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Don't make me sad, don't make me cry. Sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough. [...] Come take a walk on the wild side. Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain. You like your girls insane. So, choose your last words, this is the last time. 'Cause you and I, we we're born to die.
Born To Die (Lana Del Rey, 2012)
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Looking back on, she had learned various things that year. That she couldn't escape her past. That she could almost outrun it only to find it waiting for her in someone's open palms. That she could try to discard her feelings, try to control where she was going, but whatever it was that life intended to throw at her, no matter where she was or what she was doing, drinking ice-cold lemonade and feeling invulnerable, it would eventually reach her.
She learned that worrying about the future or worrying about the past wouldn't change anything. The present was sitting out there, changing every single day, and she had already lost too many opportunities choosing to stay fit in her skin. Or maybe she hadn't lost them. Maybe they hadn't even been meant for her in the first place. She hadn't figured that out yet, but she would eventually. Or maybe not.
This was the year she didn't see coming. She had been selfless for so long that she had become selfish. She couldn't have imagined ever holding someone as close to her as she did that year. Or look at her past dead in the eye and take it's fingers off her throat one by one. She had believed that that boundless, uncomfortable weight of a promise would never be hers. She hadn't met that dry wind yet that blows inside you, searching, scouring. Hungry enough to swallow the world, to unfold the ocean.
The bird was beating its way out of her chest. It wanted to take flight to the sky. She closed in tight around its wings. She wanted to release it. She didn't know how to release it. It left her bleeding.
One day, she understood that she could not keep her heart safe. One day, fate stared straight down at her, and she stared right back at it and shrugged her shoulders. One day, she fell down to the floor and was comforted by the fact that she could no longer fall. One day, love took everything from her. Once day, she stopped being the person she had been.
The swaying and flickering within her unmoored heart had begun to crescendo. She'd grown to realize in the presence and absences alike, the feeling had been a lot of things. It was every dream she had ever conjured in her lonely mind, blooming against empty midnight thoughts in their most wild state. It was an abundance of horrible feelings that extended past the boundaries that she had set for herself.
She learned various things that year.
It was the year that was worth the heartbreak it brought.
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(Jennifer Lawrence) Rose Kazansky ✷ Sparrow XXVIII. Cancer. Cherry, Lana Del Rey. In My Sheets, John Vincent III.
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(Miles Teller) Bradley Bradshaw (All Others) As Described
Notes I do not own Top Gun, characters, writing, or storyline. I do however own Rose Kazansky and her storyline and the added dialogue.
Disclaimer This book will be dealing with mentions of death, blood, suicidal ideation, and implications of sexual assault. I will not be putting individual warnings on chapters. If you are sensitive to any of these topics, please do not read this.
