#those stupid fucking guitar strings gave me so much trouble for NO REASON

[prisma-palace]

call me sick or crazy . . . call me what you’d like!

+bonus version without the lyrics

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Kiwi 2

previously on Kiwi

I know you play guitar, but if I were a drum, I’d let you bang me all night.

Lexa smiled to herself as she read the message. It was cute and it was really funny, though she wasn’t sure what it might mean, or if it was just a laugh for the stranger on the other end. Once more, to reacquaint herself, she looked through the pictures of the blonde with the terrible pick up line. Morning was there, and she didn’t mind it because she didn’t leave the bed. She had time to peruse someone’s manufactured self.

The first, the stranger was blowing a kiss at the camera, all squinted and adorable, with a kind of sultriness to her. She was all blonde hair and a square face. The next she was muddy from a marathon, smiling so wide her cheeks were tugging at her eyes, as she held a medal up, surrounded by a group of people dressed in a similar fashion. The last, she was at a bar and pouring shots, giving the camera a nice little wink.

All that Lexa could tell was that she was pure trouble, but by far the most interesting person she came across in her meandering around the app. No one gave her a good pick up line and looked like that in a sports bra. She should have deleted the app. Her sister would have told her to do that. Her manager would have told her to do that. But Lexa had a self-destructive streak that she often forgot she didn’t have full control of just yet.  

The radio thing was over, and so she should have turned off the app, or deleted it completely-- she knew that. Today, she had a full day of rehearsals and meetings. She didn’t have to respond to the wild child of a girl. The message came at three in the morning, and Lexa assumed it was with the help of a drink or two.

But she sure as hell did. Lexa had addictions. She had plenty of them. One of them was pretty girls who looked like they’d leave her with a hangover in her heart. And since she wasn’t allowed to partake of her other proclivities, she sure as hell messaged back.

I do play guitar, and I’d sure like to strum your g-string.

It was short, it was flirty, it was terrible and hopefully funny enough. Lexa was oddly rusty with the entirety of the whole thing. She was an amateur at online flirting and bad pick up lines, but it felt right. But as soon as she sent it, she felt the tinge of embarrassment that would follow her for possibly the rest of her life if no one answered.

With a sigh, Lexa finally opened her curtains and greeted the day.

“Strum your g-string,” Clarke read with a squint as she chuckled to herself.

The light of the day was squarely in the sky, and she was still tired and oddly smelling like stale beer despite her best efforts. Her bartender hours didn’t mesh so well with her passion projects, but still, she woke herself up around noon.

For some reason, before bed, she remembered perusing the stranger’s profile again, attempting to determine who would use such a terrible choice as a catfish. Clearly everyone would know Lexa Woods. Clearly, everyone would know it was not her. There certainly was just no possible way that she was flirting with that Lexa Woods.

Fresh out of those, but if you want, you can tickle my ivories anytime, girl.

Satisfied with herself, she smiled and let her phone fall to her chest as she dug the heel of her palm into her eyes and tried to find some kind of energy to confront the waiting day. Her upstairs neighbor was already vacuuming. Her downstairs neighbor was already listening to the news at an obscene volume. In reality, she’d never sleep again, she decided. But she could afford the shit hole on the fourth floor, and that was where she remained. Debt-free and comfortable enough, which was somewhat of a leg up on some of her former classmates who were neck deep in debt and brunching away the pain.

I have been known to finger more than a guitar. I’m Lexa, by the way.

To her credit, Clarke wasn’t sure why she found herself answering a fraud. Maybe it was stupid optimism. Maybe it was boredom. Maybe it was sleep deprivation. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t come close to getting laid in too long to admit. Either way, she thought it was a nice distraction from the tedium of her internship.

She thought over her response, carefully calculating it as she slid on old jeans and a shirt, brushed her teeth, grabbed her bag, and emerged into the world on her way to the studio. In just under ten minutes, she was rushing through the door and out into life, no time for much thought towards living.

It was getting complicated now that it wasn’t just pick up lines.

You’re Lexa Woods, and I’m Gwyneth Paltrow.

She didn’t mean to do it, but as she climbed down to her subway, Clarke slipped in her headphones and found herself playing a familiar song that dominated the radio recently-- one that she couldn’t escape, and oddly enough didn’t want to just yet. She hummed along and tucked into the book she borrowed from her neighbor as she slushed her way across town.

The internship was an accident, one that she still wasn’t certain how she got, though she was not looking any horses in the mouth. All she did was run around and get coffees for her boss, but sometimes, she got to watch him work, and that was more than enough. He also critiqued her work, from time to time. It was mostly negative, but she was still finding herself, he promised. She snorted at how real it was.

I’ve met her, and you look nothing like Gwyn. Though, I suppose your pictures could be a rouse to seduce a silly singer such as myself.

Clarke mulled as she handed out coffees. Her boss stole all of her attention as they began to pack up for a photoshoot at the park. She didn’t think about the stranger for at least fifteen minutes. Of course, she couldn’t really stop.

And Lexa Woods is really on Tinder. You didn’t steal those pictures?

“Tell me what lens you would use,” her boss interrupted. She shoved her phone into her pocket.

Clarke didn’t stop moving. She missed her friend’s texts about plans for that night. She tossed herself into her passion, excited to just be there, to soak up what she could, even half-exhausted from her long night at work and the night in front of her. For just a bit, she was eager to learn and become better.

She is, and she’s chatting you up. How am I doing so far? Should I tell you that I find you gorgeous or funny, first?

Once again, Clarke found herself putting headphones into her ear as she traversed the city toward job number three. She closed her eyes for a moment and let the chill of the window and the rocking of the cars rock her softly. This was sometimes all she got for a few days. She listened more intently than ever before to the words that came out over the thick guitar. For some reason, she almost believed she could hear something different in the voice.

You always start with gorgeous. Didn’t they teach you anything in rockstar school?

What if. What if, Clarke asked herself.

I don’t know if I’d call myself a rockstar. Just a musician is fine. What is it you do, gorgeous girl?

I’ll tell you about me when you prove your not a weird, middle-aged man.

That felt like enough of a challenge. Proud of herself, Clarke climbed the steps and emerged in the city, now without sunshine and effectively night. With a glance at her watch, she set off a little quicker toward the bar.

“Well, it was fun while it lasted,” Lexa sighed as she tossed her phone to the side and toyed with her guitar a little more.

All was quiet in her living room as she sat on the floor and tapped her pen against the notebook beside her. The only reason she had furniture was because her sister made her. She was more comfortable on the floor. She felt less distracted when she was uncomfortable.

But her sister got her way, and the apartment had furniture. It had a nice long sofa, which was Lexa’s only stipulation-- she had to fit on it. The kitchen was fully stocked and decked out in all manner of gadgets, though she stuck with avoiding an open flame to cook. There was art on the walls, somewhat. Mostly gig posters and pieces that the decorator swore were expensive. It wasn’t huge or grand or even luxurious, at least not comparably, but it was starting to feel like home, and as a creature of habit, Lexa was almost sad to leave it. She kept it spartan and simple because that helped keep her mind focused.

Unfortunately, that also meant she had nothing else to think about beside the girl on her phone. There was half a song she’d been toying with half-heartedly, but that wasn’t nearly as interesting, nor did it look half as good in a low-cut shirt.

She didn’t want to prove who she was to the stranger. She kind of liked the snark that came with thinking she was just someone else on the internet. It didn’t stop her though. With a stupid face, she snapped a picture and sent it.

Would you like one with a newspaper and the date as well?

It hadn’t been quick responses, and so she didn’t expect the noise on her phone so quickly, though she practically jumped at the chance to see the reply. For the entire day, she felt herself glancing more toward her phone than normal. Often, she forgot it or handed it off to Indra. She liked being present in the moment, and she liked proving that she was a hard worker, now. But for some reason, she was eager to check between every interview and during every spare moment. But that was fine. It was strictly because she hadn’t had sex in two months and she was a masochist.

Well fuck me. I just used terrible and gross pick up lines on Lexa Woods. If you need me, I’ll just be digging a hole to crawl into.

Lexa chuckled at the reply and did a little shimmy of victory, though for what, she wasn’t entirely sure just yet.

To be fair, mine were worse. It’s nice to meet you Clarke. I’m heading out of town for a bit, and I think I’m going to delete this app, but if you want to chat, here’s my number.

‘Heading out of town for a bit’ meant a small Australian tour.

Clarke stared at her phone as she scrolled through the Twitter feed, the most recent update a picture of a small suitcase and a guitar by a large door in what must be the singer’s apartment. It was captioned ‘homeward bound in a few hours.’

She alternated between googling the singer and trying to figure out if it was really her, and not a picture from somewhere that she missed, and the blank message with a rock stars phone number. As soon as the picture came through though, she knew she wouldn’t find it anywhere else-- it was her.

There was a video she watched of a live performance and swallowed. There couldn’t have been anymore more beautiful than Lexa with the guitar and the rolled up sleeves and the messy hair and the long necklace and the tattoo peaking out on her bicep and the way she closed her eyes and sang.

Clarke clicked around and saw more pictures, saw more stories. She never thought to think about Lexa Woods. She just knew her in general. Now she felt like a super stalker.

Her heart went a little numb though, when the next video to play was from a few days before at a local radio station where Lexa, sure enough, was on Tinder, fielding random girls with limited to no success. So she was on the app. That didn’t mean she was talking to Lexa Woods though.

If you’re Lexa Woods, post a picture on Twitter of you, with the name of your favorite president written on your hand, and a backwards hat, with your left eye closed.

Satisfied with it, she texted the stranger and went back to scrolling in the wee hours of her after-work haze. There was no real reason that a superstar would be messaging her, or keep messaging her. It didn’t make sense at all. It wasn’t what Clarke needed.

What she did need, however, was sleep. She needed to focus on her life and the internship that was running her ragged, combined with her own small photography business of stupid wedding pictures and, on her off days, bands and artists, coupled with two bartending jobs to pay the rent. Clarke could barely breathe, and she didn’t have time for a gross, elderly dude pretending to be someone else.

I’m currently somewhere over the Atlantic. Wasn’t I charming enough for you to believe me?

Clarke snorted.

They were pretty impressive lines.

How do I know you’re really the beautiful girl from the pictures?

She hadn’t expected that part. But Clarke couldn’t expect for her to prove it, and not herself. It all made sense, and so she snapped a picture. Actually, she snapped twelve, before deciding on one.

Wow. Yeah, you’re gorgeous. This is a problem.

You’re up next, hot stuff.

Can’t we just get to know each other?

I’ll keep it cool, but there’s no way I can take you seriously if I’m not sure who you are.

Dammit.

There was a kind of dread and hope that  happened at the same time. Clarke opened up Twitter on her phone and tugged down, refreshing it repeatedly. The more minutes that ticked by, the more convinced that she’d never hear from that number again. She hadn’t realized she’d hoped for it though.

About twenty minutes later, her phone buzzed, though she’d long since fallen asleep. Not even the vibration made her aware that things were happening.

There you go, princess.

Hi. I’m Clarke.

Lexa smiled to herself as she read the message when she woke. Something about being back home, and two oceans away from the stranger was oddly comforting. She didn’t mind the travel, and she certainly didn’t mind tugging herself away from the temptation.

Do you feel weird now, knowing it’s really me?

Her clock said it was just after ten, but she felt as if she’d been awake for years. Though she did nap on and off during the flight, something about waiting for a response kept her from an easy rest that normally came when she travelled. Hell, Lexa considered herself an expert on sleeping anywhere, anytime.

When she opened the curtains of her room, she saw Sydney in all of its sunshine and glory. It’d be hot and miserable out there, and she was ready for it. A year ago she wouldn’t have been excited to go running, but now she craved the hurt that came with it. It was a new addiction.

It definitely changes things a little. But who wouldn’t dream of being chatted up by you?

I should warn you-- I’m much better at this in person.

“Hey, Lex,” a knock at her door wiped away the smile and the apparent pacing she was doing, unable to keep still. “We’re going to grab some breakfast, want to come?”

“I’m going for a run,” she smiled as she opened the door. “Isn’t it just a great day?”

“Should I be worried?” Anya furrowed, balancing the baby on her hip. “You’re in a really good mood.”

“We’re home. I’m high on life. I’m about to go for a run, and then I’ll meet you for breakfast, okay?”

“You’re going to crash. You barely slept on the plane.”

I might hold you to that when you get back ;)

“I’ll be fine,” she shrugged and tugged on an old shirt and shoving her phone in a pocket. “I’m going to meet Gus downstairs.”

With a kiss of her nephew’s cheek and one for her sister, she made her way down the hall and toward her bodyguard in the lobby who got her into running.

I really hope you do.

Lexa was home and flirting with a girl on purpose, of her own volition, and not because it was expected or required. It was about making her own decisions, and ever since everything that her past few years were, she felt ridiculously good about such a simple decision.

Consider it a date then.

Should we get the first date questions out of the way then?

Clarke stopped right on the stairs as she climbed out from her subway ride. Done with her internship and on her way to a gig taking some pictures, she shivered slightly as the cold came down in a whipping wind from the street. People pushed past her and just two days ago she was a perfectly normal member of society.

With a shake of her head she made her way out into the world, adjusting the strap on her shoulder, the heavy bag carrying the precious camera supplies she’d saved and scraped everything she ever made, to own.

For a solid three hours, she was able to forget that there was a grammy-winner waiting for a reply.

Then what would we do on the first date?

There weren’t many nights that Clarke found herself without work. Her schedule was tight and she liked it like that. Kept her busy, kept her focused, kept her out of too much trouble, or at least the kind that she didn’t choose. She definitely chose a lot of it.

“I need to talk to you,” Clarke said as she reached over the bar and poured herself a drink, not bothering to wait for her best friend. “It’s urgent.”

“Everything okay?” Raven furrowed and watched the weird behavior.

There wasn’t enough time to answer and drink, so Clarke took a shot and let out a shaky breath. For some reason, she’d been holding it in like a secret, and it was too much. She couldn’t handle it. She wasn’t as cool or calm or collected as she originally intended.

After pouring herself another one, she locked eyes with her best friend and waited for the words to come, her jaw set tight and firm while she gripped the glass tightly.

“I’m currently flirting with Lexa Woods. Yes, that Lexa Woods. She has my phone number and we’ve been flirting, and she’s charming and hot and I am this close,” Clarke explained, holding up her fingers so that they were very close together, “From believing that this is something that could happen. That I get to hook up with the most gorgeous and talented girl on the planet. I need you to pinch me and break my phone, in that order.”

When she was done talking, Clarke tossed back the drink and hissed again, the liquor making its way deep into her belly, burning a hole right through her.

Despite the noise from the surrounding customers, despite the music playing and the day-to-day sounds of the bar, all she could hear was the thumping of the blood in her ears as the booze made her feel queasy. The booze and Lexa Woods.

“I need more of an explanation to go on than this,” Raven finally ventured, shaking her head. “I don’t think--”

“It’s her,” Clarke nodded, pulling out her phone and holding it up with the messages. “I made sure.”

She poured herself a generous drink once more while her friend leaned over the counter and read everything, her eyes growing wide when she got to the picture.

“What would we talk about on the first date,” Raven read, still amazed. “She answered, did you see it? Just your breakfast order. Damn. That’s good.”

“I am getting hit on by Lexa Woods,” Clarke repeated, pouring another. “Help me.”

To her credit, Raven looked back at the phone before taking the bottle away. She put the phone down in front of her friend, beside the glass of vodka and softened slightly. There was such a look of worry that she wasn’t sure how to convince Clarke that it was alright.

“Finn was a dick who cheated on you, left your bruised and fucked, and you need to get rid of him in your head. You have the chance to fuck Lexa Woods. What could make you forget someone else quicker?”

At first, she wanted to argue, but Clarke considered the words and snapped her mouth shut as she stared at her phone.

Promise me you won’t fall in love, or make me fall in love with you.

As soon as she sent it, she downed her drink and collapsed on the stool, letting her head toss back and forth in a wallowing and miserable state. Her friend just chuckled and patted her back as best she could from behind the bar.

I would never dream of it. You and me and absolutely no emotions. I get back the day after Christmas.

French toast and coffee with two creams and two sugars.

NEXT

[indiff3r3nt-minds]

1.) because you stayed up till 4 am, in the cold January wind, just to stay in range of wifi, just to talk to me, like there was never going to be another opportunity. 2.) the first time you brought me a cup of coffee from your ‘second mom’s’ kitchen, you made it exactly perfect; and i realized that maybe I was not as hard to please as people made me seem to be. 3.) the first time your hands touched me, they were so gentle, with my fragile skin, and so warm when intertwined in my tiny, baby hands; I’d never believed in soulmates or whatever, but God, in that moment, I could have been convinced otherwise. 4.) you connected with my son, the second time you saw him, he let you hold him without fuss, and even fell asleep to the beat of your heart…you’ll never know that when I went home, I cried my eyes out because I was so happy that someone was able to love him the way I saw you did, in your eyes…I also cried because I couldn’t understand why my son’s own father, couldn’t even text to set up arrangements for him to see him; you showed me then and there that good men still exist. 5.) you always save me at LEAST half of your food, and even when I say “i’m not hungry” you make sure that I’ve eaten something everyday, and when you don’t get a response you make me eat anything to nourish my body; for whatever reason, my eating habits were something you were and are still determined to change-that’s a first, with anyone besides piper. 6.) when I was hurled over in pain, and couldn’t stand up or barely walk because of my stomach, you immediately dropped everything we needed to do, and rushed me to the ER…and even though you hate hospitals, and you had a to-do list that evening, you cancelled all your plans and sat with me in that hospital for 6 hours, and yelled at nurses and doctors for not giving me pain medicine when I was obviously in excruciating pain; after they finally caved and gave me some, my body was numb and we laughed the whole night at my “drugged up” sub-conscious, who was constantly spilling secrets about her feelings. 7.) i like the little smirk you do, when you’re trying very hard not to smile big because of all my stupidity, but nothing beats the warmth I feel in my heart when you finally bust out that beautiful, open, teeth showing smile; I may not see it often, but god it makes the wait so much more worth it. 8.) The little tangents you start to drift onto, during late night conversations. I may not always understand what you’re talking about, but it’s so damn nice to see the spark in your eyes when you’re talking about things you are passionate about; I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, because then you’d understand why you are so damn special to me. 9.) You never lied. You never had to. We were always straight up with one another, and could tell each other just about anything; And even when I misunderstood, or didn’t hear right, and had an attitude, demanding the truth, you never once yelled, or barked back, or even made up excuses, or tried to reason with me; you calmly walked me through what you were saying and made sure I understood every single part, and then never wanted an apology afterwards. 10.) You made me feel beautiful. You were always staring at me, when I wasn’t looking, or engrossed in conversation or my phone, you never wanted to take your eyes off me, I never understood why, but that didn’t matter to you, you did. You knew why, and you loved to see all of my perfection and flaws together, mixed in perfect harmony to make up this person that I’ve become…I was on display for you to discover; you found me in my most vulnerable form and didn’t flinch when I opened up about my past, you invited all of it in, and kissed every scar with a promise of never having to experience those things again. 11.) Your arms were like coming home…when I was wrapped up in your squeeze, I was never afraid, and never alone, because I was more than confident that you would never purposely hurt me. I began to accept that maybe, I could fall in love with you; Mamaw died, on our third or fourth day hanging out, and all you did was sit quietly, wrapped in a blanket with me, arms around my body, and my head on your shoulder, while I cried. In that moment, I couldn’t have imagined any other person who could’ve made me feel safe to open up, and made me feel like I was safe to talk about things. You didn’t judge me when I had mascara and eyeliner all over my shirt, your shirt, the blankets and the couch..you just kept telling me it was okay, and for the first time ever, I actually believed you that it would be. 12.) You spoke through music, which was frustrating but sexy at the same time…The look on your face when you played was so beautiful, I didn’t want you to ever stop! You used to put Colton on your lap, and let him pick at the guitar strings without getting angry, you just kept on playing, even if he messed you up. You used to get onto me for apologizing for my son’s curiosity, and it was made clear that he didn’t annoy you, but made you happy to be around; in the shower that night, I cried tears of joy because you accepted this whole chaotic world that comes with me. 13.) You did absolutely anything to make me happy. Literally, anything, I name it, you would do it, if it meant that I was happy; for Ash’s prom, I was her date, but you got dressed up just to take lame, corny, cliche photos with me, even though it was such a crazy request, you did it anyway without complaining; prom was kinda overrated, and we left after an hour, but we went, and showed off our dresses, and made fools of ourselves on the dance floor, and that night I got to sleep next to you again, for the first time in a long time. 14.) You always kiss my forehead. All the damn time, and it’s so sweet and new, I love it; I finally felt like maybe I was more than just a one night stand to someone after all; you made this all feel so damn natural, I had no idea what to do with myself…thank you for showing me how love should look. 15.) For whatever reason, I have no clue why still, but whatever reason, you refuse to let me get into trouble with the law, or anyone, but especially the law. You are so selfless, and quick to take the blame, or remove me from a situation before someone gets hit, so that I can stay out here; you’ve told me I could hit you if I needed to, but I refuse to hurt you in the way I hurt the people I despise. 16.) Your long hair is so nice to run my fingers through, when it comes time to lay down for bed. You look so at peace when I catch each strand in my fingers, and comb…it’s adorable to see you smiling in your sleep. 17.) Even after I told you about how damaged my heart was, you still wanted it, and took it in your possession, and nursed it back to normal, slowly, with each tender kiss, and conversation we had; you are so lovely, I can’t believe you’d want me. It’s still an insecurity of mine today.. 18.) I will go through withdrawals of you if you’re gone for too long, that week without you, was lonely, dark and cold, and I had no idea where to go from there…I immediately began to beat myself up for reacting the way that I did, and convinced myself you weren’t coming back this time, and pretended not to care; the second I saw you around town, I broke down and immediately began the cycle of “should I call?” or “should I wait?” I decided to try to find you. And now here we are. 19.) My eyes are usually so full of sadness, a pretty green, but pain possesses them, you always did the most to make me laugh to bring back their shine. We’d talk all night and all day, until informed that days had passed when it felt like hours; forever was not going to be enough time to listen to your jokes, and everything weighing on your heart. 20.) last but certainly not least, “I love you”… You were going to the neighborhood gas station, and you’d kissed me goodbye, and those three little words, just fluttered out of your mouth. You immediately turned beet red, and I could feel myself not breathing. You’d been gone for a bit, and I sat with those three words, dancing around my skull like one of Colton’s toys. When you returned, you sat down and you were stiff, almost worried, when I leaned over to your ear, and whispered back “I heart you too” You cocked your head at me weird, and I said “I love you too…” and then there was that beautiful smile I don’t see too often, but it’s better than winning the lottery every time I see it; I had no idea what was going to happen from then on out, but I wasn’t afraid to find out anymore…I wasn’t sure of much but I did know that I was in love with you, and that I was always at home, when I was with you…I loved you, I fucking loved you…and for the first time ever, I believed you when you said you loved me too.

20 Reasons How I fell in love with you// 20 reasons why i’m never giving up 4-26-17