living life through pictures

The thing is, I can’t say I’m over him. But at the same time, I can speak to him without feeling much of anything anymore.
But he’s a boy who, if I get into a relationship with someone else, I’m still going to have the pictures of him, and of us together. Those are pictures I never want to delete, even if I look back at them and they hurt me.
No. That’s not what I mean for them. I want to keep them, as a memory. I want to keep the texts and the pictures because I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to be 17 and forget where 13 and half of 14 went. I don’t want to forget the happiness, and the pain that I shared with him.
I still love him, yes. I always will, after all. But while I can’t say I’m over him, I can say I’ve moved on. I can say I’m not spending my nights crying over him anymore. And I can say I can live without him.
—  Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #4

Tim grows up with the bat family. Or– something like it, when he realized that Robin was Dick Grayson, it gave Tim some kind of… connection. A kinship, to the family he lived next door to, the people he trailed at night across the rooftops of Gotham with little more than a ratty hoodie and his favorite film camera.

Tim is ten when Dick retires from Robin and leaves Wayne Manor, but by then Bruce has brought home Jason Todd and Tim… develops an obsession that might be unhealthy.

Given the echo of the empty halls of Drake Manor though, Tim gives himself permission to imagine what it would be like to really know the Wayne’s. To go for lunch with Dick Grayson, or play cards games with Jason. What it would be like to have a parent like Bruce, stern and difficult, but so incredibly devoted to his sons and–

Tim usually stops the fantasy there. It doesn’t do to dwell on things he’ll never have.

His parents are killed in Haiti when he’s thirteen, and six months later when Jack Drake is brought to Gotham Memorial in a coma, Tim thinks maybe… maybe something will change–

It does, for a little bit, Jack Drake awakens from his coma and Tim doesn’t follow Batman or Robin or Nightwing for a few short months, and his dad gets remarried and for a while Tim gets to find out what it was he missed all those lonely years in Drake manor.

And then Jack is murdered.

He talks to the photos he prints and frames on the wall, and sometimes he can trick himself into believing they talk back to him. He’s always been alone anyway, he pretends his heart doesn’t ache when the only answer is silence.

A Leap of Faith

Ok, so I wrote this in probably 30 mins. I don’t know where it came from but hey, it’s something. So here’s my comeback from being inactive on the writing front!

Summary: The need for acknowledgement will drive people over the edge.

Word Count: 693 (I know super short from me)

Warning: Suicide

On FF.net


It’s a wonder words ever happened to appear on a page. Writing was a struggle. Still is. How she did it, no one knew, but she made words come to life on paper. Pictures were imagined, characters lived through her. But no one seemed to care about what happened to her. She wrote and wrote, and the few times she got attention for it, it was stolen away from her.

Like how can one go on with that when each time she would be recognized, someone else would shove her out and take the spotlight that she had rightfully earned? How was that fair? It killed her motivation, murdered her inspiration, but she buried her true feelings to maintain the peace.

Lucy was a lost writer.

Music surrounded him. Everywhere there was a rhythm that he could find. A melody that would be hidden to others, but clear as day to him. The music of his soul was nothing but his own. He chose to share it. And people came out of the woodwork and called him out. Calling him worthless, calling for his retirement, demanding him to leave.

Why was it frowned upon to share his music? How many people had he seen on YouTube being praised for sharing their music, but as soon as he does it, he’s called a wannabe and told to stop while he’s ahead. Didn’t they know that they already paid for most of his music from Google Play, listen to his singles on Spotify?

Natsu was a mistaken musician.

Lucy was a published author.

Natsu was a signed musician.

If they were so credited, why did the people complain about their works when they decide to share a little bit of their lives?

She’s a college graduate. An English teacher.

He has a high school degree. He’s been on four tours.

Love was the furthest thing from their minds, acknowledgement being the first. Was it too much to ask for? Was a simple good job too much?

People wonder why the world is such a depressing place. It’s not from the lack of jobs, or the crumbling economy that the next generation has to deal with. But the lack of encouragement that is given. The world continues to spin, each and every day. People continue living, taking each day at a time. For those that seek the little praises in their work, a positive word can go a long way for them. It could make their day, it could make their week.

Many creative people fall into the path of flowing down the river, not caring about the rocks that may hit them along the way or the waterfall that they are approaching. So many put their lives into their work, only to get no response. Shouting the void, losing their voice in the wind, sinking into nothingness.

She taught children the importance of writing.

He shared his wants and passions through song.

The importance of character development and diction.

Life experiences that one can learn from.

Each person lives their own world. Seven billion of them on this planet, brushing by each other, some melding into one, some bouncing off each other to end up on opposite sides of the world.

Seeking out those moments, when one word makes a difference, a world is brightened. Only to become dreary again because those words no longer appear. To hold onto those words for so long, it kills them. They no long mean anything. They have been drained of the life that they once held.

A book is no longer bought.

A song no longer heard.

Similar pains. Pain that draws people together. They begin at different times, and they may end at different times, but this time? This time, they will end at the same time.

A message sent.

A reply read.

An agreement reached.

Worlds change direction and meet at the bridge outside of town.

Decisions were made, and holding hands, they leapt into the air, wishing for once… for the last time, that they could know what it felt like to fly again with the praises that they had received from this fake world.

So, what do you guys think? I know it’s not my usual, but I like how it came out. ^^;