Sin and Lace ::

[Trinity]

The Journal of a Fucked Up Girl

I've never really kept journals before, so I don't know how this will turn out. I might give up before I ever really begin, who knows? What I do know, though, is that I need someone to talk to, even if it's myself with my own thoughts and words on a screen. It's better than nothing, right?

Annabelle keeps calling me and I still haven't gotten up the nerve to change my phone number. Hell, I can't even change the ringtone, our familiar song giving me a sense of comfort. I can't help but wonder what she'd say if she could see me now, if she knew... everything. Would she still call me?

Sometimes I wonder if I should just tell her, but then I see the look in her eyes and I feel like my heart's been ripped from my chest. I know I've burned all those bridges, I've got my own conditions, my own problems - but I can't help but wonder if it's all I'm destined to do. I have done some really shitty things in my life, but I never thought for a second hurting Annabelle would have been one of them.

I could rationalize, I suppose. I could tell myself that I didn't know Antonio was her boyfriend. I could tell myself that I was swept up in the moment, but that would only get me so far. How would I rationalize my actions when I found out? How would I logically talk myself out of ******* him in her bathroom the night they broke the announcement of their engagement? How could I be so fucked up?

I could blame it on the alcohol. I could blame it on his eyes, or his magnetic charm. I could blame it on anything but myself, but it'll never make it better. She wonders why I didn't come to their wedding. How could I stand at her side and look at them speak of their loyalties, knowing that he'd be thinking of how quick he could get my dress up and inside me? It sickened me.

I'm pathetic.

It's not like I ever loved Antonio. I thought I could. The sex was fantastic, and the way he spoiled me wasn't too bad, either, but there was no deep connection. No, my problem isn't with my feelings - or lack thereof - for Antonio. My problem is with my love for Annabelle. She's been the one person to never judge me, to never say 'God, Trinity, you're too wreckless. You're going to crash and burn.' She's never been one to tell me that I lived my life too wild. She'd always had my back.

And I let her down. Big time.
And that isn't even the worse of what I've done.

There would be no way to atone for the sins I've committed. Hell, I couldn't even die right. Not that I wanted to, but it seemed I lived life to the fullest, even when I was getting my *** handed to me by some rabid **** with fangs. That's how Tate found me, blood dripping from my neck and fear in my eyes. I had to look a mess, and yet she seemed to see something in me to save me. She's much like Annabelle, in seeing past my faults, the darkness and fucked up aspects of my personality and still loving me. Yet, even she doesn't know the full story. She only knows that I ran, but no one knows exactly what I ran from.

I don't think I could ever tell them, either. No one would understand all of the things I did before starting new. I guess it doesn't matter now.

I'm as close to dead as I can get.

[Trinity]

Adjusting to this life hasn't been easy, but I won't complain (much). The pain is only a reminder of all the wrong I've committed in my life, something that I deserve. That's not to say that I particularly enjoy the feeling of my head threatening to explode at random intervals, but it's something I have to tolerate. It's more than the physical pain, though. It's deeper, mental. All the thoughts, the sounds, they seem to curl like ice through my brain, a storm that I can't control, making it to where I don't know who I am any more. Am I the woman down the street, worrying about if she left the light on? Or am I the man behind her, wondering how his wife would feel if he called in late so he could go to the movies with his secretary.

I don't like knowing peoples secrets. They have them for a reason, right? You should be safe in your own mind, and yet I often find myself lost in theirs. In a way, it offers me peace from my own thoughts, to know that the people around me commit sins just like I did. The thoughts aren't the only things that bother me, though. I've had a hard time resting these past few nights. Every time someone cocks their gun, or mutters under their breath; every single little sound is explosive in my head. I fear it's driving me insane.

I did have a moment of clarity last night, though. A friend of mine told me about a party that his family was hosting and asked me to come. I had debated on it for a while, and had eventually shown up - late. When I got there, he'd directed me to his wife's childe, someone that looked so depressed, I had to laugh. I didn't need to be a telepath to know that he was almost as fucked up as me, but I found comfort in him. Even when he was bashing my skull in. I have to admit, I need to brush up on my fighting skills, but I find more joy in hacking and using my wit then I do physical violence.

I suppose he opened my eyes, though. I can't survive in this world if I'm not strong enough. After everything had died down, we'd spent a while to ourselves in the corner. I couldn't help but taunt him, seeing that familiar fire of lust in his black eyes. I never thought I was beautiful. In fact, even though I'm an adult, I still hold the self-esteem of a teenager. Where men see luscious curves, I see fat. Where they see beauty, I see plainness. Yet, when he touched me, explored the tattoos I chose to show him (it was so amusing to see his face twist when I showed him my Eeyore tattoo, after calling him the same character), I felt almost beautiful.

It was wrong.

I had a boyfriend at home, not that I like Matthew. He didn't touch me the way Aksel did. He didn't make me feel alive the way he did. He doesn't make me feel anything but worse about myself. I think that's why I keep him around. I don't deserve to be happy, and Matthew's physical and mental abuse helps remind me of that. If Tate knew of the things that happened, or what Matthew actually was, she'd kill him and kick my *** for sure. Still, I can't help to remember the rage in Aksel's eyes when he saw the healing wound from Matthew. It looked like he had an inner battle with himself, and as much as I wanted to question it - I didn't. Instead, I excused myself quickly, praying to leave the night as a fond memory. I couldn't - and can't - be happy.

It's just not allowed for a sinner like me.

[Trinity]

It's only been a couple of nights since I last wrote down my thoughts. You would think nothing important happened in such a little time span, but then it just wouldn't be my life.

See, I live life to the fullest. I don't let anything get me down or hold me back. I'm not afraid of challenges, and perhaps that's what lead me to create my darkest of secrets. Secrets that I keep alluding to, but I'm just not ready to speak out on - even in you, journal. What would I do if someone found you, and found my secrets out?

Anyways, back on track. I swear, it's getting harder and harder to focus my thoughts, the older I get. Aksel asked me out. As juvenile as that sounds, the way he did was... different. Refreshing. He's so lost, so tormented and demented, but he asked me out by saying a puppy told him to. It was the only way that he could find the confidence to face me, I guess. I know I said happiness wasn't for me, but nothing about him says we'll be happy. So, not only do I have a boyfriend, but I also have a new puppy. Othello. I'm just not sure which one I like more at the moment. I won't get into vivid detail about how we spent out first night together, but I will say this - it takes a strong man to give me what I need, and not just in terms of satisfaction. I need to feel pain, I need to feel that I'm paying for everything I've ever done wrong in my life. That's what I had in Matthew, and I thought he was perfect for it.

After the things Aksel did, though...

I think he'll be just right for me. It's like we were fated to meet, to be together. At least, I'd believe that, if I believed in true love and happiness and fairy tales.

It's really too bad it's nothing but ******** to a cynic like me.