Life is Funny Like That

Tehn. My Most Pinterest-y Chapter

Ady's theme song. maybe mine too. it's a little hipstery and folky for me, but the lyrics, man... they get ya right here <3
i feel like i should be wearing a beanie and flannel shirt when i listen to this.
unintentional, but Tyler Heath, the lead singer is INFP. i only chose this song cuz it resonates with the chapter, but yeah, bonus! haha that's not weird at all

haa, INFP's man, the music world is crawling with them

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The wall apparently isn't strong enough, not thick enough, because if Daffy can breach it in less than two weeks, what does that mean for the rest of the world? What else will he let in? What else will break in and reek havoc?

He can't let that happen.

He can't.

There has to be a way to harden this weak heart.

Sunlight drifts across the gray couch, making the dust in the air glitter as it passes through its rays. Silver strands of hair shimmer as our protagonist slouches on the couch, his legs crossed on the coffee stand. His hands play with a loose thread on his white-washed jeans, cuffed at the ankles. A baggy, white t shirt completes the look, showing that today is Sunday and, in the weekend mood, he decided to wear something other than dark pants and a black hoodie. 

The atmosphere is strangely quiet, due to the fact that it's still morning, and the partiers upstairs are snoozing the daylight away.

It makes Sunday the best day of the week, because there's plenty of thinking to do before mundane reality crashes in with Monday. More like Mondayne, haha...***

Irma naps beneath the coffee table as the bright sunlight slowly eats up her fury body in its wake. Shadows of his plants on the window seal stretch across the floor. They happily bask in the light, leaves seeming to turn greener and greener every moment. The reason must be that Clara passed her green thumb to him.

An image of that ugly brown apron she always wore when she gardened comes to mind. Her tools peeking out of the large side pocket, and a giant spray bottle in her hand for what seemed always.

During the endless winter months, Clara would bring all her potted plants inside the kitchen which was the sunniest room in the house. She nestled them anywhere they would fit; placed between the dishes on the counters, among the jars on the pink fridge, and tied to the ceiling in macramé baskets.

At times, the kitchen would be so humid and dark, it became their own personal rainforest as dad would joke, calling it Clara's greenhouse.

The bulk of the pots never seemed to bother her as she would cook and clean around them. Stirring the pot on the stove, she'd turn around, grab the spray bottle hooked to her belt loop, and spray the spider plant and geraniums, atop the coffee pot and toaster.

And then that summer came, everything perfect until the day she decided not to water the plants. That day she went to my dad with a look in her eyes, all glossy and sad. Her face going pale and legs getting weaker by the minute. His dad knew.

And after that, the plants didn't get watered anymore. Adrian watched the leaves wilt and did his best to keep up, but there seemed to be nothing he could do to heal the brown edges, which only knew one kind heart with an amazing green thumb.

They eventually died.

Adrian's phone buzzes in his hands. He opens the message box to see that Grant replied.

yah ANW i gotchu

here's my playlist for when i wanna smash the china cabinet. it's the hardest stuff i got. known to cure any feelings you have and replace them with utter unbridled RAGE