Disclaimer: The song "Small Town Trap" belongs to Eve 6 and is being used for non-profit entertainment. Let's just say this song plus my life has inspired this story. Dave Matthews belong to himself. Scully and Mulder to Chris Carter and P/T to Paramount.Note: This didn't turn out to well but I just HAD to write something.
Eve 6
Small Town Trap
Suffocate from lack of stimulation
Television time
Gonna break with every bead of sweat
My heart rate seems to climb
My friend and I stick to the tired couches
Please pass the time
I found a dime under the corner cushion
Wishing it was some place else and so do I so do I
(Chorus)
Small town trap with dreams of breaking out
Here I sit and bake my face is breaking out
Satan's in the living room choking me with apathy
Small town trap with dreams of breaking out
Inspire me cause if you don't
I think I'll dissipate to dust
The liar in me says something's gonna happen soon because it must
My friend and I stick to the tired couches
Please pass the timeI found a dime under the corner cushion
Wishing it was some place else and so do I so do I
(Chorus)
Community immunity is the shot I crave
A sleepless sleep slow motion dream wanna dig my grave
Time ticks away on the longest day
Wanna break away on the longest day
(Chorus)
(Chorus)
TCP: Small Town Trap
by Magik
I rake my hands over the edge of the computer desk, staring into the glare of the monitor, and muttering, "Why the hell isn't anyone else on-line?" under my breath. My teeth clamp together in frustration. Bored. Bored. Bored. But when am I not bored to tears here, in this house, in this town, in this...life.
Just to keep something going, to keep myself from falling asleep sitting a back breaking computer chair, I chew on my knuckles and think about Extol's quiet messages. He'd say, "Don't do that." I keep chewing.
"Six weeks," I murmur. "Six weeks." I want to cry.But I don't `cause I'm not like that. It takes a lot of anything to make me angry or upset. So I crack my knuckles, push the pain into the bottom of my stomach with everything else, and check my e-mail for the fifth time. I think even Hotmail's starting to get tired of me.
I surf over to an X-Files fanfiction page and try not to think about the fact that at least a third of the stories will suck or be so depressing that I want to jump through the screen and throtle the author. After reading the third Scully-dies-of-cancer story and then the sixth Mulder's-jealous-of-Scully's-date even my clear head is starting to get pulled under. I mean, for crying out loud, I'm even starting to get a story idea about shape-shifting tigers and Scully clones.
"Too much Mulder and Scully," I tell myself and then surf over to a P/T page. But it's that same story. Too many B'Elanna-meets-Owen-Paris and What-happened-after-"Blood Fever" fics make me dizzy and nauseous.
I end up cranking Dave Matthews up full blast and just losing myself in "The Best of What's Around" until I remember the connection to Extol and turn the damn thing off.
There's this moment that hangs in the air as I'm looking at the screen, just watching it y'know my eyes kinda blurry `cause it's past eleven and I'm out of it, and I just know that there's more to me than this, more to life than this. My mind just kinda expands and it's like I'm not there but I'm everywhere all at once. It's nice, too, this cosmic feeling.
But it would be nicer if I knew he was out there.
I pull my palms over the edge of the computer desk and then replace Dave Matthews with Eve 6. It's not far to go, after all, not when your mind does all the work.
So as the guitar drenched "Inside Out" fills my ears, I search for him again. `Cause I don't need him here to talk to me, I don't need anybody, I never will. But it would sure be nice to know that he's okay.
