Ignorance Is Truley Bliss My Dear Boy

"I know a boy, an innocent boy. Caught in his own head. He has no escape from this thing, this monster, this savior, this confusion. He searches endlessly for understanding from anyone. But his poor soul is crushed with each person he meets."

"He’s not caught in love, he’s not caught in rejection, he’s caught in a war. A war that goes beyond high school, beyond love, beyond everything we have ever known. But how can he explain it to anyone? This pain...this bitter-sweet faith he has been granted with...maybe cursed with?"
 
"A soldier in the field, trying anything he can do to help anyone he sees. This war lasts a lifetime for this poor boy. His ever-changing dreams haunt him but in the most gentlest of ways."

"This boy is no lover of mine, this boy is no dark side of mine, this boy is nothing more then a brother of mine. Not connected through blood, but connected through a drop of hope."

"I wish to show this boy the simple path. Show him the ignorance that is truly bliss. That insanity beats happiness any day. Show him what the war has to offer."

"But his head is tangled in spider webs of gold.
But his heart is drilled with nails of gold.
But his eyes are glazed with glass of gold."

"Yet, a chain of silver shines vibrantly on his wrist. He's broken through the chains of lord knows what. See, that...that is where I am lost with this boy. I understand what seems to me so much, but is to him, so little."

"I wish to learn everything I can, I wish to never leave his side, I wish to make his goals become a reality. But more then anything, I wish to understand. I wish to take one glimpse at his dreams that he has been haunted with..."

"To take some of the burden off him. To hold him when he needs someone. To lead him to his own refuge. Yet, my mind keeps a barrier of iron from understanding the truth."

"The iron consists of my own stupidity, my own insanity, my own Angel. Three things that are hard for me to let go. Stupidity, sweeter then the Wine Of Majestic Skies. Insanity, dominating happiness since day one of my own personal war. My Angel, the devil child of heaven up above."

"I wish to help this boy...but the devil's nasty number keeps my abay. Lost at some points, and barley understanding at other points..." Camille adjusted herself to a more comfortable position for her half asleep legs crushed under her. "I do truly wish...that we can help him..." She whispered closing her eyes and closing the book to her black and red journal.

"I preferred your journal when you wrote about us, not other people." Angela's whisky voice growled smugly as the strap of her tank top fell off her shoulder while she stalked among the cases of many dolls. She wore a playing white tank top that sagged comfortably on her and showed off her breasts as though she was the whore of all whores. Her thighs were exposed through black shorts and her curled hair was tied up in a bun of some sort. "But of this boy...he's not a lover?" Camille couldn’t help but smile a little. Remembering how this boy had no believe in love, and the fact of him and her together would be putting together a dolphin and a mouse. Just playing weird.

"I'm very sure Angela." Camille said watching Angela waltz around the doll shop. It had a very old look to it, dark brown wood everywhere and the designs were of swirls with moons and stars. The wallpaper shown a dark red making the room smaller then it really was and the white trim at the bottom did nothing more then turn a dusty brown from age. Camille seemed to blend in with the background though. Her dark brown strait hair hung over her face that had huge curls at the tips. Her skin tone was a light tan and her brown eyes were only lined with black. No hazel, no greens, no anything...just black. Her tank top had fit her perfectly and was almost the same hue of wine red as the wall paper. She wore baggy shorts that were brownish white from the dust around this place and her shoulders sagged just like every doll in the store.

Angela stopped at a shelf and pulled out a doll. It seemed long and lanky, its glass skin light and its clothing simple. A white t-shirt and baggy jeans with black shoes. Angela ran her figures through it's curly brown hair and stopped when she realized its face was covered by a mask.

The mask was a dark auburn with a hint of orange only tainted by white in its ears and lining his jaw line.  It also had black on the tip of it's nose that swerves with smooth lines up to where it's eyes would be giving it a sober expression. It looked as though it was resting, yet it was alert and ready. Angela mused over the doll of this boy and tried to remove the mask off him. But the threads bound it tight to his glass figure.

"Isn’t it amazing? He's glass..." Camille commented watching Angela study the doll.

"It isn’t amazing my dear." Angela sighed. "It just is to you because your so used to your last wooden doll..." Camille nodded slightly remembering the last wooden doll she had. It had given her a sickness that she is still recovering from due to the diesis spread in the head of the thing. Angela turned the doll in her hand.

"I seem to like the way this boy thinks..." Angela whispered. Camille stared at her.

"We know so little I will remind you." Camille squeaked standing from her spot between two cases of dolls.

"So bold and harsh..." Angela mumbled running her finger across the doll's cold glass mask and running down it's shoulder until she reached a silver chain hanging from it's left hand. "Yet so full of...what is it...it isn’t love, it isn’t care...it's..." Angela played with the chain intertwining her fingers in the chain and letting it fall as her mind began to wander for the right words.

"Exactly." Camille said taking the doll from Angela and placing it gently back on the shelf where it belonged. Camille didn’t like the fact Angela had even touched the doll at all. But she loved the fact Angela seemed to care.

Angela looked at Camille as she spun around. Camille opened her mouth to say something but Angela waved her hand for silence as she gazed over Camille's shoulder at the doll.

"Why do you bring this up to me?" Angela asked in a low voice.

"Because, we have to do something for him." Camille pleaded. Her brown eyes staring back into Angela's darker eyes. Angela hissed but never turned her head from Camille.

"All we can do for this boy is pray until we can find more for him." Camille was surprised at how Angela didn’t push this boy away but seem to care. Interesting..."Once we find out more about him...we'll make it up from there." Angela's whisky voice seemed weary as though not being able to figure something out was like stabbing her in the chest. Camille nodded and Angela brushed past her lost in her own thoughts until she melted back into the shadows of Camille.