Going Under

Fuck the world. Do what you feel is right, and you have every right to love whomever you want.

I’m talking about the kind of indignity that changes you as a person, makes you withdraw, hide from the world because suddenly it’s turned into something frightening—full of dark corners and monsters.

It was decided. I was going to let Ryan Foster do me. I had no idea when it would happen, but it was inevitable. If he kept being this cute, it was inevitable.

I realized I needed to look at evil in an entirely new light. Most bad guys weren’t running around with eyes bugged out. Most bad guys didn’t come across freaky and frightening…Most bad guys were normal, everyday guys moving through life like anyone else… They were hard to spot and that’s what made them so good at being bad… They could get away with it, and they knew it.

It’s always described as melting, and I finally understood why. I thought my body was turning to liquid. I could feel my bones giving way, threatening to dissolve and leave me one big puddle of goo.

Ryan chuckled. “You’re going to be my trouble this year, aren't you?” he asked softly. Hell yeah I was.

I don't know. It's the world we live in, I guess. Some things will never be fair.

I thought if I stared a little longer I could see right inside his head, to his brain, and I don’t know why that turned me on so much. I wanted to witness the workings of his mind, the firing synapses, information traveling safely inside neurons to different parts of his body. A few made it to his hand, and they must have told him to keep holding mine because he didn’t let go.

People take advantage of good people. That's what I mean. So don't be a sucker.

How can he not have any friends? He's so cute.

Brooke, why don't we talk about you instead? You seem much more interesting." I started feeling frustrated. "I'm sure that's not true. Why are you so mysterious?

Ryan, when did you get a girlfriend?" his sister asked. "She's not my girlfriend, Kaylen," Ryan replied. "Go away.

The first contact of brush on canvas is a heady thing. I think it's the promise of something wonderful, beautiful. You can see the finished product in you mind's eye, nt it never turns out quite as you expect. It's always better, or at least that's been my experience. And that's where the headiness comes in. You think you know what to expect. You think you have it all planned out. But something in you always surprises you, and it's buzzing undercurrent that keeps you silently guessing until your picture is complete.

The first contact of brush on canvas is a heady thing. I think it’s the promise of something wonderful, beautiful. You can see the finished product in your mind’s eye, but it never turns out quite as you expect. It’s always better, or at least that’s been my experience. And that’s where the headiness comes in. You think you know what to expect. You think you have it all planned out. But something in you always surprises you, and it’s a buzzing undercurrent that keeps you silently guessing until your picture is complete.

Oil paints were wiser to the human condition, understanding our imperfections and giving us enough time to rework ourselves until we made things right.