Post by Amber Craze James on Jan 10, 2013 20:38:37 GMT -5
changed up her pace since her daddy left her--*
credit; P.O.D. - Youth of the Nation for the lyrics.
notes; she's so depressed; sorry the post is so long. ;n;
muse; amazing.
tag; James
listening to; P.O.D. - Youth of the Nation
outfit; here.
How does something that is so beautiful be so tragic and sad at the same time? Imagine that you're walking down the street. The cars racing by, the smell of fresh-baked bread from a nearby bakery, and it just finished raining so everything seemed so beautiful. Imagine that everyone stopped what they were doing to smile at you as you walked by. Imagine that this was at sunset; able to see the stars, but with the orange glow across the rooftops. Imagine how beautiful, how peaceful, how amazing that would be. Now imagine that you're suffocating while this is happening. You're just walking down the street but you can't breath. So beautiful, so calm, but so tragic and sad and horrible at the same time. Imagine that right then and there, a bandage got pulled off your wrist and you bled out on that beautiful street. Imagine how beautifully tragic that would be. That was what Amber felt like. She was so exposed and torn in this place of beauty... the street that headed out of camp, the sunset that loomed in the horizon as she leaned against the edge of the arch, her face emotionless as she breathed heavily, the tip of her nose red from the cold. And those tear tracks traced her face like they always did.
She couldn't explain why she wanted to leave camp, but she did. She just couldn't be stared at those faces that knew something was wrong. But what was she thinking? She was only fifteen. Not even driving age. She was sure that if she wanted too, she could get Jamian to drive her or something. But that was why she wanted to leave in the first place. She wanted to get away from all the judge mental glances and the pain of staring into the face of someone you used to trust and say that you're fine. Lie to them about a huge piece of yourself and remain apathetic about it while your insides are screaming to cry and run but you shut it like a cork on a bottle because no one can ever know. No one can know the questions. No one could ever know the questions that she struggled with. Why had her dad left her? Sure, he didn't like her mom, but you don't just walk out on someone, child or spouse, who you "love" like that; you power through to do what's best for them. The worst part was that he probably was sitting a million miles away, unknowing of the pain in his daughters heart. Amber would have to leave soon, though. She would have to go with or without Skye, because as the days drew nearer, she still had no answer. The blonde tried to convince herself that she was being stupid and Skye just had her own responsibilities, but she couldn't. Amber couldn't help but take Skye's postponing of the answer as not wanting to be around Amber.
And then there was Ilo. The very same Ilo who had dropped off the face of the earth after they had agreed to go out with each other. She took that as sign two that she was driving everyone away. She didn't know what she was doing, but she was doing something. The funny thing was that it seemed okay, though; she didn't care that her best friend and her possible boyfriend/romantic interest had decided not to answer her. She didn't want anyone else in her world, or anything else to bug her. She knew that that was stupid, considering she was only staring out into the road that led out of camp because James told her to meet him there in a totally non-romantic, non-creepy way. It was, as he put it, "a way to cheer up the cheeriest person in camp, which happens to be sad." but Amber knew that, really, he was just trying to cheer her up because Cinder was distressed at Amber being sad. Sure, she and James were friends, but they weren't that close. Unless he was planning to drive her out of camp and kill her. That would not be good. But then again, Cinder trusted him, so she... well... she was having trouble trusting anyone at the moment, but she trusted him enough to get into the car. Assuming that he was bringing a car. And assuming they were going out of camp.
Not knowing what he was planning, she had on a simple but sort of dressy outfit. A grey tank top with a brown blouse with silver sequins thrown over it, dark jeans, brown boots and grey bag. It was freezing outside, the pale blue sky showing it's first signs of snow all winter, but she almost never got cold. She had lived for about four years in a house with no heating, and it got really cold at night. It always did... so, after that, she had never been easy to get cold again. If it started snowing, then she have probably gotten a coat just so that she wouldn't get wet from it melting on her skin. But that really didn't matter, because James should be there soon. She had arrived several minutes early just to make sure that she wanted to do this - spending time with someone who you don't exactly like, who will try to cheer you up but not have any effect on your happiness? This sounded more like torture. But even at the thought of that, tears never came. Someone was trying to cheer her up. It didn't matter who, it didn't matter why, but for some reason that thought just seemed beautiful too her. Maybe he was just doing it for Cinder, but Cinder... Cinder had to care at least a little bit for her to be distressed at the blonde's sadness. They had most certainly grown apart for a while, but something told Amber that Cinder would always be there. So would Skye; she just couldn't bare to impose her presence on anyone while she was in that state of mind, so she hid and listened to the wind that seemed to whisper her faults. Maybe the wind was really Pandora. Maybe Pandora hated her deep down, and when she died her thoughts went into the wind.
Amber wouldn't be surprised at all.
*--too bad he never told her she deserved much better
credit; P.O.D. - Youth of the Nation for the lyrics.
notes; she's so depressed; sorry the post is so long. ;n;
muse; amazing.
tag; James
listening to; P.O.D. - Youth of the Nation
outfit; here.
