Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > If The Clouds Were Singing A Song.
Chapter One: I Miss You So Bad.
"I miss you, miss you so bad. I don't forget you, oh it's so sad. I hope you can hear me. I remember it clearly."---Avril Lavigne.
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The vivid colors lacked the luster of emotions Ryan Ross tried to portray on this canvas. His paint brush caressed the vacant areas with gentle strokes, but each color ran invisibly dry of stimulating originality. Midnight inspirations won't wait for delayed afternoons, hence the lousy painting he created. Memories of effortless creativity came in, as he looked at the trash before him and threw the brush to his feet. Pouting never got him anywhere, but he was still going to do it, because goddamnit, he just can.
But the worthless illustration haunted him as he walked to a chair and couldn't stop looking at the horror of what he could possibly make. Of course, even if it did hold any type of decency, he wouldn't think it. Actually, he'd probably debate to the death of how terrible it was if someone dared to tell him that it was actually nice. Nobody tries to prove Ryan Ross wrong. He guessed Violet was right when she said he was stubborn.
Violet.
Now there was a disaster that could traumatize anyone into experiencing brutal memories on a daily basis. Alas, Ryan felt slightly masochistic whenever she'd make a guest appearance in his thoughts. At least just having her be of some sort of existence was better than having none at all, he supposed. He just missed her, a little too much for his own taste. He always used to wonder how one would just be entirely obsessive over a girl, but then he discovered that it was much more than just an obsession. It was love. But that's the thing about love, there is a tiny obsession hidden in the complexity of it somewhere. That's why we care so much about it, why we do the things we do for it. Even if it's completely silly or completely horrible, we do it because we want to hold on to it. We want to hold on to the thing that has a possibility of infinity. But he learned that infinities were of a different magic love just wasn't enough to obtain. Yet, he still tried draw and find ways of the infinity that Violet could not. Or didn't have time too.
Suddenly, a vibration erupted from his pant's pocket, as he figured it was Jon calling once again. But, he still retrieved it from his pocket and checked to see if it were actually him, calling for the hundredth time since she left. Ryan sighed. It was Jon, but he didn't pick up. Ryan wasn't in the mood to be having conversations with him, or anybody for that matter. He just wanted to mope around his house without being disturbed. But, Jon just wouldn't give up. After a few more vibrations, there was a beep to indicate he had left a message. Ryan decided he could at least hear what he wanted to say. But he already had some kind of prediction about what Jon wanted to talk about. Still, he put the cell phone to his ear and listened.
"Hey, this is Jon. I just wanted to see how you were doing. Well, I know how you're doing... It's just, I'm pretty worried about you. Even Madeline is. Can you at least call me back so I could know if you're still alive? Well, call me back."
But Ryan wasn't going to call back. He wasn't going to do anything. He felt so useless now. Nothing to keep his breath in motion; his lungs lacking proper career. She seemed to be his everything, until that everything decayed into the oblivion of bitter memories. How could something that was worth such value just melt away into the vacancy of this reality, when she used to be the one to melt away his heart. Hell, she could still melt away Ryan's poor, pathetic heart. Sadly, she wasn't around to cause his heart to melt or beat or anything, but her absence could definitely make it shatter.
Ryan felt absolutely pathetic.
But what was he to do? All he has was a broken heart, a relentless friend, and a crappy painting that Violet would be so ashamed of if she were here to see it. He missed the feeling of happiness, or the bubbly giddiness he'd receive in his stomach whenever Violet would hold his hand. God, he just missed her. And he'd always get around to wondering if she ever felt the same way. Was the gloomy misery shrieking throughout his agonized veins a mutual emotion that he and Violet both shared? Did she feel the exact despair whenever a cloud twirled into her view as Ryan did whenever he'd catch glimpse of the sky? In these moments, would they be connected in the same ache of heart? He always wondered that. He always wanted that. And the only thing he could do was hope it were true.
The day that girl walked into his life, things would never be the same.
This is how it all began.
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Author's Note:
Whoa, I'm back.
Compliment/Comment/Critique.
Do with it as you like.
"I miss you, miss you so bad. I don't forget you, oh it's so sad. I hope you can hear me. I remember it clearly."---Avril Lavigne.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The vivid colors lacked the luster of emotions Ryan Ross tried to portray on this canvas. His paint brush caressed the vacant areas with gentle strokes, but each color ran invisibly dry of stimulating originality. Midnight inspirations won't wait for delayed afternoons, hence the lousy painting he created. Memories of effortless creativity came in, as he looked at the trash before him and threw the brush to his feet. Pouting never got him anywhere, but he was still going to do it, because goddamnit, he just can.
But the worthless illustration haunted him as he walked to a chair and couldn't stop looking at the horror of what he could possibly make. Of course, even if it did hold any type of decency, he wouldn't think it. Actually, he'd probably debate to the death of how terrible it was if someone dared to tell him that it was actually nice. Nobody tries to prove Ryan Ross wrong. He guessed Violet was right when she said he was stubborn.
Violet.
Now there was a disaster that could traumatize anyone into experiencing brutal memories on a daily basis. Alas, Ryan felt slightly masochistic whenever she'd make a guest appearance in his thoughts. At least just having her be of some sort of existence was better than having none at all, he supposed. He just missed her, a little too much for his own taste. He always used to wonder how one would just be entirely obsessive over a girl, but then he discovered that it was much more than just an obsession. It was love. But that's the thing about love, there is a tiny obsession hidden in the complexity of it somewhere. That's why we care so much about it, why we do the things we do for it. Even if it's completely silly or completely horrible, we do it because we want to hold on to it. We want to hold on to the thing that has a possibility of infinity. But he learned that infinities were of a different magic love just wasn't enough to obtain. Yet, he still tried draw and find ways of the infinity that Violet could not. Or didn't have time too.
Suddenly, a vibration erupted from his pant's pocket, as he figured it was Jon calling once again. But, he still retrieved it from his pocket and checked to see if it were actually him, calling for the hundredth time since she left. Ryan sighed. It was Jon, but he didn't pick up. Ryan wasn't in the mood to be having conversations with him, or anybody for that matter. He just wanted to mope around his house without being disturbed. But, Jon just wouldn't give up. After a few more vibrations, there was a beep to indicate he had left a message. Ryan decided he could at least hear what he wanted to say. But he already had some kind of prediction about what Jon wanted to talk about. Still, he put the cell phone to his ear and listened.
"Hey, this is Jon. I just wanted to see how you were doing. Well, I know how you're doing... It's just, I'm pretty worried about you. Even Madeline is. Can you at least call me back so I could know if you're still alive? Well, call me back."
But Ryan wasn't going to call back. He wasn't going to do anything. He felt so useless now. Nothing to keep his breath in motion; his lungs lacking proper career. She seemed to be his everything, until that everything decayed into the oblivion of bitter memories. How could something that was worth such value just melt away into the vacancy of this reality, when she used to be the one to melt away his heart. Hell, she could still melt away Ryan's poor, pathetic heart. Sadly, she wasn't around to cause his heart to melt or beat or anything, but her absence could definitely make it shatter.
Ryan felt absolutely pathetic.
But what was he to do? All he has was a broken heart, a relentless friend, and a crappy painting that Violet would be so ashamed of if she were here to see it. He missed the feeling of happiness, or the bubbly giddiness he'd receive in his stomach whenever Violet would hold his hand. God, he just missed her. And he'd always get around to wondering if she ever felt the same way. Was the gloomy misery shrieking throughout his agonized veins a mutual emotion that he and Violet both shared? Did she feel the exact despair whenever a cloud twirled into her view as Ryan did whenever he'd catch glimpse of the sky? In these moments, would they be connected in the same ache of heart? He always wondered that. He always wanted that. And the only thing he could do was hope it were true.
The day that girl walked into his life, things would never be the same.
This is how it all began.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Author's Note:
Whoa, I'm back.
Compliment/Comment/Critique.
Do with it as you like.
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