Dear Journal - (M/L Mature) - 1/1 - 06/30/06
Posted: Fri Jun 30, 2006 12:54 am
Title: Dear Journal
Disclaimers: I own nothing. That means, nothing Roswell, not their characters, not the show, not a damn thing. Please... no infringement intended, so don't sue, please. Haha.
Rating: Mature
Category: M/L. Liz POV
Summary: A journal entry by Liz.
Author's Note: I was feeling kind of blue... wrote it within two hours... so it might not be the best. But... again, I was feeling kind of blue. So yes, it's a little sad. But I still hope you like.
Dear Journal,
It’s been awhile. I know. I’ve missed you a lot. I shouldn’t bottle up all my emotions inside like I do. But sometimes I just can’t help myself; I just get so overwhelmed by all that I feel that it becomes too much for me. And then I don’t know where to begin or how to even explain myself.
But tonight, I just want it to be about a boy.
And it’s always about Max Evans.
You know, our relationship would be a rocky one, with its fair share of ups and downs. One minute, we’d be laughing and playing and the next just tearing at each other. We were so volatile. Sometimes it was a good thing—especially those heated sessions in the bedroom. I’d get rough with him when he would anger me and all I can do is push him away. But he’d never let me push him far, always coming back for more. I guess it was a form of foreplay, that animal in both of us—clawing at each other.
Our love amazes me.
I’d be so mad at him for the stupidest reason, never remembering exactly why I was mad in the first place, but just mad anyways. It’s that stubbornness inherited from my mother that keeps me sharp tongued and boiling with emotions. I can control it, but a lot of times, I enjoy the feeling of letting loose. Again, it’s that stubbornness... mixed with a bit of pride that kept me angry. But no matter how long this streak of mine would go on for, Max was always this sort of... calm, unlike me. I hated it but I loved it at the same time. Hated it because I just wish he’d lash back out at me—wish he’d push me like I pushed him. But I loved him more for it because he respected me enough to just let me be angry. He never hurt me and I knew he would never. Not even when my nails would dig into his skin, red marks lashing out on his evenly tan and beautiful skin, marking it and marring perfection in my eyes. All he would do was grab my hands, pull them behind me and look into my eyes with that intense stare he always reserves for me.
And I melt.
Right there.
I melt.
The amazing thing... he’d melt right with me. I thank God, I thank the heavens, the stars... the world and the universe for making me so lucky to have Max Evans fall in love with me, Liz Parker.
It doesn’t always happen like that. Sometimes, we would lie next to each other in bed—our bodies molded together—and lazily leave feather light touches against skin. We could do it for hours at a time, till the teasing became too much to bear. Slowly, we would seduce each other.
Even now, I can feel the warmth of his skin next to me, as if he were still by my side. I’ve never loved anyone more than I loved him. At twenty-eight, I know, I’m young. There’s plenty of life to have lived and learned... but... a part of me died the instant the light in Max died.
It’s been a month. Yet... the pain is still there. My heart still cries out for him. Every thought is still about him; my mind constantly invaded by visions of him—the past, the present, the future—whatever my imagination conjures up. I know I should try to let go and move on. But how do you let go when you never got to say goodbye? How can I move on when my heart was left behind?
He was an amazing man.
I just wish my daughter would have known. Because I know he would be an amazing father like the husband he was. It doesn’t seem fair that life would take him so early from me. I have cried plenty and will continue to cry rivers for him.
I know I write this because it makes me feel a little bit closer to him. If I can put down into words what we had, what we shared and everything I felt for him... I feel then... I still have him with me. And that’s all I want. I don’t expect myself to write much more. Just having this is enough because I know I will continue to read this over and over, cherishing every moment we had.
Maybe one day, I’ll come back to you and will have moved on. But for now, this is for my love, Max Evans.
I miss you.
Love yours always,
Liz.
--
It'll be a one parter. Came out through a spurt of fleeting inspiration. Haha.
Disclaimers: I own nothing. That means, nothing Roswell, not their characters, not the show, not a damn thing. Please... no infringement intended, so don't sue, please. Haha.
Rating: Mature
Category: M/L. Liz POV
Summary: A journal entry by Liz.
Author's Note: I was feeling kind of blue... wrote it within two hours... so it might not be the best. But... again, I was feeling kind of blue. So yes, it's a little sad. But I still hope you like.
Dear Journal,
It’s been awhile. I know. I’ve missed you a lot. I shouldn’t bottle up all my emotions inside like I do. But sometimes I just can’t help myself; I just get so overwhelmed by all that I feel that it becomes too much for me. And then I don’t know where to begin or how to even explain myself.
But tonight, I just want it to be about a boy.
And it’s always about Max Evans.
You know, our relationship would be a rocky one, with its fair share of ups and downs. One minute, we’d be laughing and playing and the next just tearing at each other. We were so volatile. Sometimes it was a good thing—especially those heated sessions in the bedroom. I’d get rough with him when he would anger me and all I can do is push him away. But he’d never let me push him far, always coming back for more. I guess it was a form of foreplay, that animal in both of us—clawing at each other.
Our love amazes me.
I’d be so mad at him for the stupidest reason, never remembering exactly why I was mad in the first place, but just mad anyways. It’s that stubbornness inherited from my mother that keeps me sharp tongued and boiling with emotions. I can control it, but a lot of times, I enjoy the feeling of letting loose. Again, it’s that stubbornness... mixed with a bit of pride that kept me angry. But no matter how long this streak of mine would go on for, Max was always this sort of... calm, unlike me. I hated it but I loved it at the same time. Hated it because I just wish he’d lash back out at me—wish he’d push me like I pushed him. But I loved him more for it because he respected me enough to just let me be angry. He never hurt me and I knew he would never. Not even when my nails would dig into his skin, red marks lashing out on his evenly tan and beautiful skin, marking it and marring perfection in my eyes. All he would do was grab my hands, pull them behind me and look into my eyes with that intense stare he always reserves for me.
And I melt.
Right there.
I melt.
The amazing thing... he’d melt right with me. I thank God, I thank the heavens, the stars... the world and the universe for making me so lucky to have Max Evans fall in love with me, Liz Parker.
It doesn’t always happen like that. Sometimes, we would lie next to each other in bed—our bodies molded together—and lazily leave feather light touches against skin. We could do it for hours at a time, till the teasing became too much to bear. Slowly, we would seduce each other.
Even now, I can feel the warmth of his skin next to me, as if he were still by my side. I’ve never loved anyone more than I loved him. At twenty-eight, I know, I’m young. There’s plenty of life to have lived and learned... but... a part of me died the instant the light in Max died.
It’s been a month. Yet... the pain is still there. My heart still cries out for him. Every thought is still about him; my mind constantly invaded by visions of him—the past, the present, the future—whatever my imagination conjures up. I know I should try to let go and move on. But how do you let go when you never got to say goodbye? How can I move on when my heart was left behind?
He was an amazing man.
I just wish my daughter would have known. Because I know he would be an amazing father like the husband he was. It doesn’t seem fair that life would take him so early from me. I have cried plenty and will continue to cry rivers for him.
I know I write this because it makes me feel a little bit closer to him. If I can put down into words what we had, what we shared and everything I felt for him... I feel then... I still have him with me. And that’s all I want. I don’t expect myself to write much more. Just having this is enough because I know I will continue to read this over and over, cherishing every moment we had.
Maybe one day, I’ll come back to you and will have moved on. But for now, this is for my love, Max Evans.
I miss you.
Love yours always,
Liz.
--
It'll be a one parter. Came out through a spurt of fleeting inspiration. Haha.