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Post by macca64 on Mar 8, 2005 21:46:10 GMT -5
u see i would rehister if i had a email adress but since i have little time o make one i dont have one and since i dont have one i cant get my password.unless theres another way i really cant. sorry.
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Post by me on Mar 9, 2005 4:16:52 GMT -5
Awwww. *Happy*
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Post by me on Mar 9, 2005 4:17:29 GMT -5
u see i would rehister if i had a email adress but since i have little time o make one i dont have one and since i dont have one i cant get my password.unless theres another way i really cant. sorry. aww, too bad then. It's fun here  |
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Post by lookingthroughyou on Mar 9, 2005 16:35:44 GMT -5
Jane smiled hesitantly seeing paul’s smile. She looked down.
“To tell you the truth, Paul, I don’t know why I came back. Seeing you again just makes..” She looked at him, tears brimming in her eyes. “It makes it hurt more. I hate breaking up like this. I love you so much…and yet I’m not ready to be with you again. Why did I come?” He went over and hugged her.
“I understand.” He whispered into her ear. She sniffed quietly, and relaxed into him. “I hate you…but I love you.” she sobbed into his shoulder. He closed his eyes and savoured having her near him. He pulled her to the couch, and the two of them fell asleep, Jane’s head on his shoulder.
Several hours later Paul awoke to find Jane scuffling hurriedly around his apartment, grabbing her things and stuffing them into her bag. “Uunhg..where ya goin’ Jane luv?” She muttered quietly to herself more than him,
“It’s all a mistake. I shouldn’t have come back. I’m going to Peter’s house, call me there. I’m not coming back again, Paul.” She looked him in the eye. “I can’t. It’s not right. Please?” She shook her head slowly. She ran over to him a kissed him gently on the cheek. “Sorry.” She said breathlessly, and ran out the door.
Paul sat for a minute, bewildered. He sighed angrily, and grabbed a smoke out of his pocket. He puffed on it, still confused about her meaning. What was wrong with getting back together? He whistled a tune, unhappily, and flicked cigarette ash across the room. He quickly grabbed a piece of paper out of his pocket, humming, and scribbled down some words.
“I’m looking through you, where did you go?”
He sighed heavily and crumpled up the paper, then threw it across the room. He lay down on the couch again, and closed his eyes. Fucking Jane, fucking Beatles. His life was too complicated for him to comprehend.
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Post by me on Mar 9, 2005 16:50:26 GMT -5
Geez, why did she do that? Giving him false hope....  |
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Post by Paul'sbird on Mar 9, 2005 18:23:18 GMT -5
Bad Jane! teasing poor Paulie like that
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Post by Icee on Mar 9, 2005 19:34:45 GMT -5
Liv..... That was the best thing ever  |
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Post by lookingthroughyou on Mar 11, 2005 19:11:59 GMT -5
sar! update. now. you know you want to.
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Post by me on Mar 12, 2005 5:39:02 GMT -5
Yeah and You know we want you to do it.
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Post by dude41 on Mar 12, 2005 18:16:04 GMT -5
PEASE UPDATE!!!!!!!!!!!
*gets on knees and starts to beg* PLEASE UPDATE,PLEASE PLEASE UPDATE!!!
*gets off knees and brushes them off* but please update this is an awesome story!!!woohoo ;D
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Post by Icee on Mar 15, 2005 23:12:21 GMT -5
Sooooooooooon.  |
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Post by dude41 on Mar 15, 2005 23:19:11 GMT -5
Okay Let the genious work!!!
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Post by wrestlingdog on Mar 16, 2005 7:53:22 GMT -5
You better! Or we'll peer pressure you! *gangs up with the trest of the loyal fans*
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Post by ibrake4whales on Mar 16, 2005 20:58:01 GMT -5
MUST HAVE MORE!!!!!!!!!!
soo sad!!!! but good at the same time!!!
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Post by Icee on Mar 20, 2005 22:49:50 GMT -5
Paul just sat there for hours, smoking cigarette after cigarette.
This time it was different, he didn't know what he did wrong. He was just..sleeping..and she left.
Maybe he muttered someone elses name in his dream. He thought to himself, after thinking for atleast another two hours he recieved a massive migraine. His body wasn't built for this sort of depression.
He sunk back into the corner, near the kitchen cupboards, and opened a book, the first one he grabbed.
It was John's 'In his own write". Paul threw the book away from him violently and frowned.
Why must John be so fucking happy? Why the fuck does he get everything he fucking wants?
Paul didn't realise John was in as much pain and agony as he was.
John still mourned for his mother, reliving memories of the tragic loss, and then his father. That obnoxious bastard. John's sister, Julia, and his aunt Mimi, was probably the only thing keeping him alive.
He felt angry about Julian and Cynthia. He never felt so ashamed in his life.
He knew he let them down, and he couldn't go back now. He knew he couldn't change anything.
George's life wasn't so pleasant at the moment either.
Taking these drugs with the rest of them wasn't necessarily what George needed at this point in time.
The only thing that made him happy, was his instruments. Not even Pattie could do anything to help him anymore.
But they did better at covering up than Paul did.
Infact, the only person who didn't have trouble was Ringo.
Ringo was lucky to be alive, as a sick child he was told he would probably not live long. And he spent most of his childhood in the hospital.
Yet here they all were. Centre of attention to the whole world.
And they couldn't help it.
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