Imbringingsexyback's Journals

Update

Hello.
If you haven't noticed I'm not keeping up on my 365 day project.
And I will explain why.
I have been entirely creative lately, just not in the same sense with the photos. All of my creativity and time has gone to writing. That's all I'm currently thinking about actually. I stay up late at night and write these thoughts.
So, that is why I've hardly been updating.
Consider it on hold rather for a while. However long though, I'm not entirely sure.
But I thought I should let it be known.

-cl

ps. expect some short story thing on here soon. - maybe.

Well.

Listening to: Death Cab For Cutie.

Mood: Unsure. But at ease and peace with absolutely everything.

If you're into Brad Pitt as much as I and adore his acting; I strongly suggest you go see The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.
It's such a spectacular movie.
Near about made me cry.

As for the 365 day project, consider it as post-poned for awhile until I "find myself" if that's what this really is.
I'm not too sure really.
Writing this thing of mine has got me tied down lately - but the creative flow for it came to a halt just as I needed an intro.
This thing I speak of you'll probably never get to read, unless you're a friend of mine.

But I just thought I had it be known that I may not be on for a while and how long, I'm not quite sure.
Although I may post some different writing on here.

That is all.
Hope all is well with everybody and anyone who read this.

Post script: Reading Anne Rice has got me talking quite fancy lately from normal.

I'll leave you with this though.

Tonight, Harmony Will Sing.

I wrote this a few days ago, with intentions of posting it on here right then after, but my laptop cord decided to break and what have you. But I got that all sorted out, sweet stuff.

The title doesn't really quite fit with the whole "story" (it's not really a story but whateves), but I kinda thought it fit with what was going on - hopefully that doesn't confuse >_>

I got the title idea from this

Tonight, the stars went out.

Tonight, harmony sung,

Sweet soft melodies,

Pouring through the stereo speakers.

The energy and desire in your eyes washed out.

The dreams we once had; demolished.

Which was something I wrote.

And what I wrote below is kind of depressing, most of what I write usually is - because that's just how I roll.

Btw, I never noticed how short this was >_>

Dear Fiona dearest,
As you know, I am horrible at writing letters - but you're an exception. I cannot begin to explain just how much I miss you; I miss your warm smiled, your soft hanrds in my own rough ones - but more than anything, I miss your presence around me. Even though I know that you're still probably around me in spirit; it's just not the same. I've started accepting the fact that this isn't just another one of your photography trips, and that you're never coming back. It's been about a year now since you've been gone. Sometimes when I wake up in the morning, I can still feel yor body beside my own. Other times I can hear you singing in the kitchen as you're brewing coffee.
Since you've been gone, I had about five relapses back to alcohol. But still, I cannot drown my sorrows. This is why I have decided to end my pain and suffering without you. I have devoted myself to you and detached myself from everyone else.
I need you to know that this will do more good than bad. And I know that you would want me to pull myself up - but I just can't take this anymoe - I need to be with you again. I also need you to know that this will cause me less pain then the pain of you not being here.
That is all I have left to say.
Not another word.
I love you my dearest, forever and always.
Yours truly, Rick.

Hold Me Close, Oh Tiny Dancer [ William Beckett oneshot - Part dos. ]

Niftyshit.

Part two.

Scorescorescore.

Not too sure if I like this as much. >.>

I shouldâ�™ve added Williamâ�™s p.o.v in this, but oh well â�“ I enjoy it.

Jessica

I sighed loudly and threw the pen across the room. Writing wasnâ�™t going to get me anywhere, but talking to him would. I ran my right hand through my hair, stood up and headed quietly to the door. Pressing my face against the door, nothing could be heard at all outside of it. I slowly turned the door-knob and stepped outside. From where I was standing I could see his figured placed perfectly on the sofa in the living room. My heart right now was pounding so hard in my chest; I couldnâ�™t hear anything else except that. Tip-toeing down the hallway, he mustâ�™ve noticed that I was there â�“ because he lifted his head and starred right at me. I was hoping now that I was invisible, or just a figment, but that didnâ�™t quite come true. Maybe thisâ�™ll make things easier, maybe heâ�™ll do the talking, and Iâ�™ll just listen to his sappy apology. A minute, maybe two or more had passed. I hadnâ�™t moved an inch and he hadnâ�™t stopped starring at me. Finally he moved â�“ he held a bottle of some sort in the air and waved me over. I forced myself forward and sat the furthest away I could from him on the couch. When William coughed, I could smell the alcohol on his breath, lovely. He took another sip of what appeared to be whiskey and placed the bottle down on the coffee table.

â�œI donâ�™t bite.â� He announced softly.

I didnâ�™t want to move, part of me didnâ�™t even want to be that close to him â�“ but the other half wanted it more than ever. I crossed my arms and decided to stay put.

â�œDo you act on impulse?â� I asked rather loudly.

â�œExcuse me?â�

â�œWell you mustâ�™ve when you were kissing her, and I can only imagine the thoughts running through your---â�œ

He was facing me now, but starring at that fucking bottle of whiskey.

â�œJessica Christ,â� he whispered, looking up at me now.

â�œYeah what William? Are we just gonna fight and never make up? Do you want me to forget that your little fuck up ever happened?â�

â�œWell thatâ�™d be great but-â�œ

â�œBut what, seriously, it makes me wonder what the fuck was going on in your fucking head when you kissed her. Because Iâ�™m pretty sure you kissed her first, donâ�™t tell me otherwise.â�

He turned his gaze back to the bottle of whiskey. To be frank, I have no clue why I never kicked him out before. Separation anxiety always seemed to get the best of me though, and I wasnâ�™t going to have that again.

â�œWhy didnâ�™t you throw me out Jessica?â�

I stood up now, not wanting to say anymore, maybe me retreating to my bedroom would solve everything. But I guess not, because he was still with me in tow with his bottle of alcohol. I quickened my pace and slammed the door, only for it to be flung open nearly off its hinges.

â�œWhat the fuck is wrong with you seriously.â� I yelled.

He slammed his bottle on my dresser.

â�œYou Jessica, thatâ�™s whatâ�™s fucking wrong with me.â�

â�œOh! Well is that so. If Iâ�™m the fucking problem, then go back to your lover-girl.â�

I walked into the walk-in closet and started throwing my clothes on the floor. Maybe I should just leave instead.

â�œI donâ�™t fucking love her alright? I loveâ�”â�œ

I turned around to face him, my hair lifting up like a cape.

â�œThatâ�™s what they all say. Iâ�™m not going to believe you, because if you seriously need that bottle to help you say the words that you canâ�™t sober, then Iâ�™m gone.â�

I turned back around and heard him pick up the bottle, followed by the sound of glass being shattered against a hard surface. And in turn this scared me shitless.

â�œThat better?â�

I forced a laugh. â�œToo bad youâ�™re not sober dumbass.â�

I heard his footsteps approach me. I wanted to disappear, like I was never there. Go all Eternal Sunshine for the Spotless Mind on his ass. Too bad that wasnâ�™t possible. I grabbed my suitcase from the floor, and stuffed all my clothes into it. William was two feet away from me, his gaze burning a hole through my skin, his breathing heavy and laced with whiskey.

â�œCan we just start over?â� He asked, kneeling down on the carpet.

I rolled my eyes, this was pathetic. Was he seriously that dense?

â�œYouâ�™re pretty funny William. Go buy yourself a time machine and maybe thatâ�™ll be possible. But until then, tough luck.â�

â�œJessica, will you listen to me?â�

I shook my head, â�œYou have nothing to say so, why bother.â�

I stood up, walked past him and gathered random things of mine and threw them onto the bed. Then I starred at the whiskey that was still dripping down the walls and that had soaked into the carpet. Tears started to line the rim of my eyes. I walked towards the door, then if walked as quickly as I could into Williamâ�™s room, or the spare room. Racing into it, I closed the door quietly and locked it â�“ thank god for locks on bedroom doors. Standing still, I crossed my arms and tried to scope out his notebook that he wrote his songs in. During this scoping out of the notebook, I took notice of how messy it was, how it smelled of his lovely scent that I missed. My eyes stopped on his bed stand, where I saw the brown leather notebook sitting perfectly on the cherry oak wood. With my arms still folded, I sat on his bed, by his pillow and reached out for the notebook â�“ only for it to me knocked to the ground by my shaking hands. It opened up to a random page that screamed my name in black ink letters. I picked it up and read everything that was on it. I still love you, Christ; it kills me so much to not hold you anymore, to have you beside me, to talk to you. I just wish you would realize how much this kills me. Whatever else was written after that was washed away by his tears. After that reads as follows; if this is a test Iâ�™m losing my shit. My reading was interrupted by Williamâ�™s voice.

â�œJessica, will you unlock the door?â�

His voice was cracking, and I could hear him crying â�“ I had never heard him cry, ever. This in turn only seemed to make me cry harder. I tried to hold them back though, I hated when he saw me cry.

â�œWhy?â�

â�œBecause I want to talk to you.â�

I closed his notebook and placed it back on the bed stand, stood up, walked towards the door and unlocked it. William opened it slowly and stood there, tears on his face. He brought his hand up and touched my face, which rather gave me a surprise â�“ but it forced me to wrap my arms around his lanky body. I sobbed into his chest and held him close. I pulled away and looked at him, still holding him close for comfort.

â�œI missed you.â�

He smiled and stroked my hair, â�œI missed you too.â�

Hold Me Close, Oh Tiny Dancer [William Beckett fanficcc.]

Oneshothere.

But itâ�™s more like a oneshot series.

For the lovely junglegymjessica

And yai for Elton John titles conjured by Jessica.

Postscript: Enjoy this.

Jessica

When I woke up, I couldn't feel the warmth of his body next to my own. But when I focused on the noises I was hearing, I heard the shower running - which made me slightly relieved, because he'd gone out on me before and hadn't come home until ten the same night. But only because the guys had called him, and he couldn't miss this said band meeting. When I heard him singing some old tune, I smiled. He was singing Jo Stafford from the sounds of it, one of the songs that he 'dedicated' to me. I turned over on my back and starred up at the ceiling, letting his calming voice soothe my ears.

It isn't your sweet conversation

That brings this sensation, oh no

It's just the nearness of you.

When you're in my arms and I feel you so close to me

All my wildest dreams come true

I need no soft lights to enchant me

If you'll only grant me the right

To hold you ever so tight

And to feel in the night the nearness of you

I smiled softy and slid out of bed. Tip-toeing quietly to the bathroom door, I heard him start to sing another song.

I used to lie awake and wonder.

If there could be

A someone in this wide world

Just made for me

And now I see

I had to save my love for you.

Ahh Sinatra. I was in the bathroom now; the heat of the shower surrounded me. I sat up on the counter and held the towel in my hands. He turned off the tap, coughed - then spat, and opened the shower door.

"Holy-Jesus-oh my fucking god -Christ"

I laughed, "Startle you?"

William pouted and looked at me, "Yes, yes you did. Now pass me that towel. My dick isn't exactly confident."

"But I've seen it before."

He snatched the towel out of my hands and wrapped it around his waist. He came up to me and put his hands on my thighs.

When I wake up, Iâ�™m crying. I always frequented this dream on Saturday nights, which meant todayâ�™s Sunday. I could smell fresh brewed coffee from the kitchen. I turn my head to look at the door, which is about halfway open. From outside the room I can hear The Price Is Right, the new one with Drew Carrey of course â�“ only itâ�™s a re-run. Rubbing my eyes, I slowly slide out of bed and trudge to the door. I slip through like a ghost and walk down the hall into the kitchen. From the corner of my eye when Iâ�™m pouring myself some coffee, I see William. He has his glasses on, and his eyes glued to the TV â�“ like everything else around him is either invisible or fake. Lucky for me, Iâ�™m the invisible one. Things arenâ�™t the same anymore between us. We still live together, but we hardly talk, have our separate rooms. We donâ�™t even attempt to. Weâ�™re kinda like strangers to each other now. But today, as I sit on the other side of the sofa from him, he stares at me. He stares at me like heâ�™s trying to figure me out, which usually pisses me off, because he never says anything ever â�“ even when we both know thereâ�™s so much to say. He turns his head back to the TV as I take a huge gulp of my coffee that burns my mouth. Sometimes I wish I had the courage to scream at him, or something of the sort. Right now though, Iâ�™m hoped heâ�™d open his mouth and say the things to me that I couldnâ�™t say to him. Instead, he stands up, stretches his long lanky legs, and goes into the kitchen. It was quiet for a minute, until he coughed.

â�œThat was probably the best coffee Iâ�™ve ever made.â�

Not what I was hoping for, but it was a start â�“ I guess. I heard him turn on the tap, put a few dishes in the dishwasher, close it and be quiet again. I sigh and stand up. I place my mug â�“ still full of coffee â�“ on the counter, and walk quickly past William into my bedroom which used to be our bedroom. He was walking quickly behind me, which made me speed up to get to the bedroom, slam the door in his face and lock it. I heard him sigh loudly, slam his back up against the door and slide down it. I threw myself on the bed and buried myself under the covers. Maybe this was all a dream, maybe when I woke up everything would be back like it used to be.

William â�“An hour earlier.

It was about eleven in the morning and Jessica wasnâ�™t up yet, which was rather weird for her. I got up from the couch, walked lightly down the hall and into her bedroom. Leaning against the door frame, she was lying on her side, away from me. I stared at the outline of her body, until I zoned off and jumped when I heard a slight rustle coming from her bed. I stepped quickly out from her room and went to go and brew some coffee. To be completely honest - I have no fucking clue what had happened between us. She never did anything wrong, it was me always that had to fuck everything up. Go figure. I remember the day quite vaguely, more than anything. I was home and Jessica was on her way home from work. I had actually never thought it through though when a lost fire had knocked on the apartment door. Then I had the nerve to let the whore inside our apartment. Which I regret to this day, until Jessica forgives me. Her name was Veronica; I had dated her for six months before Jessica. And I donâ�™t know why I never stopped or why I had started in the first place, but she kissed me and I kissed her back. About that time Jessica had walked in the door, happy as always to see me; until she saw Veronica. I donâ�™t really recall the rest though, just why she never threw me out.

100 Canadians

Three Canadian soliers killed. The nations death toll?

100.

On Friday the fifth, three Canadian soldiers were killed in the Afghan war. This brings the death toll up to 100. They were killed by a roadside bomb, while tasked with cleaing a highway of explosives - on one of Afghan's most dangerous highways.

My heart goes out to the families of the 100 Canadian soldiers killed.

Ps. Had a need to post this. ><

Yo, make it happen.

So I like to be a fan and read up on how Travis Barker is, and in this article I was reading.

It said Mark had hinted that Blink-182 may reform.

Which, would be like, the best thing in the world.

And make me incredibly happy.

Best day ever xD

I feel like I'm a kid in school - show and tell day.

Pre script: I may be getting his story wrong but shh. >.>

We had a MADD assembly/presentation at my school yesterday. And during the video before, when there were true stories being told, he was semi narrating it. Afterward, he walked up to the screen, and was talking. He played a song, "Another Second Chance."
You're probably wondering who the hell he is xD.
He's from a band none of your probably know, because they're from Canada-land. He's from Live On Arrival and his name's Robb Nash.
And he inspired me with his story.

You're probably wondering why. Well. When he was about 17, he got into a car with a bunch of people, and his buddy who was driving was intoxicated. They hit a patch of ice, slammed a semi truck and went under the semi truck - which tore the roof of the car off. When the EMT's got there to check him, he was dead. But he came back alive. And when he awoke in the hospitial it was summer, and his head was being held together by screws and titanium and all that good stuff that holds a head together >.> He suffered a skull fracture and memory loss, but recovered from that. And in the assembly he said, "I learned from that though. that you have to seize every moment in life and making the most of everyday, but we were put on this earth to do something. And I learned from that, and thats why I want to make an impact on peoples lives."

Flogging Molly = The best band I've seen in 08'

They seriously know how to put on a fucking show.

Post Modern Disaster.

Sink into the moonlight
Unwanted
Pale moonlight dances in your eyes
The soft glow of the city lights
Let me down.
Crumpled rose petals on your former lovers bed

The soft palm trees sway in the distance
As we walk upon the sand
The cool ocean hid out memories

The window open
Cool wind blows through my hair
You fall through my hands

Undivided
slip through the cracks
The sun upon the horizon
Clouds scattered across the stainglass sky
This was what we were supposed to be.