#begiltedged

“So I’m assuming you talked to Scott?”

How much easier it’d been, to rely on someone else to lay everything vicious and wrong in the world at Jackson’s feet. She still wanted him to look at her like she was someone and not something.

shIT SHIT ABORT /TRIPS, FALLS, STAYS DOWN

i ran a tony that i followed ur jack on a while back; theprodigalsonreturns. plus you just followed my owen a few days back and i’m def planning on pouncing on u ther and then there’s scott at andneverfall sO MANY BLOGS HOW DID THIS HAPPEN

that. is a lovely idea. (ps hi i’m kaia kerri gushed at me abt you a few minutes ago and i’ve also apparently follows your jack on other blogs for like twelve years)

hello i’m just leaving the tabs open that i like and am saving them as needed like an inferior child

Not that it’s anything new, most of her nights are either spent dosed out on Vicodin or watching people in their final moments. A slew of faces. Sometimes, it’s a plane crash, so many of them that their faces all blur together. Sometimes, it’s an old woman rattling out her final breath. 

All too often, it’s her friends. 

But tonight, she dreams of old woods and unfamiliar accents. The stench of wolfsbane in her nose. Loss  so deep that it cracks open her ribs and sucks out the marrow.

Lydia doesn’t remember climbing from her bed, nor does she remember getting behind the wheel of her car. All she knows is that the moon is hanging fat and full in the night sky, and she is standing in the fields outside of the airport, shivering.