TAKEN
1992
1992
They say we aren't welcome, people like us. That we are nothing more than freeloaders, lousy immigrants who need to 'go back to where they came from'. I'm used to that, I've always heard those words. But you, you aren't. Which is why I took pity on you, and blocked those attacks that day. Because I know how it feels to be hated, for nothing more than the structure of your face and the color of your skin. But maybe that was a mistake. Maybe not forgetting about you after we parted ways that day should have been the first sign to me to stop. But I ignored that sign, and we kept running into each other. And if life isn't hard enough for us already, now I can't stop thinking about you, wanting to touch you, wanting to be around you. And I can see that you feel the same way, because with every touch, it's almost as if neither of us ever want it to end. What we feel, has to be wrong. My parents would never go for this, because my parents raised me to be a decent man, to marry a nice girl one day and get a good job. But now that I've met you, I don't want that any more. I don't need a nice girl to marry or a perfect little a family. All I want is you. All I need is you. It's 1992, and being asian, and having feelings for someone of the same is like a death sentence.
Based in California.
TAken
GILLS&LUNGS
GILLS&LUNGS
I'm ancient, I'm rare, I'm what humans would call nowadays, non-existent, make-believe, mere fantasy. However, humans are wrong, because I'm here, I'm existent, I am real. We all are, every single being that you write off as mere fantasy or fake, is real. Hidden, but real. I was that way too once, hidden. But happened, I made a mistake, I upset the wrong person, and for the first time in all of my life, I was no longer visible. Which wouldn't be too much of a problem, as I can always hide myself even while in plain sight, conform until I can get back home. But then I met you. And you. You make it difficult, you change me. You make me never want to leave. You are my biggest weakness, and my biggest strength. I hate you, I hate being around you, I hate the effect you have on me, and yet I just can't get enough. We could never be together in the way you want, not in a million years, because we are different, you and I. I have gills and you have lungs.
taken
DOLLARS
DOLLARS
Money. I love the smell of money. And even more so, I love the smell of money right out of the ATM, right after I've just commited yet another robbery. I'll never get enough of that adrenaline rushing through my veins as I hack into another account, watching as the money transfer over to my own. As I watch the news, reporting yet another online heist, the corner of my lips twist up into a smirk. I love money, but I love the feeling of success I bet even more. And now, I have a new love in my life. You. Or rather watching you get all worked up as you try to find the thief, without even knowing that I'm right there in front of you. I know I shouldn't be this close, because it's risky. But I've always been daring, I've always loved taking risks, and I absolutely love taunting you. But as time goes on, I find myself getting more and more careless, even purposely leaving behind hints. Those dollar bills satisfy me, but you bring me a whole new feeling.
TAKEN
RED TINT
RED TINT
I'm bad. You're bad. We're bad people. We are the tainted part of society. We are the kids who went wrong. We are the sinners. We are the unworthy. Me and you, we are toxic. We are toxic for ourselves and definitely toxic for each other. But since when have people like us ever cared? We kill. We murder. We enjoy it. We love to watch as a person takes one last breath. We love to see their life flicker before their eyes. We murder and we can still sleep at night. Me and you, together. We're the world's worst nightmare. The strangler and the stabber. Strength and insanity, brought together. We're bad for the world, bad for each other. But we can't part. We never can. Because I love you, and you love me, and like they say, there is somebody for everybody. So we, the killer couple, we'll keep doing what we do best. And we will keep enjoying the red of our victims and of each other. But the question now is: Who's worse, the psychotic shanker or the brutal strangler?
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