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Getting it Back Together.

Sunday, 7 July 2013 @ 14:03 | 0 Comment [s]

Since the last time I blogged, it's been two weeks. But see, many more things have happened. It's all seemed so happy for the past month, but it was actually bitter as hell. I'd blog if I was happy, but I wasn't exactly in the mood most of the time. But since the damage has been done, no harm in having the story out.
Collisionary Passion came back to me one day, all smiles, as though we were just old friends, as though all the trash that happened never did. I was wary, and terribly sarcastic with that fool. Apparently CP's found my old works in the drawers of the room that we (me and the gang) used to make use of, and thinks that it's such a terrible loss that I had to be let go like that. (Uh, hello, dearie. You kicked me and the rest out.)
I dismissed CP, although I wasn't angry anymore. And that made the first meeting.

Who knew, he began to pick out the rest of the gang as well. Apparently he found their old works as well, what a coincidence. And he said the exact same thing to them. And more. In essence, he broke us apart enough. And that's where the personal attacks began. The gang wasn't backing me up anymore, on top of that.

What was said about me? That I slept with one of the council members. How cute, the fact that there wasn't any specifics. Especially since CP is a part of the council as well. When I went back to collect my old works from CP under said person's instructions, I had incense ashes (the ones like you'd see in temples) thrown at me. I was tripped and kicked, but that was fine. I still could bear it.

Just not this part. I went up, only to find CP burning my works gleefully. Eight months' worth of it. What I remembered that I screamed was, "You filth, scumbag, waste of space, life, and energy...!"

And all CP did? Cock an eyebrow and say something amongst the lines of, "You're the filthy one. Don't you have any respect for yourself?"

Someone completely went over to the dark side. My newer works went missing. And I never saw it again, until approximately two weeks ago. A day or two after I last blogged, I found my works again outside my door. In a bucket. Soaking in some sort of blood-red material. Nearly another year's worth of works.

I called the rest of the gang up, but nobody responded to me.

Except S. .

And he told me everything. That the  someone who spread the news out also ruined my work. And he was in the know of it all. His works were burned long ago, and he knew that too, because he burnt it himself when we left. He knew everything that had happened, but he couldn't back me up. Because he knew too much.

I was so mad. My own best friend. I kicked him, hit him, all the things.
The only happy ending to this happened yesterday. And he said, "To me, you're simply like a girl. The rest stayed away to let me keep you. Simple enough?"

Of course it was simple enough.
I'm never going to be back there, it's clear enough. There's nothing that ties me back to that place anymore. Not CP, not my works. Nobody ties me to there. And the rest? They can't hang around me too often anymore. For the sake of S. and everybody around me. They probably won't take it too nicely. The first blow came too early for them when they found the things I wrote without thinking. I was writing as Cassidy. And I didn't think. And that's how they found out of my rather... peculiar choices. It's all fine now, though. I just have to be really subtle about what's going on.

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