Post by thorn on Apr 8, 2008 15:08:54 GMT -5
 Go home and get stoned She hated being cold. She hated it more when she was cold and there was snow. So she had every right to be happy the seasons were changing. She knew she wouldn’t be happy if she were walking down the rough stony road she was on now if it was swamped in snowdrifts considering what she was wearing. Bright yellow converse patterned with ladybirds, black drainpipes and a scarlet red robolove tank-top were defiantly not suitable for the snow. And she should know she’d walked through the snow in these before and she distinctly remembered her feet going numb and stinging when the blood began to flow and feeling came back. But there wasn’t snow just the not hot, but warm, rays of the sun beating down on her and the light chill of the breeze that tugged at stray stands of crimson hair, which was currently shot through with two electric blue streaks. The weather didn’t usually bother her it was just she didn’t have much to think about. Okay so that wasn’t true she had plenty to think about she just really didn’t want to dwell at the moment on things she could not alter and were simply depressing so she was distracting herself with thinking about the weather of all things. And besides her IPod, the usual source of her distraction had died about a mile back and until she could get it charged in God knows where she was going to have to use her thoughts for entertainment. This was not a cheering idea. And it didn’t make her mood much better as the travel bag slung over her head kept cutting into the straps of the adorable (in her opinion) robolove top, and therefore into her shoulder, with its cute little motif of the robot in the blender. The phrase above and below it helping to explain ’Warning blenders kill’, yes it was a favourite of hers and beginning to get to small now the product of too many turns in the washing machine making it shrink. Also the fact that every now and then she’d manage to stand on either a larger or sharper piece of rock that she could feel digging through the sole of her shoe was defiantly not helping. Of course it was her own fault she was in this predicament as it usually is. Cyn was originally from a wealthy family and had grown up in England unfortunately with her family only one member of which she could stand. And then because her sister was... how to put it well when Cyn was younger they said it was because she was unconventional or some long words like that. Cyn didn’t really care she knew why Bryar had a girlfriend who she was pretty damn serious with. To the rest of her family that was weird and admonished and Bryar had been disowned. That was when it began. Cyn’s ‘rebellious’ stage as her family and her psychologist called it. She liked blaming the psychologist they’d never liked her after she threw a childish and staged temper tantrum where she threw things round the office. Though it hadn’t been easy to talk her way out of the label ‘pyromaniac’ she was pretty sure she still hadn’t. But really how are you meant to simply talk your way out of burning your school’s gym down. Who likes gym anyways? Cyn of course said accident whereas the school blamed her they just didn’t have proof and it helped that her father was an expensive and incredibly talented lawyer. He smoothing that issue over though still hadn’t made her like him. The incident had simply resulted in more sessions with the shrink this time with her parents as well which of course was fun when he insinuated she was like this because her father was well absent from home a lot, her mother liked alcohol to much, and her sister was a ‘successful’ model. Cyn wouldn’t have put it like that. No way. Her father never came home because it was much easier to look after his many mistresses without her mother being around. Speaking of mother she did not have a ‘problem’ she was just a fricking alcoholic whose first beverage waking up was a glass of whiskey. Oh and her sister the successful model just look at your page three spread and she’ll most likely be featuring on it. She hadn’t cared for the sessions and she just let her behaviour get steadily worse till she’d done the inevitable and now had two almost symmetrical scars on each wrist. And it was finally then when she was lying in a hospital bed that they decided to ask what she wanted. She of course said she wanted to go live with Bryar the oldest of the three sisters and the most like Cyn. And after several heated discussions they’d eventually caved and paid for a flight over to America where Bryar and Eevi had moved to. And she’d been happy living with them for several months. So how did she end up hitchhiking her way up here? Well Eevi and Bryar travelled anyways it came with Eevi’s job they had to move a lot. Cyn hadn’t minded this or the fact they’d practically no money to live off. She’d enjoyed it and still did, just not when there was a blasted bit off rock in her shoe which kept digging into her foot causing her to limp. But things change. They’d separated and Cyn had hitch hiked and walked her way here. Where here was, wasn’t particularly clear but she was nearing a town, the gas station she’d just stopped at informed her of that. So the beginnings of that age old plan reformed. Get to a town find a hotel or a cheap apartment to stay in then food. Well she didn’t count the chocolate bar she’d just bought as an actual meal but it would do for a small sugar rush. And now sitting down by the side of the road opposite the station she pulled off her shoe and yanked the stone out before putting it back on and finishing off what was left of the chocolate before rising again to her feet and starting off down the road to town. And an hour or so later with the final rays of the sun vanishing into dusk she'd got there of course. Now what was that plan again. Well she could cope without food for a while but finding somewhere to sleep was definatly beginning to look attractive. The break up is worth the make up sex you're givin me Lets hash it out Cause your bitchin and your yellin don't mean anything Don't count me out I can handle all the baggage that you're carrying You wear me out But it's all right now Let's go home and get stoned |
