<div align=center>
<link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Redressed' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>
<font style="font-size: 40px; font-family: redressed, georgia; color: firebrick;">What I Need To Do</font>
{ S E L F - P O S T // C L O S E D }
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I'M STRUGGLING TO FIGURE OUT WHO I AM, CHAINED BY THIS FEAR INSIDE
and i'm being drawn to you.
◠◠• • • ◠◠◠• • • ◠◠◠• • • ◠◠◠• • • ◠â—Â
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Brendon told a lie to his mother after she had brought him into the living room.
He had told her that he hadn’t been feeling too well and that he had opened his
window because he had been feeling hot. And, his mother had immediately
situated him out on the couch of the living room.
She had insisted that he lay down and she had gone to retrieve his sheets as well
as his pillow to ensure that he was nice and comfortable as he rested out in the
living room. Brendon lost track of time… of how long he remained out in the living
room.
At first, he rested. Or, at least, he tried… He tried to rest, but he began to feel
upset with himself as he realized what he had almost done in his bedroom.
He became even more upset, as well as anxious, as he began to really think about
Mr. Ardel at his bedroom…
Questions and thoughts like… what if… he came back? What if he was there right
now? His mother had closed his window and had locked it again, thank goodness…
J-Just… who was Mr. Ardel? Brendon was still ashamed of himself…
After resting had, well, failed… Brendon had tried to pass his time talking with his
mother. She had spent most of the rest of the day cleaning up the house and then
cooking them dinner. Brendon talked to her… and listened as she talked to him.
They talked about everything… and nothing…
Eventually, he picked up his fantasy book, The Sight, and began trying to
read once more from where he had left off. He wasn’t sure at what point it
happened… but he had apparently dozed off and fallen asleep.
Because, he had been woken up for dinner by his mother. They hadn’t had their
traditional meal at the dining room table. Instead, she had brought him a bowl of
hot chicken noodle soup. And she had sat down on the couch with him, eating her
own meal.
Brendon couldn’t…. talk to her about what had happened. He… He didn’t dare talk
to her about what had happened. He couldn’t talk to anyone. There was no one
for him to share his feelings with. They had to, like everything else, remain bottled
up inside of him.
He was lucky because, after dinner, he hadn’t had to study from any of the books
Mr. Ardel had delivered. Because he was sick, his mother had told him that they
would start their lessons tomorrow. Brendon pulled the covers more securely
around him… and tucked his feet underneath him as he sat on the sofa.
With a sad frown, he watched as his mother cleaned the living room. She
vacuumed and dusted… more chores he normally helped her with. Her cleaning
reminded him of… of his dirty robes and how she must have been upset when she
had saw them… upon entering his room.
In… In this moment, while sitting on the couch, silent and watching… hugging his
legs to himself… he felt alone. He felt the loneliness. He felt the upset and hurt
inside of him. The sadness…
He had to get better. He… He couldn’t think of Mr. Ardel again. He needed to
wash his clothes. He needed to… wash the bag that Mr. Ardel had brought. He
needed to tell his mother that… well, he wasn’t sure… He needed to tell her
something… to ensure that… that Mr. Ardel wouldn’t…
That he… he wouldn’t… ever come around… again…
Brendon blinked a few times, feeling the sudden sting against his eyes as they
tried to water and become teary. These feelings… and emotions… were deceitful.
He… he couldn’t rely on them, dwell on them, think of them…
So… So… this was… what he would have to do.
</div> ◠◠• • • ◠◠◠• • • ◠◠◠• • • ◠◠◠• • • ◠◠</div>
<link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Redressed' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'>
<font style="font-size: 40px; font-family: redressed, georgia; color: firebrick;">What I Need To Do</font>
{ S E L F - P O S T // C L O S E D }
</div>
<div align=center>
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I'M STRUGGLING TO FIGURE OUT WHO I AM, CHAINED BY THIS FEAR INSIDE
and i'm being drawn to you.
◠◠• • • ◠◠◠• • • ◠◠◠• • • ◠◠◠• • • ◠â—Â
<div style="text-align:justify; padding-top:0px; padding-bottom:0px; padding-left:15px; padding-right:15px; width: 380px; font-size: 11px; color: #000000;">
Brendon told a lie to his mother after she had brought him into the living room.
He had told her that he hadn’t been feeling too well and that he had opened his
window because he had been feeling hot. And, his mother had immediately
situated him out on the couch of the living room.
She had insisted that he lay down and she had gone to retrieve his sheets as well
as his pillow to ensure that he was nice and comfortable as he rested out in the
living room. Brendon lost track of time… of how long he remained out in the living
room.
At first, he rested. Or, at least, he tried… He tried to rest, but he began to feel
upset with himself as he realized what he had almost done in his bedroom.
He became even more upset, as well as anxious, as he began to really think about
Mr. Ardel at his bedroom…
Questions and thoughts like… what if… he came back? What if he was there right
now? His mother had closed his window and had locked it again, thank goodness…
J-Just… who was Mr. Ardel? Brendon was still ashamed of himself…
After resting had, well, failed… Brendon had tried to pass his time talking with his
mother. She had spent most of the rest of the day cleaning up the house and then
cooking them dinner. Brendon talked to her… and listened as she talked to him.
They talked about everything… and nothing…
Eventually, he picked up his fantasy book, The Sight, and began trying to
read once more from where he had left off. He wasn’t sure at what point it
happened… but he had apparently dozed off and fallen asleep.
Because, he had been woken up for dinner by his mother. They hadn’t had their
traditional meal at the dining room table. Instead, she had brought him a bowl of
hot chicken noodle soup. And she had sat down on the couch with him, eating her
own meal.
Brendon couldn’t…. talk to her about what had happened. He… He didn’t dare talk
to her about what had happened. He couldn’t talk to anyone. There was no one
for him to share his feelings with. They had to, like everything else, remain bottled
up inside of him.
He was lucky because, after dinner, he hadn’t had to study from any of the books
Mr. Ardel had delivered. Because he was sick, his mother had told him that they
would start their lessons tomorrow. Brendon pulled the covers more securely
around him… and tucked his feet underneath him as he sat on the sofa.
With a sad frown, he watched as his mother cleaned the living room. She
vacuumed and dusted… more chores he normally helped her with. Her cleaning
reminded him of… of his dirty robes and how she must have been upset when she
had saw them… upon entering his room.
In… In this moment, while sitting on the couch, silent and watching… hugging his
legs to himself… he felt alone. He felt the loneliness. He felt the upset and hurt
inside of him. The sadness…
He had to get better. He… He couldn’t think of Mr. Ardel again. He needed to
wash his clothes. He needed to… wash the bag that Mr. Ardel had brought. He
needed to tell his mother that… well, he wasn’t sure… He needed to tell her
something… to ensure that… that Mr. Ardel wouldn’t…
That he… he wouldn’t… ever come around… again…
Brendon blinked a few times, feeling the sudden sting against his eyes as they
tried to water and become teary. These feelings… and emotions… were deceitful.
He… he couldn’t rely on them, dwell on them, think of them…
So… So… this was… what he would have to do.
</div> ◠◠• • • ◠◠◠• • • ◠◠◠• • • ◠◠◠• • • ◠◠</div>