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so, this is a question i am almost possible no one will be able to answer.

iloveboxcars

By iloveboxcars
in Channel Zero

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iloveboxcars

iloveboxcars

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but im going to ask it anyway.

 

awhile ago i posted a short story about a guy in love with a girl.. it was more of a part of a story.. but this part focused on one particular guy and could have passed off as a short story itself.. i cant find it..

 

i dont know what i named the topic, and i dont know if i can search for topics that i created... atleast i couldnt find that option.

 

does anyone remember this happening?

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iloveboxcars

iloveboxcars

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well its about a guy that is in love with a girl, but they broke up and he carved thier initials into a tree but he used a marker instead of carving because he didnt want to hurt the tree.

 

i swear its much better then it sounds right there.. but yeah. thats what its about and i need to find it.

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iloveboxcars

iloveboxcars

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i found it.

 

just incase you are curious.

 

 

he walked away because you were being freaking dumb and he wanted to destroy the bond you two once had by never EVER EVER EVER EVER talking to you again. but he couldnt resist, something about those awkward hips and those luscious lips taking slow sips from a glass of .... something... made him return. he always blamed it on enrico caruso's "Vesti La Giubba." he loved opera and riverdance. you never would go with him because you were too into your postal service and portishead. he despised every move you made. he hated when you smiled at him. he hated when you wore "low rise" or "no rise" jeans because you showed a little too much of those awkward hips i mentioned earlier, and he liked them. he always talked of glass shattering love when he spoke of you. i have no fucking idea what that means, but thats how he described it. he use to walk around with a marker and put "(his name) and jeanette 4 eva" inside a heart. usually on trees. he didnt care for nature. he actually shot birds on a regular basis and just left them there to decompose. "stupid little noise makers" he would say. and he meant it. he meant every word he ever said, but he would tell you he didnt later so you two could fake your love for each other once again. At least thats how he felt. he really did and does love you. but he also believes money has sex appeal. even with its not quite hour glass frame. he always admired your body but never wanted to tell you. one time when you slept he kissed the back of your knees. he doesnt expect you to understand, but in that moment he was at the height of his love for you. his love did dwindle though, when you went off to other shores, he slipped up once and called you whores. he never quite grasped the concept of singular and plural. he did grasp most of stephen hawkings theories though, and not many people can do that. well, they could.. but not at the level at which he believed he could grasp them. he's been sleeping on a hillside, a desolate hillside, and he was desperate. desperate for whatever you had to offer, love hate sadness. he knows so much about these things already from your previous encounters. he winks at you when your head is turned. he contemplated kissing your toilet seat once. that thought left his head just as soon as it had come though right when he saw his urine splatter on it. he would frequently listen to the smiths "girlfriend in a coma" especially at the part where morrissey sang "there were times when i could have murdered her, but you know, i would hate anything to happen to her."

 

he loved you. he loves you. he hated you. and he still does. he told me to tell you all of this while i watched him swinging. he told me if i tried to get him down he would kill me. i believed him. he told me he thinks rope burns are sexy, and he hopes you think so as well. he asked me to mention the possibility of you kissing his soft dry lips when you find him in that tree. one last go before its too late. he said you would understand, because you understand alot.. he also said you might be faking it though. with his last breath he told me to tell thomas jefferson to go fuck himself. thomas jefferson isnt even alive anymore so i think he was just getting delirious from the lack of oxygen. but i went ahead and laid a note on top of thomas jeffersons grave any way with those exact words written in blood. the dead can only read what's written in blood. this whole message still tastes of failure, goodbye his love.

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