Sometimes, I might cry...
folder
Original - Misc › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
938
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
938
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Snowflake Sorrow
Faith: Thanks! I’m having a lot of fun writing it. I’m rather unpredictable as to when I post my updates so check back frequently. This story’s probably only gonna be…. mm… five or six chapters long, and I don’t know whether or not it’ll end happily. Since its kinda based off the events of my real life, and things haven’t been going smoothly lately, it might end happily, it might end sadly. Yay! You’re my first reviewer!
Cory: Hiya! Arigatou for reviewing my story… ^-^ thanks for helping out with everything…. And I just gotta say that I hope your heart really is telling the truth. Odd how the story keeps changing as my life progresses, ne?
Charlotte Marigold Ives Thanks for writing a review! I haven’t had enough time to write… and things have really been changing between me and the girl I was writing about. So I’m just gonna finish this the way I think it should be finished instead of the way life is finishing it for me. Thanks for saying I write really well… *laughs* I think that this is kinda the same story for a bunch of people who try to get together in gay relationships… probably even in straight ones. Oh, and I tried to e-mail you, but the e-mail address didn’t seem to work or something, soo… *shrugs* I haven’t tried recently, though…
fireinu Hi! Thanks for reviewing my story! I definetly plan to continue it. But its always nice to get reviews knowing that people are still interested in reading it… ^-^
A/N: sorry this chapter’s so short. I’m kinda short on time and I wanted to post a new chapter. I’ll try to continue writing as much as possible, since… I kinda wanna ………… well, write, I guess. It helps get out frustrations…. And there’s gonna be eventual character death, angst, and some other problems in this story unless a miracle occurs in real life. Although if people want it to end happily, I can do that, too, just review and say that you want it to end happily, otherwise it’ll end depressed, k?
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
I slowly walked to the door, then realized I’d left another of my bags in her bedroom. I let her know as much, and she went to answer the door while I grabbed my bag. What I hadn’t realized though, is that when I bent over to grab my bag, a small note that I’d written slipped out of my pocket.
I ran back, because my mother is never patient and waved a bit sadly as we left.
“Is something wrong?” Her voice interrupted my sad thoughts.
“No, of course not. I’m just tired. That’s all.” I smiled, and made sure that it looked tired. It would just be purest hell if she ever knew the truth. The truth? What was there to know? All there was to know was my stupidity in falling in love with a straight girl, and hoping that there might be a chance at us being together. But even that would be enough to get my mom yelling.
The rest of the drive home was rather silent; I think Mom knew that I wasn’t exactly in a talkative mood. When she pulled up into the garage, I grabbed my bags and headed inside. Normally I never catch more sleep after I come home from a sleepover, because I’m not exactly one to sleep much anyways, but this time I barely bothered to pack away my stuff again before I crawled back into bed. I closed my bedroom door, pulled my blind, then went back and locked my bedroom door. Let Mom kill me for locking it. At least it’d give me something to be aggravated about, and anger is always easier to deal with than this cold, painful emptiness. I bit my lip, then crawled into bed. I knew that I wouldn’t be sleeping, but I just wanted to be away from everybody. And being tired is always an excuse that has worked on my mother. She knows that I get very little sleep at the sleepovers because we talk too much and stay up very late and I think she hates that we do that, but she can’t change much about it.
At first I just lay there, thinking. Thinking about everything I had wanted, had hoped for… everything I loved about her. Everything about her was hot. Most people wouldn’t think that about her, but I thought she was hot. Her hands were beautiful and she was very proud of them, with very good reason. Her fingers are perfectly formed and just the right combination of length and slenderness that didn’t make they look long and bony, but beautiful. Not at all like mine, which are rather chubby. She always took such care of her fingernails, and most of the time there was some form of polish on them. Her hair was such a soft, beautiful brown and she looked very hot when she had the red streaks coloured in. Her lips were very beautiful, too. I wanted to kiss her so badly sometimes. The curve of her breasts and hips, her legs, her ass... Hell, have I mentioned just how hot she is?
The thought that I’d never have any chance at being with her felt like a sharp spine piercing a little too close to my heart. As always, my quick reaction was to turn the pain into anger, and as usual, since there was no right getting mad at her, I got mad at myself.
I pushed the covers back and got my mp3 player. I switched it on and it started playing whatever random song I had it on last. I was still too agitated to even bother listening to the music much, but I quickly tried to calm myself down. Listen to the beat, just listen to the beat. When I finally got my racing thoughts back under control, I finally noticed the song. It was one of the songs that she had sung for me at the sleepover. Normally at night time, if there’s a song that she loves, she’ll sing it for me. Well this was one of those songs. I bit my lip softly, then started sucking on it, keeping it firmly pinned between my teeth. I let my eyes squeeze shut, and the pain struck again. This time I didn’t try to deny it. I couldn’t deny it.
The first tear slipped from beneath my eyelid, like the first crystalline snowflake falling sedately before the on-coming blizzard.
Cory: Hiya! Arigatou for reviewing my story… ^-^ thanks for helping out with everything…. And I just gotta say that I hope your heart really is telling the truth. Odd how the story keeps changing as my life progresses, ne?
Charlotte Marigold Ives Thanks for writing a review! I haven’t had enough time to write… and things have really been changing between me and the girl I was writing about. So I’m just gonna finish this the way I think it should be finished instead of the way life is finishing it for me. Thanks for saying I write really well… *laughs* I think that this is kinda the same story for a bunch of people who try to get together in gay relationships… probably even in straight ones. Oh, and I tried to e-mail you, but the e-mail address didn’t seem to work or something, soo… *shrugs* I haven’t tried recently, though…
fireinu Hi! Thanks for reviewing my story! I definetly plan to continue it. But its always nice to get reviews knowing that people are still interested in reading it… ^-^
A/N: sorry this chapter’s so short. I’m kinda short on time and I wanted to post a new chapter. I’ll try to continue writing as much as possible, since… I kinda wanna ………… well, write, I guess. It helps get out frustrations…. And there’s gonna be eventual character death, angst, and some other problems in this story unless a miracle occurs in real life. Although if people want it to end happily, I can do that, too, just review and say that you want it to end happily, otherwise it’ll end depressed, k?
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
I slowly walked to the door, then realized I’d left another of my bags in her bedroom. I let her know as much, and she went to answer the door while I grabbed my bag. What I hadn’t realized though, is that when I bent over to grab my bag, a small note that I’d written slipped out of my pocket.
I ran back, because my mother is never patient and waved a bit sadly as we left.
“Is something wrong?” Her voice interrupted my sad thoughts.
“No, of course not. I’m just tired. That’s all.” I smiled, and made sure that it looked tired. It would just be purest hell if she ever knew the truth. The truth? What was there to know? All there was to know was my stupidity in falling in love with a straight girl, and hoping that there might be a chance at us being together. But even that would be enough to get my mom yelling.
The rest of the drive home was rather silent; I think Mom knew that I wasn’t exactly in a talkative mood. When she pulled up into the garage, I grabbed my bags and headed inside. Normally I never catch more sleep after I come home from a sleepover, because I’m not exactly one to sleep much anyways, but this time I barely bothered to pack away my stuff again before I crawled back into bed. I closed my bedroom door, pulled my blind, then went back and locked my bedroom door. Let Mom kill me for locking it. At least it’d give me something to be aggravated about, and anger is always easier to deal with than this cold, painful emptiness. I bit my lip, then crawled into bed. I knew that I wouldn’t be sleeping, but I just wanted to be away from everybody. And being tired is always an excuse that has worked on my mother. She knows that I get very little sleep at the sleepovers because we talk too much and stay up very late and I think she hates that we do that, but she can’t change much about it.
At first I just lay there, thinking. Thinking about everything I had wanted, had hoped for… everything I loved about her. Everything about her was hot. Most people wouldn’t think that about her, but I thought she was hot. Her hands were beautiful and she was very proud of them, with very good reason. Her fingers are perfectly formed and just the right combination of length and slenderness that didn’t make they look long and bony, but beautiful. Not at all like mine, which are rather chubby. She always took such care of her fingernails, and most of the time there was some form of polish on them. Her hair was such a soft, beautiful brown and she looked very hot when she had the red streaks coloured in. Her lips were very beautiful, too. I wanted to kiss her so badly sometimes. The curve of her breasts and hips, her legs, her ass... Hell, have I mentioned just how hot she is?
The thought that I’d never have any chance at being with her felt like a sharp spine piercing a little too close to my heart. As always, my quick reaction was to turn the pain into anger, and as usual, since there was no right getting mad at her, I got mad at myself.
I pushed the covers back and got my mp3 player. I switched it on and it started playing whatever random song I had it on last. I was still too agitated to even bother listening to the music much, but I quickly tried to calm myself down. Listen to the beat, just listen to the beat. When I finally got my racing thoughts back under control, I finally noticed the song. It was one of the songs that she had sung for me at the sleepover. Normally at night time, if there’s a song that she loves, she’ll sing it for me. Well this was one of those songs. I bit my lip softly, then started sucking on it, keeping it firmly pinned between my teeth. I let my eyes squeeze shut, and the pain struck again. This time I didn’t try to deny it. I couldn’t deny it.
The first tear slipped from beneath my eyelid, like the first crystalline snowflake falling sedately before the on-coming blizzard.