praying for love in a lap-dance

@Vienna hi ;)

If wolves had liquor, Finn would be intoxicated half of the time. Turning a year older had hit him harder than he ever thought it would. What would've seemed like just a reference number had wrapped itself around his neck, suffocating him like a wave. A wave that brought along a small piece of maturity that had escaped him during his puberty. It had arrived late, but it had arrived.

And this new, 'maturity' the male possesed had not arrived fashionably late, but impromptu in the worst of times. It had not only brought new feelings into his heart but it had also turned on the little engine in his brain, called self-counciousness, which had been gathering dust for a good portion of his young life.

He was beginning to think twice before jumping into the unknown, he was not enjoying the adrenaline rush as before. Instead the electricity in his soul had been replaced by softness and butterflies in his stomach. It was gross.

So again, without a motive or a reason the young male wandered around the mountains, cars crashing in his brain and flames licking at his chest.

God it was hard being sober.