I want this insanity to be over, This place is screwing with my head. I want to go to the four seasons for a facial and a mani-pedi and take a damned break but Maman was right. The needful things must come first. Bismillah
Fuck it, he thought as he bit off the cap of his permanent marker. He wasn’t gonna be here much longer anyway, might as well enjoy himself with some good old vandalism. Ever since he got sick he had been spending tons of time drawing. His room was now littered with doodles and notebooks with sketches in them. He was good at it too, it was pretty much the only thing he could do now that he still got enjoyment out of. With all the fucking hospital visits and having to watch his parents cry every time they saw him he didn’t waste any time at home anymore. This was the fourth time he had gone out at night this week and committed vandalism on public property. He always drew the same type of things, marvel superheroes, women and on occasion cars.
As his hand made swift movements and he absentmindedly dragged the marker across the glass of the local college building, he drifted off in thoughts about another world. A world where he wasn’t ill, where he didn’t have to deal with retarded shrinks and ‘motivational pep-talks’ from his parents about his cancer. It was fucking stupid. He was going to die anyway, everyone knew it but nobody wanted to talk about it. He was so sick of their faces, even though they were his family. The only people that he could hang out with were his friends, but they had their own lives and it wasn’t like they had the time to hang out all night.
He’d lost all of his hair, one of many unpleasant side effects of chemo therapy. He covered his head with a hat or a hoodie pretty much all the time now to try and prevent people from staring at him when they passed him by. He didn’t have any eyebrows anymore either, which was usually something people asked him about when he met them for the first time. He hated it, but at this point his appearance was the last thing he cared about. All he wanted to do was have some fun before his time ran out because he knew it would soon. He had come to peace with it in a way, even tried to speed up the process by attempting suicide a couple of times. He’d never gone through with it so far, but it was still on his mind. If he was gonna go anyway, it might as well be at a time he chose himself, at least he would have control over that if nothing else.
With earbuds blasting music into his ears he hummed along to the rock song that was currently playing on his phone. He was so immersed in his art that he didn’t even notice the footsteps approaching behind him and becoming louder.
[I tagged you cerf-moi because I like rping with you but I had no muse for our previous threads. Totally just an option though, feel free to ignore if you’re not interested!]
“Screw writing “strong” women. Write interesting women. Write well-rounded women. Write complicated women. Write a woman who kicks ass, write a woman who cowers in a corner. Write a woman who’s desperate for a husband. Write a woman who doesn’t need a man. Write women who cry, women who rant, women who are shy, women who don’t take no shit, women who need validation and women who don’t care what anybody thinks. THEY ARE ALL OKAY, and all those things could exist in THE SAME WOMAN. Women shouldn’t be valued because we are strong, or kick-ass, but because we are people. So don’t focus on writing characters who are strong. Write characters who are people.” [x]