What you don't understand, you can make mean anything.
Thu, Jan. 20th, 2011 04:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
allnostalgiaThe alarm goes off at 8:00 AM.
Monday’s bright golden rays of sunrise was burning his skin and he shifted to the shaded part of the bed sticking himself to the cool wall. He pulled the covers up over his head and grunted. Why aren’t the shades down?
A few quiet minutes later he sat up, scurried to the bathroom and bathed.
At noon he was sitting in class with a headache. That headache he’s had for a couple of weeks now. He doesn’t notice it when he begins to doze off during the lecture. “Shim Changmin!” His head snaps up and he feels his nerves quiver and beat the hell out of his brain’s surviving brain cells.
Thing is, when you’re in school, you’re forced to listen to teachers who think they’re the best out there when in fact you know more than they will ever be aware of because they live in textbooks.
Forced to study. When all you want to do is learn. There’s a world of a difference. Like being intelligent and educated, wise and smart. Teachers don’t get that drift. Pity.
At lunch he meets up with old buddies and eat out. Grab a couple of drinks, maybe. Smoke pot even. Nobody gives a shit when you’re in college. People are all, ‘I do what I want. Fuck off.’
One of the things they’ll never teach you in college is reality. Its all about ideals. Lies, most of the time. Lies are things that don’t change when times do. Same as ignorance.
He’s read it before from Chuck Palahniuk; What you don’t understand, you can make mean anything.
But sometimes its not that you don’t understand it, you just want to see things differently.
Have you ever felt your heart do summersaults?
How do you understand that?
Changmin thinks. Stoned. He’s still flying, up and up and up into an endless blank slate of hypersensitive senses and inexistent time.
He comes to class at two in the afternoon. Looking sober.
“Pothead.” He’s just the boy you’d love to ignore but you have got the same mindset and interests and wit and snark. He made you gay and you would love to curse him for that but you can’t.
His headache is gone for a while.
Have you ever felt your heart do summersaults?
Shim Changmin won’t admit it but Kim Jaejoong makes his heart do summersaults and he can’t explain how it feels exactly.
Well, at least not in this state.
Nobody will ever teach you how love really is. Its one thing you’d have to learn the hard way. Its inevitable. Like McDonald’s burgers.
Changmin expects him to understand that it won’t work.
But then, they think alike. What you don’t understand you can make mean anything, maybe he’s read it like he had.
Or, he understands, he just wants to see it differently.
Changmin is trapped.
Dear, you are trapped.
With that headache included in the package wrapped in porcelain-skinned beauty.
When your genius meets the same genius, you realize you’ve never thought of how you’d destroy yourself in a completely logical way.
Another thing no one will ever teach you is how to hit rock bottom.
Self-destruction is masturbation. He once said before.
They’ve talked about it countless times but it doesn’t wrap around his head as much as his ideas don’t dwell on his.
He wants him.
Its simple but he keeps thinking it isn’t.
“What makes it complicated? Tell me.” He’s standing in front of Changmin at his doorstep. Demanding for something that should have been in his brain since Jaejoong entered his life but there isn’t anything he can utter. Not even a simple rejection. He could lie for all he cares but he doesn’t. Not to him. And he gets pissed off and says, “Its just not simple enough.”
“Is it that complicated?”
He has no idea but Jaejoong knows he just hasn’t gotten the hang of the idea of two men being together. He’s beginning to think he’s not really that of a genius he believed him to be. That Changmin is just like everybody else. Conforming, a piece of the world that tries hard to be normal but fails miserably, a douche, afraid, pent up in tradition, a liar, a great pretender.
He stays silent as he stares past him, can’t look at his face because its full of honesty and strength, the truth in solid beauty.
Jaejoong turns on his heels and heaves a deep breath as he fishes out cigarettes from his back pocket and waves goodbye before lighting it.
He tries to sleep off that same old headache.
Have you ever felt you heart get tired of doing summersaults?
The advances stopped. He was now just a friend. And when a week later he sees Jaejoong being himself around someone else, a girl, his heart pounds crazy against his chest.
He has a theory that he’s heart broken.
He also thinks he’s a stupid fuck who never does anything right but improvised pipes.
He admits in all its cheesy glory that his heart hurts more today than his head.
You sit next to him in class and he nods at you, “Pothead.” That’s it.
That’s it.
And then class is over.
He feels like just smashing his head into concrete to get the pain over with.
He feels heavy. Too heavy his heart’s too tired to do summersaults.
His serotonin has his turn at producing your depression hormones because he can’t help it. Its what its created to do. Changmin can’t blame it for making him feel like he is feeling now.
Somehow he feels like he brought it on himself.
He has no idea how right he is.
What you don’t understand you can make mean anything. It repeats in his head, his favorite line from that novel haunting him like its it’s job.
Like a boss. And then he shivers.
He feels like something’s lacking but couldn’t put a finger on it.
He goes home and finds his stash is running out. He calls Jaejoong and tells him he’s buying more by the end of the week.
Jaejoong tells him he can come over if he wanted to smoke. And he does.
Either, he was naïve enough to not have sensed it or he was craving that much. Stoned conversations in the midst of tension don’t usually end well.
But then again, love is one of the things we’ll all learn the hard way.
He doesn’t know his headache’s subsiding.
His heart was doing summersaults again, and it all dawns upon him the moment Jaejoong lets him into his room. That familiar room of massive stocks of vintage items and books and art and comics and toys.
He knows very well there were sitting on the floor face-to-face when Jaejoong took the first hit and then it was his turn until he’d lost count and flew off to a Cuckoo’s Nest.
Interesting how when he was sober he finds himself around Jaejoong on his bed. Sticky. Sweaty.
Changmin is a sticky, sweaty pothead.
Have you ever felt your heart so light its floating in your system?
Or maybe its just you? Still flying and not completely sober after all.
He makes sure to carve these thoughts in his conscious.
And what else do they not teach you anywhere?
How to make brain fries.
That and how exactly headaches start and suddenly disappear.
A/N: First class starts at 6PM and then this came up while I was eating lunch at home. I've been reading too much Palahniuk because I can and I don't want to stop. I'm a bit frustrated too because the last shoot we had was beyond ugly, I didn't want my name attached to it.
Monday’s bright golden rays of sunrise was burning his skin and he shifted to the shaded part of the bed sticking himself to the cool wall. He pulled the covers up over his head and grunted. Why aren’t the shades down?
A few quiet minutes later he sat up, scurried to the bathroom and bathed.
At noon he was sitting in class with a headache. That headache he’s had for a couple of weeks now. He doesn’t notice it when he begins to doze off during the lecture. “Shim Changmin!” His head snaps up and he feels his nerves quiver and beat the hell out of his brain’s surviving brain cells.
Thing is, when you’re in school, you’re forced to listen to teachers who think they’re the best out there when in fact you know more than they will ever be aware of because they live in textbooks.
Forced to study. When all you want to do is learn. There’s a world of a difference. Like being intelligent and educated, wise and smart. Teachers don’t get that drift. Pity.
At lunch he meets up with old buddies and eat out. Grab a couple of drinks, maybe. Smoke pot even. Nobody gives a shit when you’re in college. People are all, ‘I do what I want. Fuck off.’
One of the things they’ll never teach you in college is reality. Its all about ideals. Lies, most of the time. Lies are things that don’t change when times do. Same as ignorance.
He’s read it before from Chuck Palahniuk; What you don’t understand, you can make mean anything.
But sometimes its not that you don’t understand it, you just want to see things differently.
Have you ever felt your heart do summersaults?
How do you understand that?
Changmin thinks. Stoned. He’s still flying, up and up and up into an endless blank slate of hypersensitive senses and inexistent time.
He comes to class at two in the afternoon. Looking sober.
“Pothead.” He’s just the boy you’d love to ignore but you have got the same mindset and interests and wit and snark. He made you gay and you would love to curse him for that but you can’t.
His headache is gone for a while.
Have you ever felt your heart do summersaults?
Shim Changmin won’t admit it but Kim Jaejoong makes his heart do summersaults and he can’t explain how it feels exactly.
Well, at least not in this state.
Nobody will ever teach you how love really is. Its one thing you’d have to learn the hard way. Its inevitable. Like McDonald’s burgers.
Changmin expects him to understand that it won’t work.
But then, they think alike. What you don’t understand you can make mean anything, maybe he’s read it like he had.
Or, he understands, he just wants to see it differently.
Changmin is trapped.
Dear, you are trapped.
With that headache included in the package wrapped in porcelain-skinned beauty.
When your genius meets the same genius, you realize you’ve never thought of how you’d destroy yourself in a completely logical way.
Another thing no one will ever teach you is how to hit rock bottom.
Self-destruction is masturbation. He once said before.
They’ve talked about it countless times but it doesn’t wrap around his head as much as his ideas don’t dwell on his.
He wants him.
Its simple but he keeps thinking it isn’t.
“What makes it complicated? Tell me.” He’s standing in front of Changmin at his doorstep. Demanding for something that should have been in his brain since Jaejoong entered his life but there isn’t anything he can utter. Not even a simple rejection. He could lie for all he cares but he doesn’t. Not to him. And he gets pissed off and says, “Its just not simple enough.”
“Is it that complicated?”
He has no idea but Jaejoong knows he just hasn’t gotten the hang of the idea of two men being together. He’s beginning to think he’s not really that of a genius he believed him to be. That Changmin is just like everybody else. Conforming, a piece of the world that tries hard to be normal but fails miserably, a douche, afraid, pent up in tradition, a liar, a great pretender.
He stays silent as he stares past him, can’t look at his face because its full of honesty and strength, the truth in solid beauty.
Jaejoong turns on his heels and heaves a deep breath as he fishes out cigarettes from his back pocket and waves goodbye before lighting it.
He tries to sleep off that same old headache.
Have you ever felt you heart get tired of doing summersaults?
The advances stopped. He was now just a friend. And when a week later he sees Jaejoong being himself around someone else, a girl, his heart pounds crazy against his chest.
He has a theory that he’s heart broken.
He also thinks he’s a stupid fuck who never does anything right but improvised pipes.
He admits in all its cheesy glory that his heart hurts more today than his head.
You sit next to him in class and he nods at you, “Pothead.” That’s it.
That’s it.
And then class is over.
He feels like just smashing his head into concrete to get the pain over with.
He feels heavy. Too heavy his heart’s too tired to do summersaults.
His serotonin has his turn at producing your depression hormones because he can’t help it. Its what its created to do. Changmin can’t blame it for making him feel like he is feeling now.
Somehow he feels like he brought it on himself.
He has no idea how right he is.
What you don’t understand you can make mean anything. It repeats in his head, his favorite line from that novel haunting him like its it’s job.
Like a boss. And then he shivers.
He feels like something’s lacking but couldn’t put a finger on it.
He goes home and finds his stash is running out. He calls Jaejoong and tells him he’s buying more by the end of the week.
Jaejoong tells him he can come over if he wanted to smoke. And he does.
Either, he was naïve enough to not have sensed it or he was craving that much. Stoned conversations in the midst of tension don’t usually end well.
But then again, love is one of the things we’ll all learn the hard way.
He doesn’t know his headache’s subsiding.
His heart was doing summersaults again, and it all dawns upon him the moment Jaejoong lets him into his room. That familiar room of massive stocks of vintage items and books and art and comics and toys.
He knows very well there were sitting on the floor face-to-face when Jaejoong took the first hit and then it was his turn until he’d lost count and flew off to a Cuckoo’s Nest.
Interesting how when he was sober he finds himself around Jaejoong on his bed. Sticky. Sweaty.
Changmin is a sticky, sweaty pothead.
Have you ever felt your heart so light its floating in your system?
Or maybe its just you? Still flying and not completely sober after all.
He makes sure to carve these thoughts in his conscious.
And what else do they not teach you anywhere?
How to make brain fries.
That and how exactly headaches start and suddenly disappear.
A/N: First class starts at 6PM and then this came up while I was eating lunch at home. I've been reading too much Palahniuk because I can and I don't want to stop. I'm a bit frustrated too because the last shoot we had was beyond ugly, I didn't want my name attached to it.
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no subject
Date: 2011-01-20 09:31 am (UTC)He has a theory that he’s heart broken. like a slow pathway to acceptance and reality. it's just there waiting to be acknowledged. idk. this made me :(((((((
i was gonna ask, are those two characters you and you? then i read Jae and Min and I'm still like, those characters are you and you, right? this made my heart quibble in pain.. /SAD DERP FACE
no subject
Date: 2011-01-20 02:40 pm (UTC)You know me well, bb~ And I miss you.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-20 08:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-21 01:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-28 05:59 am (UTC)that line describes desilusion so well, i love it. I just love this one-shot... I've already read it a couple of times lol. Love your writting :)
no subject
Date: 2011-03-28 07:01 am (UTC)