a second chance. a second chance at life, at happiness, and love? but somehow, wherever he went trouble seemed to follow. he fucking killed someone, and although he thought he was helping, was eddie really going to believe that? eddie and elijah considered each other best friends sure— best friends in the sense they could do stupid shit in the company of each other without any judgement, in fact they encouraged each other— but both harbored similar qualities that was worth trusting; and at heart, both were businessmen. and love? hah.
joey was a stoic and heartless slut. she took advantage, and played on his emotions and when he makes a mistake ? she pulls the rug beneath him. settles for some boring ass white man with mediocre charms that just so happens to be one of eddie's many siblings. the bastard doesn't think so— all stoic and empty and boring— but elijah could see right through him. he doesn't love her. he is just using her. he wants someone beautiful on his arm. . . someone who could boost his appearance to the world who looks in on him. given the chance he'd find someone better, he'd leave joey. but of course, would she see that? no. she's just as shallow as he is. and as much as he resented william, he could almost say he resented her more; she wasn't anything that he'd expected her to be, and so he's heartbroken. again.
in new york, one could easily get lost into the streets; shed themselves of the gritty shit and move on, but it wasn't so easy with her, as she's everywhere. not only that, but their fall-out makes him paranoid. what if she tells someone? he doesn't hesitate, or feel bad about, reminding her what would happen if she does— gets some satisfaction, even, of seeing the brief rise of panic rise on her features— and it may be cruel, but in some twisted sense, he's gotten her attention, if for only a moment. he doesn't even know why he still needs it even then.
since the discovery , he hasn't gotten much sleep.
it's why he sits on the balcony, his legs hanging loosely between bars, the temperature barely bothering him due to his body being warmed by the alcohol he's already consumed. to himself , he sings quietly. but to those who might pass, he's singing incoherently, a blubbering sound of nothing leaving his lips. maybe it's a club song, maybe it's a song his mama used to blare in the kitchen. he doesn't know anymore. and he barely notices the sound of footsteps approaching.
[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€