Blink-182 Pathetic Novels & Stories

See you all in my next one <3 With all my gratitude, [Sapphire Phoenix]

Your own personal hell. ******************************************

depressing and bleak. Thanks for sticking around. I appreciate you. Much love, Celice

#MarriedButAlone #IMarriedACheater #PagesI’llDeleteLater “What is this? A pity poem?” I spat with a scowl, “Who the hell wrote this?!”

It means he wants something he cannot simply take. I stand and smooth the front of my blouse. My hand is steady. I make it steady by focusing on the motion, the fabric under my palm, the button at my collar that I check with two fingers. These small rituals of composure are not performance. They are the machinery I have built to move through moments when I do not know what is coming.

she coerced out the words as she blinked twice nervously. His stare was something unbearable for her and she couldn't stand him giving her utmost attention. He was clearly mocking her nervousness with his stare because he always enjoyed when people fear his presence. But she looked more like as if she was embarrassed. She took out a blazer from her bag which was wrapped in a paper bag, forwarding towards him to take. "Thankyou for lending me this and I've been trying to give back to you but didn't got the chance. And I've dry cleaned it, so...no worries."

Pathetic. I raise my arms, blade poised high, cold steel gleaming beneath the flickering light. I scream as I drive the blade deep into his chest, feeling it slice through flesh, muscle, and bone. I feel the brittle snap of our withered bond breaking inside me like a dry twig, echoing in my ribs. I press the blade in harder, snarling into his wild, panicked eyes, forcing him to relive every pathetic moment of his pitiful life as it bleeds out of him.

was a "Total-Somatic-Merge." As they "Synced," they didn't just "Overload" the system with love; they "Overloaded" it with "Debt." They "Dumped" every "Sorrow," every "Grief," and every "Unpaid-Moment" of the last fifty years into the Vantablack prompt. They "Charged" the "Creditor" for the "Interest" of their "Sovereignty."

I fiercely pulled my hand out from his grip and gave him one last vengeful smirk. On reaching to the elevator door, I ran into Kate, and she was startled to death as she got a glance of me. She looked as if she was standing before a ghost. I starred directly into her eyes and smiled confidently. "You see that? That's why a puppy chooses to remain with it's canned food instead of chasing for a bone bigger than their mouth. I'll be the last face you see before you go back crawling back to the mud." I said to her in disdain.

“…it’s always someone else’s fault. Well, it's my fault if I'm around.” The lump in my throat came without warning. I ignored it. “I tried to stay out of it,” I added. “But my step-siblings…They don’t get to stay out of it,” I said, quieter now. The brush slipped. A streak of color cut across the canvas in the wrong direction. I stared at it. “…They deserve better,” I whispered. My words cracked. I felt that sharp, unbearable pressure behind my eyes. I blinked once. Twice. It didn’t help.