moosings (private, POK)
(( yeah, you know whenever i assert that i will no longer change my icons... you can bet i'm going to change my icons. dammit, why am i so fickle? anyway, yeah. it's 1 AM and i'm going to see drunk pirates in 12 hours, and i'm smelly and tired and hot as FUCK, so i'm babbling in bobby's journal only i'm being all ooc now. so bobby will babble too, despite being right in the fucking middle of a huge sl with no access at all to a computer. he's just thinking this, okay? okay. yeah, he really needs to stop being a pussy and make out with pyro. ))
I died 73 times today. And even knowing that I should hate them, him, I can't. I can't feel anything. Everyone else has taken permanent residence in my mind and I'm the one standing out in the cold. I hate it, I hate everything except them. I can't even hate him even though I know he's evil and we're enemies and he's stubborn and beautiful... I hate myself for not being able to hate anything, I hate myself for not existing anymore.
I'm so tired of being here. I'm tired, more tired than the time I got lost on a snowboarding trip and nearly froze to death. You don't just drift off to sleep in hypothermia like people think. Your extremities--fingers, toes, nose--become brittle and fall off. Your skin turns blue then black and your muscles begin to die. The blood in your body and especially your brain crystallizes and you slip into complete insanity during your last waking moments.
In one day I've been burned to death, frozen to death, electrocuted and crushed and had my neck broken and my ribs collapsed and my heart stopped and my brain turned to powder inside my head. I remember things that never happened to me, and I can't even be sure of who I am anymore.
And still he's always so warm.
...And I get so cold.
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