A revolutionary is someone who religiously believes in non-existence of barriers. And I’m all but someone who is blind to the walls for all I do is paints dreams over the them, turning them into my canvas for imagination.
Maybe I’m broken part of the revolution generation, maybe I’m the idea of what a flightless bird looks like for I sure would not fly even with the cage down. A revolutionary I shall never be, but I do know how to feel like one with my eyes closed. I can paint myself into anything I want, a flygirl, a pirate, a war hero and even a renegade, an insurgent.
So let the mind weep for the deadness of the brave rebellious soul; the heart shall live in stories, the fabrication of beautiful lies, that brings a whole new world alive creating a sky and land that needs no more anarchy.
I remember, when I saw last episode of Lost I wanted to throw my laptop out of the window. Then I saw Dexter’s last episode and I wanted to throw my laptop out of the window. And then the whole HIMYM’s Ted’s wife dying and him being with Robin made me wonder, why I still haven’t thrown my laptop out of window.
But, today after finishing last episode of PLL I wanted to throw myself out of the window, but I am very well aware of the fact that I’m not wolverine.
Oh well! farewell to the liars who were once friends…
P.S I hope stranger things doesn’t do this to my pretty little heart.😋
Dearest Lady Julia,
Now I have multiple options but I shall address you with the title Ellen used to tease you. I have met a handful of fictional characters, but my darling Davie Balfour none has ever enchanted me like you did.
Is it strange for me to fall in love with your manipulation and selfishness of taking, though Ellen did a fine job at that by teaching you more about giving? But I wonder whether your calling out to Maddie on the bridge and making her fire that shot was giving or taking? I wonder if you gave her chance to save herself from witnessing the cruelty about to fall on her best friend or if you took her soul by forcing her to end your horror.
O Julie! I wonder if Ellen ever found out what happened to you. I keep imagining her reaction to the death of the girl she had the crazy Sherlock Holmes kind of summer with. I wonder if Maddie and Ellen ever came face to face and if they did what they talked about. I picture them sitting over a cup of tea talking about how stubbornly mysterious you were. Jamie sitting next to them looking at them and missing his favorite sister.
I don’t know if I’ll ever get more of you from the author but boy am I glad for the prequel. I try to picture you as Therese Belivet only more confident, cunning, gorgeous and mysterious.
I’ll always miss you Julie.
Ended up writing a short story on a woman suffering from mental illness…Guess 2am brings out the dead writer in me…
Don’t waste your time staring at me, she said
I’ve got nothing better to do, he said
What do you see, she demanded
Well you certainly aren’t a piece of art, he grinned
Then why don’t you find yourself a museum, she growled
I did only it has the damaged goods on display, he raised his eyebrow
Why don’t you walk away then, she enquired
In that rusted piece of you lies a magnet field, he complained
The sun is making you spit nonsense, she muttered
Your eyes I’m talking about your eyes, he pointed
What about them, she questioned
Even behind a dead soul they shine so bright & blinding, he smiled
What is your name, she smiled back
Albert, he smoothen his tie
Well Albert you’re doomed now for them eyes are cursed, she laughed
How so, he frowned
Anyone who has ever fallen in them has never recovered from the fall, she whispered
How many of them, he wondered
Two so far, she cried
What happened to them, he swallowed a lump
The fall broke them enough to walk away and never come back, she turned away
Might I try the jump, he cleared his throat
My poor Albert you’ve already taken the fall now wait till it hits you, she winked
I won’t walk away, he announced
So said the father & the son, she choked