|Seth Hajji (lettuce_rejoice) wrote in paxletalelogs,|
@ 2010-09-16 21:21:00
|Entry tags:||min, raijin|
Who: Mirza but open to anyone.
What: Just sittin' around, contemplating life and avoiding the telephone, yo.
When: Late in the evening of Sept. 16.
Mirza was getting tired of this journal thing. It just didn't seem like he could say the right thing whatsoever. For once in his life, he was feeling completely out of his depth and unsure of himself. That did not happen. Ever. So he had left his apartment just as his phone had started ringing. (A quick glance back had revealed that it was his boss, Tony. Nooooo thank you.) Honestly, he hadn't even bothered to put on shoes or a shirt and had just taken his keys with him since all he was going to do was sit on the stairs between the fourth and third floors.
The arches of his feet were aching already even as he sat on the stairs halfway down. Or was that pessimistic? No, it was down as he had been walking down. It wasn't a glass half empty/full moment. He rested his elbows on a stair behind him and leaned back as much as he could without being uncomfortable. Maybe this move had been a bad idea. Alright, he couldn't rightly stay in a building that was going to be torn down but maybe he should have kept looking or something. Then again, he had to remind himself that not everyone was going to like him no matter how much it hurt his poor, tender heart.
He tapped his fingernails on the stairs, looking up at the ceiling like it was going to help him. "Oh what to do, what to do," he muttered to himself. He just could not decide.