Drizzle

It's dark, and I wander around the streets.

It's raining, not too heavily, I can see it falling sideways in the beam of the streetlamps.

It's that time of year again, and the memories come back. I can't sleep. As usual. And the same song that played last time I started scribbling this crap is playing again now. Oh, the irony. :irony:

No shit. It's raining.

One thing I've noticed about Christchurch is that no matter where you walk you always come across half a dozen or so parks. Like, green parks, not the space-man kind. Maybe it's like that everywhere, I don't really remember. It's been awhile since I wandered around for no real reason in the middle of the night.

And I'm not even drunk.

I stumble across a pile of fireworks, used, discarded, on the grass. A shitload, in fact. And all spent, all empty, cargo unloaded. "Did the earth move for you too, baby?" You're all used up bitch. Amongst the burned carboard tubes are scattered some empty beer bottles. You kids had a good night, didn't you? Waxed your hard earned pocket-money at the Warehouse, whose bright-red profile is visible over some houses, proudly proclaiming 'where _everyone_ gets a bargain!!', as if a hundred bucks for a box of shitty fireworks is a bargain, huh? How is that a "low, LOW!" price, I ask you, you bastard?. So you kids burned your cash on this shit, got tipsy on a few watery beers and watched the pretty colours, eh? A real trippy night, that musta been. You were so impressed that you forgot to clean up after yourselves. You should start a club with my flatmates.

I no longer see pretty colours. All I see is grey. Partly because I'm miserable and angsty, but mainly because it's 12:34am and I'm wearing sunglasses.

It's kinda stopped raining, but it doesn't make any difference to me. My coat's wet, but I don't feel it. It's made of wool, which kinda makes me feel like a sheep.
Huh, I black sheep. I laugh at myself when I start to sound like this...

No I'm not fifteen, and no, my parents aren't getting divorced. I don't even remember what being fifteen felt like, and my parent divorced when I was three so I don't remember that either.

No, I'm a day off twenty and have no idea what I'm doing with my own insignificant life that I treasure so much. I guess you all know the drill, so it doesn't matter.

This sentence was going to start with "What does matter is..." but my philosophies are a bit different nowadays. None of it really matters, not in a world-changing sense, or even in a local sense. You can't help people, really, though of course we all try. All you can do is live your own life, and if that means wandering around in the rain [img]graemlins/storm.gif[/img] then do that, and say that you were doing it before it was cool.

As usual, this thread has no purpose. It's not really role-playing, I guess, but I figured that this board was really just a vehicle for all of us to talk some shit where 'the cool kids' wouldn't hear it. And I don't think that we talk enough shit anymore.

:shitty emoticon:

Guess I'll go to bed. In twenty days I'll come back and see if anybody's noticed this.

It took a year and a half, but I noticed!

I read it too. It's interesting. And I think this kind of writing does suit this place.

(Why did we never have a writing-club forum?)

I wonder if Frost actually came back to check for replies. Please post a note if you stop by...