Tris Prior (
priordivergence) wrote2015-09-01 11:36 pm
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Too many war wounds and not enough wars [Ronan Lynch, 8/21/15]
There's no Fight Club tonight and it's enough to make me want to slam my fist into a brick wall until it bleeds except that I know it won't be satisfying. I need someone who can hit back until I can't feel anything but rage. Al's arrival leaves me insecure and afraid, old scars ripped into new wounds. I need to fight until I can't hear anything but the blood in my ears.
I know someone who hates me just enough to make it work.
It's what sent me, first, to a liquor store to buy a six-pack of beer. I won't touch a drop of it, but it should be fitting enticement for someone naturally belligerent. Beer in hand, I take the train with all of its slowing and stopping, out to the countryside. Ignoring the peaceful beauty, I search for the clearing where I once met a white stag.
"Ronan Lynch," I say, waiting.
I know someone who hates me just enough to make it work.
It's what sent me, first, to a liquor store to buy a six-pack of beer. I won't touch a drop of it, but it should be fitting enticement for someone naturally belligerent. Beer in hand, I take the train with all of its slowing and stopping, out to the countryside. Ignoring the peaceful beauty, I search for the clearing where I once met a white stag.
"Ronan Lynch," I say, waiting.