It started like this. Meet someone you end up considering a friend. Something happens that seems awkward for a moment. Then you kiss and are instantly in love, right? Well, aside of something like that actually being true, something bad always comes out of happiness. In this case, one of them just gives up while the other is eaten alive by whatever goddamn thing happened and ends up becoming sad and depressed. Depressed doesn't sound too bad, does it? Well if that's what you think, you've obviously have never been depressed. When someone's depressed, the only thing they feel is hurt and pain and more than half of the time they don't even know why they're so upset. They feel a tug in the pit of their soul. A tug in the middle of their being. A tug that just edges them on. Making them become sad and miserable. Pushing them to a point that no human being can understand unless they themselves had felt it. This point it called by many names. Some call it the high point in depression, some call it the end, and some call it the point of no return, which is the name I prefer. This is the point where the being that has came to that point decides there's no meaning in their life and that they can't go on. That's when the blade comes out. That's when the noose is tied. When the bottle of pills come out and a gun. The blade will cut, the noose will hang, the bottle will be emptied, and the gun will be shot.The sad thing about all this is the fact that it is caused by love gone bad; and I think that's one of the worse things in the world.

I hate being a girl sometimes. You have periods that come with bitchy attitudes. You need to keep up your figure and wear a hell of a lot of makeup to make yourself feel pretty and feel like other people will think your pretty. You have to wear bars that just get uncomfortable after a while. You can be a whore and get upset when someone calls you a whore. You get treated like guys property with them calling you their girl. And you fall in love fast and hard just because the guy you go out with tells you they love you and gives you a good kiss and feels on you a little. Well, if you ask me, I hate all that shit and wish I could just quit it all. But, damn, I can't do that.

I look around my room and see the small knife I've been using. It's not a pocket knife, just a small knife with a stone handle and a silver blade. It sit's on my dresser in front of my mirror next to my hair brush. I look closely at the dresser and all the things on it from where I sit on my bed. There's my pink striped makeup case containing eyeliner, eye shadow, mascara, lip gloss, and various other makeup related utensils at the far left of the dresser. Next to it is two bottles of hair spray and my perfume. Next to that is a small wooden jewelry book that contains a few rings, silver bracelets, and silver necklaces. I stop looking at the stuff on the dresser and my eyes land on my reflection in the mirror. My blonde hair is perfectly done and in place. I wear my little pink girly dress showing off the light skin tone. Around my neck hangs my golden necklaces. I have a faint smile on my face, but I know the pain behind it. I look at the suitcase on my bed and then look down and faintly close my eyes.

Over the pass mouth I guess, Jon and four other dumbasses who messed up their relationships and have a girlfriend or boyfriend that's all depressed and shit now decided to hit up this place all the way in Ireland. Now me and these two others are being forced to pack our bags and go to some dainty little town in Ireland. Ireland for Christ sake! I open my eyes and look right at my left wrist that's on my bed holding me up by my hand as I sit. I'm wearing my golden bracelets on each wrist, but the more balk bracelets are on my left to cover the scars. Those damn scars. I always have to hide them so no body asks any questions.

I stand up from my bed and walk over to the mirror. I stare at myself in the mirror and smile that small fake smile. I let out a sigh and grab everything off my dresser and stuff it in my suit case. After all the stuff is in the suitcase, I stare at it and look for a minute. The knife was still sitting on my dresser. I turn around and tilt my head at it slightly. I walk across my floor slowly and pick it off the dresser. As my hand was reaching for the knife, I caught my eyes again in the mirror. It was like I was telling myself that what I was going to do was wrong and I shouldn't do it. But I shook it off and pick the knife up, walked back over to my bag, and put it in my makeup bag. After that, I closed my suitcase and dragged it out of my room and throw my ever so clean and empty apartment. I wanted to beat the traffic to the airport. "Off to Ireland." I told myself sarcastically and stepped in the elevator, thinking about how the other people there are going to be like.

((OOC: Kinda long, sorry! Anyways, we'll just write the first post as if we're leaving our homes and heading to the airport. We're not going to do a post on the plane ride there, just the post leaving your home and the post arriving there.

Kerli sat in the leather chair, the plaid blanket laying ornately over her lap. A cat lounged near the fire brimming with ash and the gaseous flames of red hues. Her mother had recently opened the door, arriving with groceries which now stay placid in the fridge, becoming cool and prepared for the evening's dinner. She looked towards the kitchen, as if expectant of some unknown presence to come striding through the arched doorway. Wooden floorboards. Silver fridge. Silver stove. Marble counter-tops. What a modern household, derived from the latest modern catalogs for the people of most modern class. The glass table sit in the midst of the cramped room, a transparent vase reflecting the colored water, with plastic primroses blooming precisely, angled near the window which mirrored the sunlight rising above the horizon. A star yellowed amongst the graying sky. The tickets sit on the table, near the vase. She sat upwards, the blanket spilling at her ankles.

Her fingers touched the edges of the tickets, feeling the thin paper, colored a light blue with text horizontally lined amongst the center. Numbers. Letters. They all intermingled together into a stream of dizzying information, so uninformative yet such an important role in the production of transportation. Just more damn money to become pocketed into the government, to be spoken about on the social media, and to be craved by the greedy watchers. It was a cycle that was the basic role of the economy. The government gets all the damn currency, another source of intended communism, and then the social media speaks about it because they believe that they are knowing of everything, and then the watchers sit at the edge of their seat licking their greased fingers over their chicken dinner. Kerli sat down and stared at the tickets. Ireland. It was a place she never thought she'd shamble off to in her lifetime. She was expectant of traveling to Canada or California, but never Ireland with the red hair and the kilts with their hairy legs flaring in the cooling breeze.

Kerli stood upwards and walked towards the stove. She observed the metal pot, the water lining the rim. The bubbles surfacing as the heat circulated throughout the pot. Bubbles. Heat. Water. Kerli turned off the stove and ran up the stairs. She wasn't hungry anyway. She plastered herself to her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Cracks in the walls from the aged paint. Bumps in the walls from too much sloppy painting. Holes in the walls from too much thumbtacks for posters of music artists who eventually became unknown to history. She looked at her phone, which buzzed with a hurried anticipation. Her flight would take off in three hours. Time to take an unending drive down the bending road to the airport, where she would lounge in the plastic chairs and await the announcer with the petty voice to come amongst the P.E. and state that Flight 3501 would be prepared to take off. She would fall asleep for a few minutes, before awakening in remembrance of the songs reverberating through her ear drums.

Shirts? Check. Tanks? Check. Jacket? Check. Jeans? Check. Jordan's? Check. Shorts, muscle shirts, beanie? Check, check, check. Jon thought as he seamlessly packed his bag, being careful at what he brings. He stands in the small, one room apartment packing his bag in the, so called, living room being careful as not to leave or misplace anything. He finishes just as he throws in his iPod and head phones. He crosses his are and turns slowly to take in the last of his apartment he'll be seeing for a while. Jon's apartment is a small clustered one with a small kitchen and a room where Jon sleeps and is suppose to be a living room. He has old dirty close all over the floor, or now in his bag, and old pizza boxes in the kitchen. It's not that bad of a place when you get past all that, but you do get woke up every now and then by police sirens and shootings from the other side of the thin window.

After a couple hours of doing nothing, Jon finally decided to go to the air port and catch his flight to Ireland. Ireland is going to be the place to bring him and his love back together. Hopefully it will work. If not, he hopes that she'll at least be happy with someone else.



"Ahy, dios," Tony said rubbing his temples. He couldn't believe he was about to embark on a journey to Ireland, the world of Leprechauns. Tony hated Leprechauns after he saw that Leprechaun movie with the little evil leprechaun. He hated it, but that was probably the only thing he hated. He had packed his bags and was heading to the airport to go off to Ireland. He just can't wait to meet the other people.

((Sorry it's so short yall didn't really have much to talk about they'll get longer though))

Lacianne curled up in bed, drifting in and out of consciousness as the late morning sun leaked into her room. A little golden retriever puppy was curled up against her chest, and her arms were out as though she was reaching for someone who wasn't there. In her lovely, half-asleep hazy sate, it was was to forget that they were gone. Eventually, the bright sun won out as her sky blue eyes fluttered open.
Yawning, she sat up and took in her surroundings. Under her was her battered copy of Wuthering Heights that had been read so many times and held so close to her so often, it had molded to her body. Tony had given it to her when they first met, and now she was almost never seen without it. Each time she read the tragic love story, it made her feel a bit different. Words mixing with memories.

Her puppy looked up her with his soft amber eyes, and shook out his coat. Smiling affectionately, she tore her gaze away from her book and looked over at the pup. "Good morning, Sher." She crooned, scooping him up and holding him close. Her friends had teased her for giving the clumsy little dog a name like Sherlock Holms, but she though his name was quirky and cute. Yawning again, she glanced at her clock and gasped when she saw what time it was. "I slept in so late! She exclaimed, plopping down her golden retriever pup and untangling herself from her sheets hurriedly.
She changed into a stapless pale blue dress with white polkadots that made her eyes look even bluer. She quickly brushed out her hair and pulled it into a loose braid, holding her thick pale blonde hair in with a light blue lace bow and allowing one curl to hang down next to her face.
Laci brushed her teeth while quickly grabbing her bags and slipping her white flats on. After putting after her tooth brush, she tenderly placed her puppy into a small carrier and hurrying out the door.

When Lace finally made it to the airport and past security with Sherlock -she had a somewhat heated argument with a security gaurd about keeping the small down with her, and he eventually consented- she stood in front of the glass wall before her gate, watching the planes take off somewhat worriedly. She loved Ireland and thought it was such a beautiful place, but she was worried about losing atony for good. She knew she had hurt him and tried to push him away, but deep down she loved him so much- and she could only hope he knew that.

Desi laid on her bed looking up at the ceiling, todays the day she would have to face Kerli once again. Why did she say yes? Well its obvious, she couldn't say no to Kerli, she loved the girl even if Kerli hurt her. Her alarm buzzed reminding her that it was time to get up and ready to go to Ireland. She never thought she would be going to Ireland, or ever go on a plane but heres her chance. Sitting up she looked around her room, she packed the night before but she should go through her list once more to make sure she had everything.

So thats what she did for the next half hour, going over the list she made for the trip and also going through her suitcases not only once but twice.It was a bad habit but one she could not stop, the therapist she used to see said it would become easier to deal with the o.c.d. but the thing is it was never easy. Her mother recently has been showing up daily, worried about her, telling her she wasn't eating enougg. Which was true, ever since Kerli walked out the door Desi has hardly ate, nothing appeased her any longer. Yes she missed Kerli, wishing to be in her arms once again, which she never thought would happen again but then Kerli called and invited her on this trip out of the blue.

Desi knew she would look different to Kerli, smaller, more boney but why would her ex care? Kerli left her, there must have been something wrong with her to have the girl walk out the door. Letting out a tiny sigh she got dressed in a pair of skinny black pants, having to wear a belt and also put on a band tshirt. After her converse were tied on her feet she grabbed her suitcases, got into her car, and headed to the airport where she was to meet up with Kerli and headed off to the green land of Ireland.

Old Town was just that. An old town. There wasn't many people in the town at all. Only a few people looked like they actually lived there, other than that everyone looked like tourist or backpackers. In the airport, I saw Jon, but in both shyness and plan stubbornness, I didn't want to see him and left the airport by myself. Hopping into a cab and riding off. I told the cab driver where I was suppose to be going. I was expecting some leprechaun looking guy, but this guy looked like he was from India. Wow, what a world we're turning into. Anyways, Old Town was a very old town and wasn't anywhere near the airport. It was about and hour to an hour and a half away. The whole time I just looked out the window, deciding the places I should check out sometime before this little trip wraps up.

One place in particular I saw was a light house on a little hill next to a big lake or the ocean (I don't know where ever it was, I don't know Ireland like that). It was old looking but peaceful looking as well with it's faded white and blue paint and the green and yellowish grass alongside the navy blue of the lake with the blue sky and white clouds in the background. It was so beautiful to me that I actually smiled to myself. The cab driver noticed this and squinted his eyes at me.

"You like Irish-lin?" He asked with an Arabian accent.

"Huhmm? You mean Ireland?" I asked back with a tiny bit of cockiness I did not mean to add.

"Yeah, Irish-lin," He replied with a nod.

"I don't know. It's my first time here," I said turning my head to look back out the window.

The cab driver didn't say anything after that and it was all silence. We were coming past a graveyard, by the looks of it. Every gravestone had a cross made into it like a little attached statue. I don't know why, but it creped me out just passing by it. A little further down the road was this old little deserted homestead that had four little houses on it that wear made out of cobblestone. All over the lands on the home wear small one brick high walls. The cab driver said he learned that they were to "keep evil sprits, faes, witches, and creatures off the property". Was that true? I have no idea, so I just got to believe him I guess.

We finally came up to a little house down a long road lined with trees and a forest on either side, which looked like a cool place to explore. The house was small looking, but It really wasn't with two floors, an attic, and a basement. The property was large and had a barn on it with Purebred Irish horses, Irish Wolfhounds and their pups, Border Collies and their pups, and a few goats. It was a nice place. They also had a garden where they grew everything from normal vegetables and fruits to flowers. It was a really beautiful little house. I stepped out of the cad, paid the driver, and grabbed my bag with a heave out of the back seat. I watched the cab drive back down the long drive.

I turned around with a sigh and took a closer look at the house. It had extra clear windows with no shades in front of them just the little bit of the opened curtains. The house had old cracking white paint on it and a bright red, wooded door. I walked up to the door, dragging my stuff along with me, and was about to knock on the door when I saw a written note on the door. It read:

[i]Dear Guests,

I regret to not have informed you sooner on the matter, but we have a bit of a dilemma. No one was able to be at the home in the arrival of every one of you. So we decided that you shall all need to wait until everyone of you are at the home and introduce your selves before taking the small map of the property over on the table in front of the front window and instructions explaining how to find the key to the front door. I would advise you all to please work together and become familiar with each other. This exercise should not only have brought you all together but brought out your best and worst about yourselves. Staying at this home will make you learn about the others here and become friends and maybe even find the love of you lives.

A fháil chomh maith.
Get along.

An garraíodóir
Mr. Reigly

I let out a loud sigh and rolled my eyes then turned around, setting my bag down and sitting on the steps of the house. I put my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. After a few minutes, my bag decides it wants to come alive and it falls over and slides down the steps of the house and lands on the ground. "Oh my god," I breath out with a sigh and put my eyes in my palms. I don't know how long it was before I heard another car coming down the long driveway and stop in front of the house. I looked up and watch and wait for someone to come out of the cab.

((OOC: I decided to be a little fancy and use a font call fantasy this post, anyways, people can now begin arriving at the house in Old Town, remember that Danielle is already sitting there so she's just waiting to see who the person/people is in the cab that pulled up so don't make a paradox and say you walked up to the door and knocked without mentioning Danielle or the letter right on the fucking door! Anyways...you may make next post now ^-^)

Kerli closed her fist. Her knuckles whitened. She opened her hands. It was a tedious cycle until she ended up inducing herself in a desolate state of aching hands and tired limbs. The announcer was a female, sounding preppy, possibly with blonde hair and a soft face that presented full lips covered in a shimmering lip gloss and too much eyeliner. By the time the woman had radiated her loud voice around the airport, half of the people had already filed into their planes, presenting themselves amongst the stairs and clambering into a crowded aisle next to a drunken male complimenting them on their eyes. Too many experiences that Kerli had obtained in her lifetime to be used as mere conscious examples.

Kerli walked through the metal bars which shifted with the interruption of a being walking through them. She had gone through all the unimportant events that took place at every airport and finally arrived amongst the steps of the plane. A cool wind had begun whipping her brown hair around, bunching it amongst her cheek-bones and causing her scarf to continually slap at her stomach. She walked amongst the metal steps, her footing heavy and causing interruption amongst people's conversations to look towards the door and watch the new person arrive awkwardly. She scanned the seats, before finding her position. She sat next to a male in a suit. He smelled like beer and sex. He looked towards Kerli and smiled. A smile saying he was drunk and he wanted sex. Or not. He could just be courteous and smile. She tended to conclude her thoughts amid conversation or in her case, a man smiling.

The plane ride was long. It was long and tiring. The man continued to look out his window and tap his left thigh. Kerli continued to look around and hum songs. Songs that were boring and delivered no intentional bother to listen. Screechy voices, auto-tune, and more screeching of guitars and drums. She positioned her head to rest against her shoulder, humming about the screeching of the voices. The world was so dark. It was so fragile, and so tempting to enclose all of it. This was all just a maddening conversation in her conscious as she progressed into a sleep a tired man envied.