Mar. 10th, 2013

Story-bit

Mar. 10th, 2013 09:29 pm
persephone20: (dead girl)
Originally, this was posted on 19th April 2009. I'd never experienced depression before. Depression was simply something that had happened to a couple of friends and family members. This was... a sort of contribution to what I interpreted that feeling to be, inspired by the Placebo song Without you I'm nothing.

Now it's four years later. I've struggled a lot over the last six months and I have a deeper of the understanding of these words I wrote way back then. They just need to be here now, unchanged.

**

Young girl, sitting in a corner in her room, guitar sitting between her legs and fingers lazily strumming the notes, the chords. Her younger sister had come in to tell her to be quieter, but it had been a while ago and it seemed the sister had accepted the noise. Dark hair, almost black, falls over her eyes as the girl bends her head to look over the chords she plays. It's not a special song, certainly not one she's made up. She's just learning the chords from a well loved Placebo song.

I'm unclean, a libertine
And every time you vent your spleen,
I seem to lose the power of speech,
You're slipping slowly from my reach.
You grow me like an evergreen,
You never see the lonely me at all


A loud sigh is heard as the door to her bedroom is open. Her friend's tall and lanky form is the first figure to be betrayed, but the opening of her door reveals also her younger sister behind his shoulder. She's granted another opportunity to vent her displeasure before the door is closed again.

The girl makes one last strum of a chord and then puts the guitar aside. Her friend takes her bed, slim fingers touching each other at the tips as he glances her way. He's self possessed and she wishes she was self possessed. He makes messy look like a fashion statement, yet his hair over his eyes reminds her of the hair she has haphazardly tied back to keep from her face. She smiles, maybe sadly, maybe self deprecatingly, as her friend tips his head in a silent question, but it is a smile all the same, and boys are well practiced at accepting what is shown on the surface.

"What's up?" Her fingers twitch for the sake of finishing song and she curls her fingers so her small nails bite palms.

The boy inclines his head. "You weren't at practice."

Without her guitar, the girl is free to stand, to move out of the corner of her room and towards the window. "I didn't think I needed to be."

Practice had been orchestrated for the purpose of the new drummer getting a feel for the sounds of the rest of the guys. Vocals would come later, but she would have been welcome to attend.

There was no reply for a while. Her bed wasn't the kind that creaked when someone moved on it. As a result, her friend managed to stand and cross the room so that she was unaware of it until his arms were around her waist. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, you know." A weak shrug of the shoulder. "Just one of those days."

"Anything I can do to help?"

His head was bent, his lips near her throat, and she could think of many things. She smiled again, this time a smile he could not see.

"You're already doing everything you can do to help."

The houses outside of her window were mostly lower storey houses, and she was glancing out at a forest of roofs. She was dancing on those roofs at the same time as being held in the arms of her friend. She was dancing, she was still.

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