JrossAAC

jeremy sees things differently. he always has, and can't stop. even in the browns and muck of a thunderstorm he sees the gorgeous green shock of grass, or the intense blue purple blade of lightning. the neighbors all laugh, they say he must be crazy. "no one", they say, "could be that pleased unless something was wrong with their mind." but jeremy just laughs, because he see's it differently. their pessimism amuses jeremy. he has terrible luck with women, jeremy does. always telling them that he loves them for their flaws. an awful smirk crosses his face, he knows that they'll never know what he saw. things aren't always darkest

Jeremy needs comfort. Seeing differently, now that’s a burden worth having. At least, that’s how the world sees it. He escapes, into the far reaches of the inky black of his mind, Where words swirl, like forgotten lyrics to songs that weren’t written, The image he see’s there is intense. A starkly warm night, contrasting sharply with the week’s chilly pattern, But a cool breeze occasionally drifts in the window, lazy, but redeeming. The night is dark, darker than the deepest royal blues, and the richest black. The room they’re in is a mess, it doesn’t matter, love doesn’t need cleanliness, On

Jeremy had been sober for three months. He felt prepared for her brash words and confidence. He was wrong. The way she burst into his life, Walls built in his mind were only made of twigs, She blew right through them. He could see it coming, of course, But nothing could stop this monsoon of feelings. The feelings she shows are a lie, he thinks, With bitter accuracy. William Tell wouldn’t have been this upset If his shots had missed their mark.

Jeremy can’t see. He tries and tries, but he just can’t. Fumbling at his face, he discovers the bandage. Clearly, telling a surgeon their flaws is a bad idea.