Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Underneath the Overpass
Time passed unnoticed, as I stayed in the same place I had been. I found it hard to even think about moving. I was just trying so hard to hold on, to not think about what had just happened, how badly I had fucked everything up. It broke me to realize that he and I wouldn't be talking anymore, that one bad moment was all it took to end something.
I knew that it wouldn't have been weird, had it been with someone else. But this was Spencer; my best friend since we were kids. It couldn't end. He was the only thing that was constant in my life. But it wasn't about what I wanted. It wasn't up to me. It was all him. He wanted it to end, because of my lifestyle, because of who I am, because of who I love.
Breathing became difficult somewhere along the way, and I tried so hard, so fucking hard, to keep from crying. Before I could even start, my quite hiding place was intruded on by two of the staff at the hospital. A nurse and doctor, the doctor pressing the nurse up against the wall. They were oblivious of me as they started to fuck. I stared at them for a long moment, waiting for one to notice me. They didn't.
I stood, walking out of the stairs quickly, making sure the metal doors slammed behind me. From there, I ran. I ran out of the hospital, and down the street, not knowing where my feet would take me. All I wanted to do was move. To get from one spot to another. I let my feet decide where I was going, not knowing until I was close. I stood outside the building, looking up at it. Staring at the spot high above the ground. A haven from this nightmare of a city, a refuge from daily life.
My sanctuary.
I walked into the building quickly, running up the steps, wishing I could move faster than my body would allow. Fifteen stories up, each floor having it's own story to tell. Hundreds of rooms that have walls that wished they could speak. If only someone would listen. Thousands of pieces of stories; betrayal, love, loss, desperation, a million overlooked things, some more significant than others. And no one would ever know. The stories that hotel rooms would say if they could.
I passed each one without listening. The sky had turned a dark blue, the sun preparing itself to set in the West. I moved along the row of flowers and thorns, ignoring each individual blade of grass, every petal and leaf. It was time to stop running.
There she stood; friend of sinners and artists. Her arms outstretched, her bird wings reaching towards the sky, her headdress holding the sun, her eyes smiling our at a world that would never know her. I stayed still, taking in her image, her beauty. No one would warship her now, she was dead with all other deities, replaced by celebrities who didn't care.
I stared up at her, wishing for something better, for something more. I knew how bad it was, but I envied her. Even if it hadn't been for hundreds of years, she used to have millions of people worship her. To think, that millions could worship someone who wasn't real. I wanted to be her. I wanted people to worship me. To tell me that I was divinity, to love me without cause or reason. To here the screams of thousands all rejoicing me, to know that I would be remembered.
It was a fantasy. And I would live for it. I would die, bleed, and breathe to make it to that fantasy.
To be a god.
I laughed. At what, I can't say. But I laughed, staring at the goddess as the sun finally came to terms with my mood, putting me in an equilibrium state. And I sat down, listening to the walls of the hotel rooms. Betrayal, love, loss, desperation. Hate, agony, pills, and blood. Liars, fakes, sinners, and lovers. They told me what they knew. All the things they had seen; the stories that hid in sheets and bricks and mirrors and showers. Forgotten memories and mistakes.
I wrote what I heard down, unmasking this city that I called my home. I had to show it's true colors, because it didn't know them. No one did. But they had to be heard. These stories hidden in the walls, the tales of casinos and strip clubs, the secrets of diners and secrete places. Things are never as well hidden as they should be. And maybe that's why no one will notice. Why no one will listen to the walls, unscrambling brick by brick with more history than the most ancient of Gods.
And I knew, I knew that one day I would make it to divinity. I could see the truth that none others could, and that was reason enough.
My sanctuary, a place of peace in a city of sinners, would be my door, and I would be unstoppable.
~~~~~
Short chapter, I know. This story won't have a happy ending, just putting that out there for people to know. And because of that, I know I'm going to do a second part so that maybe we can get into that happy place. This happens to be an excellent look into what the other half will be like when it happens. But were still a bit away from that.
New chapter of LIFOFH either tonight or tomorrow! Promise.
TheAnonymous: I know. He shouldn't care, but he does. But there's not much we can do about intolerance. I mean, there are, but it's hard to change peoples opinions.
Anyways, I hope you continue to enjoy this story despite the fact that it has disappointing points.
MySuicideInSilence: It is sad, but who knows, (other than me) if things will get better?
-xoxo Pansy.
I knew that it wouldn't have been weird, had it been with someone else. But this was Spencer; my best friend since we were kids. It couldn't end. He was the only thing that was constant in my life. But it wasn't about what I wanted. It wasn't up to me. It was all him. He wanted it to end, because of my lifestyle, because of who I am, because of who I love.
Breathing became difficult somewhere along the way, and I tried so hard, so fucking hard, to keep from crying. Before I could even start, my quite hiding place was intruded on by two of the staff at the hospital. A nurse and doctor, the doctor pressing the nurse up against the wall. They were oblivious of me as they started to fuck. I stared at them for a long moment, waiting for one to notice me. They didn't.
I stood, walking out of the stairs quickly, making sure the metal doors slammed behind me. From there, I ran. I ran out of the hospital, and down the street, not knowing where my feet would take me. All I wanted to do was move. To get from one spot to another. I let my feet decide where I was going, not knowing until I was close. I stood outside the building, looking up at it. Staring at the spot high above the ground. A haven from this nightmare of a city, a refuge from daily life.
My sanctuary.
I walked into the building quickly, running up the steps, wishing I could move faster than my body would allow. Fifteen stories up, each floor having it's own story to tell. Hundreds of rooms that have walls that wished they could speak. If only someone would listen. Thousands of pieces of stories; betrayal, love, loss, desperation, a million overlooked things, some more significant than others. And no one would ever know. The stories that hotel rooms would say if they could.
I passed each one without listening. The sky had turned a dark blue, the sun preparing itself to set in the West. I moved along the row of flowers and thorns, ignoring each individual blade of grass, every petal and leaf. It was time to stop running.
There she stood; friend of sinners and artists. Her arms outstretched, her bird wings reaching towards the sky, her headdress holding the sun, her eyes smiling our at a world that would never know her. I stayed still, taking in her image, her beauty. No one would warship her now, she was dead with all other deities, replaced by celebrities who didn't care.
I stared up at her, wishing for something better, for something more. I knew how bad it was, but I envied her. Even if it hadn't been for hundreds of years, she used to have millions of people worship her. To think, that millions could worship someone who wasn't real. I wanted to be her. I wanted people to worship me. To tell me that I was divinity, to love me without cause or reason. To here the screams of thousands all rejoicing me, to know that I would be remembered.
It was a fantasy. And I would live for it. I would die, bleed, and breathe to make it to that fantasy.
To be a god.
I laughed. At what, I can't say. But I laughed, staring at the goddess as the sun finally came to terms with my mood, putting me in an equilibrium state. And I sat down, listening to the walls of the hotel rooms. Betrayal, love, loss, desperation. Hate, agony, pills, and blood. Liars, fakes, sinners, and lovers. They told me what they knew. All the things they had seen; the stories that hid in sheets and bricks and mirrors and showers. Forgotten memories and mistakes.
I wrote what I heard down, unmasking this city that I called my home. I had to show it's true colors, because it didn't know them. No one did. But they had to be heard. These stories hidden in the walls, the tales of casinos and strip clubs, the secrets of diners and secrete places. Things are never as well hidden as they should be. And maybe that's why no one will notice. Why no one will listen to the walls, unscrambling brick by brick with more history than the most ancient of Gods.
And I knew, I knew that one day I would make it to divinity. I could see the truth that none others could, and that was reason enough.
My sanctuary, a place of peace in a city of sinners, would be my door, and I would be unstoppable.
~~~~~
Short chapter, I know. This story won't have a happy ending, just putting that out there for people to know. And because of that, I know I'm going to do a second part so that maybe we can get into that happy place. This happens to be an excellent look into what the other half will be like when it happens. But were still a bit away from that.
New chapter of LIFOFH either tonight or tomorrow! Promise.
TheAnonymous: I know. He shouldn't care, but he does. But there's not much we can do about intolerance. I mean, there are, but it's hard to change peoples opinions.
Anyways, I hope you continue to enjoy this story despite the fact that it has disappointing points.
MySuicideInSilence: It is sad, but who knows, (other than me) if things will get better?
-xoxo Pansy.
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