Status Updates From 17 Black and 29 Red (Stockh...

The bed smells like it should, stupid cherry shampoo and sweat.

Bahahaha

he mentions his sister and Lindsay looks at him really oddly.
”What?"
”What sister?"
”What do you mean what sister?"
”I mean what sister, you never said anything about a sister."
”You met her, you spaz, Dory."
”She's your sister?"
”Uh, yeah."
”God. Oh... god, I thought she was yours."
”Eurgh! Lindsay, Jesus! I don't know how you managed to miss the fact I'm a little bit queer..."

He stabs the woolen monkey through the face and chest with his old needle until it's dead–until it would be dead if the fucking stupid thing were actually alive.
Oh, God... Lindsay 😢💔

He's still waiting to feel something. Outrage about earlier, happiness about now, but there's still nothing much there, not really. Just something kind of warm. Resignation, about the bad stuff as well as the good. It's always been like that. It probably always will. That'll have to be good enough.

He goes back to the studio, because he doesn't know what else to do, and tattoos a dashed "cut here" line and a tiny pair of scissors over the blue veins inside his left wrist. Then he feels stupid.

Meeting Lindsay was like escaping. Right or wrong, it was a way out of that vague sense of awkwardness he suddenly had around everybody and couldn't shake off.

It's funny to read of the couple you hated/ loved as a couple NOT being a couple, totally necessary here as well