[youandthatfuckingMASK.take.it.offfffffff.]

Describing. Because.
November lives in the corner of the little house, in the kitchen slash hallway area, where the chandelier made of plastic used tohang and the light would sometimes hit just so.
--/doyouknowwhonovemberis?--no.itisachild. it is the weeping child, the guilt, the fear. the sociophobe the one who does everything wrong the emotional cripple. it's a ghost now, Sab killed it a long time ago, locked the corpse in the white room -- everything is white with november, no color no soul no voice poor child. weep with me
gettingsidetracked:// in the week or so before it died i could hear it crying. had the voice of a little boy. just like my brothers. so scared. so so so. it. hurt to listen to. sent Sab into rages because of what it did to One, when she could hear it. it just stung. burned. froze. drowned. overwhelming and so very slow and so very fast. chemical.
--/all the crying in the world could never help november.
--/and I flinch every time I read the word. November. every mention of the cheshire. every time I see the [foxdragon?whatisheanyway?]. because it's like I've stolen something. even though it's just a name. it's like I've taken and and raped it and beat it to death for stupid, selfish reasons. but in the back of my mind I can't stop listening to the dead child cry.
backtotherails:// The house exists on a million levels at once. It's hard to describe. Neverland is dreams and in dreams nothing has to make sense. Weather becomes mood becomes dimensions. When november's around the clouds are an angry grey, pounding their vomit upon the windows while silent cars cross outside. The lighting is so beautiful, but it all looks underwater, you feel like you're drowning anyway the way your chest tenses up. A lot of emotion can kill.
November itself is almost never seen--it's a true ghost, glimpsed on the edge of vision and the tip of your tongue. You can hear it and turn and catch a momentary pattern across your retina--but it won't really be there. It lives in the walls, it lives in the spiderwebs, it lives everywhere and nowhere at all because it doesn't feel it belongs anywhere, has no right to exist in the first place. Sab can see it, clear as day. It's her goddamn house in her goddamn world, she can see everything if she wants to. But she never touches november. It's beyond help, and she has no use for it.
Rainy days, nights where you can't sleep for the sensations forming in your head. Cold and grey and wet. 11.
switchtracks:// The Queen, the Queen, the King's whore. She calls herself Euphoria, or maybe it's just what Sab calls her, and it fits to a ridiculous degree. You should see them together. You should see them, at all. I wish I could draw what they really look like to me, they're both so fucking beautiful. Sab is like the gamekeeper, the warden, the. I don't even know. How can you describe a personality in a sentance? How can you describe it in a thousand sentances?
She's just. So forceful. So direct. So enthusiastic. So colorful. [herhairchangesfromdaytoday] She's brutal but in a loving manner [canyouevenunderstand] she's loud and violent and swears like a sailor and hates mornings and wants to rip everybody's throat out and her laugh is like the Joker's and she jumps around like an anime character, gravity doesn't even fucking matter.
And and and. But but but. She's so amazing on the outside and so amazingly hideous on the inside. And I can see it and it only makes her more beautiful to me. The fears. The little ones she pretends aren't there, the big ones she can't let anybody know about, the reason for the mask/s. The the the. I wish I could describe her.
Euphoria is her polar opposite and in her way a lot like One. I think Sab refused to ever admit that she loved the girl, even after she killed her. But it was a kind of desperate, grasping sort of love. Hers and Euphoria's is pure. I don't know how. It doesn't make any sense at all that they should even get along, let alone that Sab's let her live this far. It's just. I can look inside them both and see how perfect they are when they come together. Soul meets soul when eyes meet eyes but neither of them have and they can see it anyway does that mean something?
She's pale. Some sort of insect. Quiet and shy and fragile and tall. She wears bondage pants and mistmatched shirts that should've died in the seventies and thinks she's the ugliest thing in the universe but she moves like a breath across sand, like silk caught on the breeze. She has candystriped lips and thinks this means she's nothingness, thinks the stripes on her legs and hands are like Filth given birthmark. Sab's tattooed her throat with a MEK flashing arrow pointing downt to the collar embedded in her skin, it's a choke chain--
and oh that I could define how good it is, though it seems cruel and wrong and like a cage, but Sab is her protector and acts only in her best interests, because Euphoria may be weak but she has to carry the strongest burden of all, on her chest is tattooed the heart and there is nothing she can ever do to take it off. Sab keeps her in line, keeps her from hurting herself, like what she tried to do with One but now it's like she's just so much more mature -- being effigy has been good to her . . .
. . . there's just so much to say about them and no way or reason to say it. Le sigh.

And half of me feels stupid even talking about it.
I wasgoing totalkabout goingtotalkabout
the house.
Little house. Tiny house. Built in the 1930's, if I recall correctly. There's ivy painted on the walls of the kitchen and the attic is carpeted and warm [walls alight with the paintings that never were, a child's dragons fighting knights against a dark blue sky]. It's all just memories but it's a fish tank, distorted and . . . I keep making references to being underwater but that's the only way I can think of for it, so slow and muffled and cool and good.
--/Outside, the garden is really where it becomes Neverland. There's a tree that was never there in reality and instead of leaves it has playing cards, trading cards, something that size, hanging by white string, and on one side of each is a motion picture. A memory. It scared Sab, when the house first came to be here, that tree was like something sacred and she knew she'd destroy it to touch it -- or the other way around. But now she's master of all things and knows it is what it is. Whenever you look at the tree it's early morning fog, sun not yet over the trees in the distance but rays of it poking up like spotlight and illuminating everything with a yellow-ish glow. Crows live all around but refuse to sit in the tree itself, only a pair of white doves lives in the tree and you can almost never see them, and they can only be heard when you're looking away. Only on the edge of your hearing, a tickle in the back of your throat.
--/The garden is magnificent -- but it also leads into the heart of Deadog, the remnants of Red Sam, the first garden that never-was where the dog died and from which Sab made everything she thought she wanted.
--/Places from Deadog still exist--the jungles, the swamp, the garden. But they've merged with Wunderland's white beauty and no longer are as rotten and wrong as they once were. From the melding of the two kingdoms comes something that seems strong enough to stand on its own for once.
And I hope it can. I'm sick to death of these neverending spirals of change and leaving all I loved behind. I'm still honestly very pissed off about Torpor's death, I still miss the Brother's like they're a hole in my brain, I still miss Freedom Fries' innocent childness . . . . I miss I miss I miss. I just want everything to stay where it should be, not fade away all the time.
Is it too much to ask? It's too much to ask.

And then one morning Euphoria woke up and an hour later Sab was throwing her against the wall [whatdidyoudowhatdidyoudo] and she bears new bruises and it's like everything. is just. the same.
Nothing ever CHANGES. it just dies. again and again and again and again.
And she told me. TOLD ME. That this would happen. And I KNEW it would. But. I couldn't stop it. Can't stop the heart. Can only lessen the damage. Try to recover faster. Try to pretend like nothing's fucking wrong.

[didyouSEEthat.didyouseeitdidyouseeit.
andthenshe'sall, OHHHHHwhathaveyoudone
shutitshutup.
but she's RIGHT.
and it HURTS.
or at least SUCKS.
damn it.]

hahaha[stripes=no]cunt
and Sab is back to screaming and hitting and swearing and
it's like the chain doesn't even matter
and Euphoria doesn't know what to do with herself or
if it was something she did or said
or didn't do or didn't say
and november's in the kitchen
and november's in the kitchen
Sab is throwing things around
Euphoria's trying not to vomit in the sink
november's in the kitchen
november's in the kitcen
[ishouldwritesongs]
butsomewheresomewhereshestops
and in that split second black voids meet each other
and a little twitch of a grin
a scared grin
a needy grin
a loving grin
and it's all okay
it's just the weather outside.
[storms]

.come get your knife.