Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step.
he complains, giving the collar a slight adjustment. he doesn’t understand why they all had to dress up, but instead of voicing his disdain for pretending the world outside of the fence isn’t hell; but he’ll stuff the thoughts in a box too small. he never wore anything this dressy before, and he was never expecting to. never say never.
’ where’d y’ even get this ? ‘
“It’s not that bad.”
she watched as daryl gave a light tug to the collar of the shirt, rolling her eyes as he did so. judith was never fond over nice clothing either, the tags always annoyed her and her mom would never let her cut them off. glancing over at the man near her, she couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous he looked.
"I just found it, I tried to make my dad wear it but he didn’t want to so you were my second guess.”
.
’ ain’t a doll fer y’ t’ dress up. ’
to say he felt uncomfortable was putting it mildly. to him, clothes were meant to dirty up and work in, not be presentable to some snobbish standard. when told he was a second choice, he gave a look.
’ who said i wanted t’ ? —- yer lucky i like ya. ’
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