Post by AINSLEY MARIAH HARRIS on Mar 13, 2011 0:50:04 GMT -5
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Ainsley tugged the hood of her thin black sweatshirt up on top of her head. It wasn't that the cold was getting to her. That couldn't have been it, Ainsley loved the cold. It was the fact that all of the cool dampness in the air had her blue locks waving into frizzy, uncontrolled waves. If she'd been thinking, Ainsley would have brought a hair elastic, but when was Ainsley ever thinking clearly? It was almost an oxymoron or a joke, something that hardly made sense. Ainsley thinking? Impossible. That, of course, Ainsley would not agree to. She thought, rarely as it was. It was impossible, merely improbable. But humans had a tendency to believe the impossible before they wanted to believe the improbable. It was one of the many quirks that Ainsley had never been able to figure out. What was so wrong about improbability? Lots of things were improbable, in fact. Like being born. She'd once read in an article or a book that being born was a miracle. Only a small percentage of sperm cells ever made it into an egg. An even smaller percentage were ever even born. Besides, it always seemed to Ainsley like improbability was in her blood. What were the chances that a nice little girl in California got mixed up in the kinds of things that she did? What were the chances of anything, really? Maybe the odds were just made up so that humans could run to them when they were wrong. When they were right, they were right. When they were wrong, it was because it was against the odds and how could they have known? Human beings were fucking retarded. Never would Ainsley have imagined a race so unwilling to admit their own faults if she hadn't been living among them. She was different, though. She screamed her faults. She smiled through her faults. She shot up her faults, to be quite honest, and Ainsley rather enjoyed being honest. Lying had never been her strong suit, even to herself. It only stood to reason that there was nothing secret about her dirty little habits. The only people in the dark were her parents, but she wasn't hiding it from them. They'd just never asked. And why should they? Ainsley was just one of their faults. Nobody would ever admit to her.
The park was nothing magical, even at two thirty in the morning. Most teenagers would have you believe that the night time made everything more radiant, more unreal, more vulnerable. Ainsley knew better, though. The night was just the day with the lights turned off. The park was the same as it had been eight hours earlier, it was just a little bit harder to see things. The seesaw hadn't turned to life, nor had the swings gained the ability to swing up into the clouds. Everything was exactly as it always had been. Nothing magical. Real, everyday things weren't magical. They were real. That was why they were called real. It took something really special, something truly made of magic for humans to see the world as something more than just real. And Ainsley, of course, had stumbled into that very something. Without that something, Ainsley highly doubted her faults would be so extreme, nor would she have any to admit to even. But everyone had to choose their vices and no one got off free. As she walked, she kicked at the ground with one worn boot and Ainsley sighed. At least she was admitting her vices. No matter who judged her, she was at least ten steps above them. At least she was admitting it. That was the key, in Ainsley's mind, or maybe it was just the excuse. Not even a lie, since Ainsley sucked at lying. Just an excuse. Pure and simple.
As Ains tucked herself into a little crevice between the slide and the plastic wall of the jungle gym, she had to tug up the jeans she was wearing. Men's jeans were always so much more comfortable to her and she rarely wore anything else. She even wore boxers underneath just so that when the pants slipped down it didn't matter so much. That, combined with the enormous, thin black sweatshirt with the hood up, and her boots surely made Ainsley look like a guy to anyone looking. It was funny, though, because she was really quite effeminate and she wasn't even bisexual. She just had a thing for men's clothing. Ainsley pulled on the black hoodie, peeling off over her head like a second skin. She glanced down at the crook of her left elbow. The pale skin was riddled with black marks that made it look even whiter and her veins stuck out like they were choking. And maybe they were, but Ainsley couldn't hear them. She ran a hand through her frizzy blue hair before reaching for her bag, which was sticking just out from under the slide, visible to anyone who cared to look. Not that anyone did. No one cared to look for Ainsley Harris, and even if they did, they wouldn't like what they would find. "Even if they did find me," Ainsley murmured to herself, hardly aware that she was speaking, "I'd already be on my way back home, and when I get there, no one can drag me back." Blinking slowly, Ainsley reached inside of her bag, pulling out a thin needle, already filled with the sickly-coloured amber liquid. Ainsley knew she wouldn't even feel the sting of the tip when it got to her skin. She hadn't for quite some time. She could think of far worse pains, like getting shot or having a cinderblock dropped on her head or not having her 'special something.' A needle prick was nothing compared to what she would go through without it. She'd tried once, but of course she'd failed miserably. And that was that.
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WORDS ! 1001[/color][/font]
TAGS ! joey&&justin
OUTFIT ! well, she's wearing clothes.
CREDIT ! lyrics from "S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W" by my chemical romance, template by zee (i.e., FLUNK IS A FOUR LETTER WORD of caution)
NOTES ! so like, rawr.
