broken dreams.

She wasn't upset, everyone grieved differently. Would she have liked to seen Tyler right now, so the three of them could mourn together? Yes. "Pretending not to feel isn't going to change anything." Lucia ordered food, she wasn't sure if she'd finish it all. "It wasn't supposed to be like this." she repeated, her voice cracking at the end. "It's so fucked up. I keep thinking he'll walk through that door. He loved the fries here." she couldn't hold back the tears. "fuck this bitch ass horror movie, the killer aesthetic of the fisherman fucking piece of shit." except there was no letter, just people showing up dead.

Euphoria (2019—)

"i didn't think i'd have to explain to you that dying is inconvenient at best and forgettable at worst," he muttered in response. "you will matter. intensely, for a while. which is arguably worse than fading into nothingness. you'll be this all-consuming thought on my mind--" he said my, and he hadn't realised it, "and it will be annoying as fuck. and people will wish that it was morally acceptable to be angry at the dead, because they'll experience nothing but overwhelming loss. but it settles. it always does. it settles into something smaller."

which to him, wasn't the same as forgetting. it wasn't the same as not mattering. it was only shrinking down something incomprehensible into something that could be contained in one's chest. something that came out a few times a month as a sharp memory, rather than this ever-present thought on one's mind.

"do you really think people don't stay with you regardless? being small isn't the same as being insignificant. i think of my dad every time i forget to shave my face and every time i smell oil burning. people don't leave you. you just chip into their memory until they're containable. it's unbearable otherwise."

"some dead you should be angry at. some dead deserve your anger and your hate and all the worst things that crawl around in your head weighting you down." it wasn't the case with ryker. no, she was angry at the circumstances, at the thought that someone bombed a festival and caused her friend to lose his life when he had done nothing to deserve it. but that's not who she was referring to and he knew it.

her family had been linked to the santoros for years, and it wouldn't surprise her if her father was far too familiar with death and destruction. but kitty herself, she'd never lost someone close to her. not in this sense, at least. her face twisted at the mention of his father. there was still a deep seated disdain and hatred for that man, for what he put his son through before his well deserving demise. "your father--" even saying the word out loud left a bitter taste in her mouth "doesn't deserve a single second you might spend thinking about him. people like him need to be left in the depths of your past, as if they never existed. not after everything he did." she wanted to reach out and touch him, much like she did when they were younger and she could see the bruises he pretended weren't there. but that wasn't allowed anymore, she had no significance to him anymore, so she simply let out a silent sigh and turned away, bringing the cigarette that was barely more than a stub back to her lips.

Maybe it would've made more sense if they put actual fruit in it. Seojun wasn't particularly fond of sugary things to begin with, so the drink wasn't entirely offensive. Still, if something claimed to be blueberry flavored, shouldn't there be actual blueberries involved? That seemed logical enough. Authenticity had to count for something. Yet, despite his complaints, he found himself taking another sip.

Which only made his argument less convincing. He glanced down at the bright blue drink in his hand, scrutinizing it as though it had personally wronged him. "I don't understand how this has remained popular for so long," he remarked with a slight shrug. "There's no way blue raspberry pumps of syrup replaces the natural. It feels like everyone collectively agreed not to question it."