From: cbennett@greenhills.net (christina bennett) ::weak smile:: Hi. It's 4:30 in the morning, I have an opening night performance tonight at seven, I've been so busy I can barely breathe, but I'm so bummed out right now, I just can't sleep. And yes, I'm okay. I'll be fine, I promise. It's just trouble with my boyfriend, nothing that can't be solved. And I realized, it's been months since I'd written anything. So, here, a fic, as yet untitled. It's Two A.M. by Christina Bennett Disclaimer: Okay, let's put it this way, if I owned these characters, do you think we'd be watching reruns on Cartoon Network? No. Sorry. And the lyrics to Round Here prolly belong to the Counting Crows. Clinton and Milosevic are still entities in and of themselves... I own, maybe a few names... Everything else belongs to somebody else, and I am making absolutely no money. Rating: PG-13, maybe, for language... Category: A? Damn, I never could classify a fic... Archivers: Sure. Knock yourselves out. Date: 5/28/99 It's two a.m. I'm sitting on the floor, in front of my TV. It's just hit me. The runaway train force of it, just hit me. How much I've let slip by. How much I’ve lost, in twelve short months. Sanity, family, friends... lost... Dead. I sigh. Too many funerals this year. Too many good people gone... I have to look for the good in people. I have to. I have nothing else, I have to look at the good in people. Even those I really could do without, I can find good in... Tabitha, she's good at taking your mind off things. Melissa really cares about doing what's right, she really does, I just know. Rick and Jason don't take any crap from anybody... but Hell, they're gone, too, now... Back in Maine, and I am here in Venezuela, with Mom. I can't lose faith. Can't lose hope, that somewhere out there, is a time that exists where people can be trusted. Where people are all still good at heart. I think there is. I think most people are still good at heart. I think -- no, I believe that things will get better. I believe in surviving. I believe in never giving in. I believe in hope. I am a survivor. That much is true. But every survivor has to have something to live for, and for me, it is my friends. And this year, I have lost too many. Doctor Quest. That man never gave up, never gave in, and never, ever forgot what was important. The world will suffer without him. Dad. Oh, god, I could write a thousand pages about all the good that my father did, in his way... He may not have invented any cures, any medical advances, but he rid the world of more than a few diseases... Those type of diseases that walk and carry semi-automatic rifles. Hadji. Mom says we can fly to Bangalore and visit him, but it's not the same. It's not hearing him chiding me for being a little reckless. It’s just not right. As much as I love chaos, and change, I hate losing people, I hate it. Jonny. I honestly don’t give a damn what the girls say about him being an immature little prick. Jonny and I were friends. Good friends. Part of me wanted to love him. Maybe part of me did. As a brother, in any case... And not waking up, hearing him tripping over God only knows what... Kills me. That damn dog, Bandit... He comes trotting into my room, and just looks up at me. I cry. I cry, and cry, and cry until I just can’t feel anything anymore. It’s just as if the world was slipping past me, and nothing matters, and everything is going to just go to Hell anyway. I stop breathing, stop thinking, and just stare at my stereo. It's two-thirty a.m. Disc 3. Number 8. It’s a live version of the Counting Crows’ “Round Here”. The goddamn radio edit is about as moving a song I'd heard since “Ghost” from Secret Samhadi by Live. The live versions are worse. The Crows rewrite them a bit every time, taking bits from songs. This one's ten minutes long, and in this state, I can recognize that it’s got lines from “Have You Seen Me Lately”. The one on the other CD, something from their show on VH1 Storytellers, is six minutes... But this one... is just beyond sad. Beyond moving. I put this song on repeat and listen to the words... This one part hits home, bad... “There's a girl on the car in the parking lot says: ‘Man, you should try to take a shot. Can’t you see my walls are crumbling.’ Then she looks up at the building and says ‘hey, I'm thinking of jumping’. She says ‘I’m sick and tired of life, but everybody's sick and tired of something’.” It's two-forty-five a.m. Mom's just standing maybe five feet away. I ask her quietly, did I wake her up. No. Okay. And she goes back to bed, after taking a couple Advil. I’m pretending to watch the news. Clinton and Milosevic, Littleton and gun control, Chinese spies and declassified memos... The anchor with the Coke bottle glass and a mismatched tie says to the Asian chica beside him, “There's just something wrong with the world today.” And I catch myself staring at a razorblade by the TV. I start to reach for it. My fingers curl around it. I can barely see, I’m crying so very hard. But I pick the razorblade up, and hold it up to my eyes. And throw the goddamn thing out an open window. I will not give up. I will not give in. -- ~ Chriss ~ The Bitter Dragon ~ cbennett@greenhills.net ~ AIM: Mara1073 ~ ICQ: 39102892 ~~ "There are things I cannot do. I cannot watch while people suffer. I cannot sit when something must be done. I cannot judge those who are different. "There are things I cannot do. Run. Hide. Ignore. "There are things I cannot do. But there are certainly things I will do." ~~ Queen Amidala's TV commercial for "The Phantom Menace" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Looking to expand your world? http://www.onelist.com ONElist has over 150,000 e-mail communities from which to chose!