Thread: My shitty friends and their stupid psychic parties (SomethingEsoteric, YellowSmoke

Upset, Brooklyn hated that word and hate was a strong emotion to feel, she didnt much love feeling, hate too was an emotion for the weak she didnt much like signing herself into - tolerance in place of hate meant strength, Brooklyn was always hard pressed to tolerate things for long. She raised her hand to her face and motioned like she might pinch the bridge of her nose, instead, she groaned and reached into the breast pocket of her jacket and retrieved a small pleather case, clicking it open with a little fumble and picking a pair of thick plastic glasses from within, opening the arms and pushing them up her nose to look upon Maitreya with new eyes. Just like upset, she didnt like what glasses implied. The word upset implied sadness, vulnerability, weakness she preferred angry, mad, pissed all of the above and so many more, just not upset. It took a lot of overcompensation for her to be comfortable with her insecurities and her insecurities were many in number. Glasses made her feel kinda smart, they kinda helped her headaches and eye sores when she wore them regularly, usually it was more a delayed measure far after the time they were needed, she didnt like the idea they may make her seem old, tired, falling apart which was exactly why she kept them pocketed at Stacys they were still relatively new. With a return of the rueful grin Brooklyn shifted in her seat, tapping the back of her felt wrapped wedge against the wood leg. No, no, no you got it all wrong. She huffed, First off, fuck you, she said with a certain levity behind her voice that seemed endearing, like she wasnt angry so much as well, it was like a long-time friend may casually call another a bitch then chuckle, she wasnt trying to be rude parse, if youre trying to cheer me up, dont preamble by telling me Im weak. she'd said she thought Brooklyn was stronger, it seemed to Brooklyn that was perceived as saying she was weak, second off, fuck you twice, you have plenty of tact you just have shitty timing as to when you want to use it. Evidently youre very tactful when it comes to apologies, even if you suck at them. She chuckled and turned to the bar taking a sip, almost like she was having fun, one of her hands waved with a finger out like she was coming to her next golden point of the debate shed apparently prepared for, glasses and all. She leaned back into a backing of the stool that didnt exist before coming to her next point after a little woble If a sceptic sees a ghost they're still sceptic or they cease to be, theres a difference between not believing in shit and being sceptical about it. A sniff as she turned back to her from the drink, tabulating what else she had to shoot down, correct or further debate on like conversation was a contest, something Jacquelyn had left in her, claw marks, just like the claw marks she left on every emotion she tried to let go of, most claw marks belonging to emotions Jacquelyn brought up in her. And no I dont believe what you told me, and I dont believe my mothers and past lovers lips have some sort of miraculous curative nature still not discovered by science how ever many years after the institution of modern medicine and yet when Im hurt a good kiss better sure does feel swell. She adjusted her glasses and ran her tongue along the roof of her mouth tasting tobacco and rum, rather unpleasantly, So like its like you went to kiss me better not to say I need that, and ended up fucking spitting on me or something like Im the red-headed step child. So yeah, that sucked. a little snort, amused by her own simile on the subject - that was it wasn't it? Her beginning and end? The readings were pleas for protection blankets, asking someone to tell them it was all going to be okay - and Brooklyn was apparently so strong she didn't need that reasurrance from anybody let alone a stranger. Her own deception, more aimed toward herself than anyone. This whole time shed left Matreya hanging on her toast to forging fates, I dont do fate, more wishful drinking, a Freudian slip on wishful thinking, but, a toasts a toast. So she raised her glass and clinked Matreyas. I do re-branding for a living like I go and I dont know, like, change logos and appearances typefaces pretty much I make shit look better so people want to buy it more. To be honest, I've done a lot of nice shit, they're not all trash but... I do the same thing you do, I make people believe things are better than they feel on they are on their own, you should drop the costume stuff, you look better she swallowed and shook her head, looking now where in particular before leveling eyes with Matreya real. And there it was, all out on the table, Brooklyn as real as Brooklyn got blunt and brutally honest, confronting without being entirely confrontational beyond a few vulgarities this was Brooklyn, real. real drunk, at least. -and it all felt great, like she'd really gotten to just... release , all the steam and anger, resentment and sickly sort of fear - it was gone. Problem, that just left a void, a rather remorseful kind of void. She'd just chewed out a complete stranger for being nice to her, even if it was in a playful sort of manor. Ugh, sorry - I probably owe you a drink now, Eyes going wide she nodded twice and resigned to it, fuck, eh?