i'm the kind of human wreckage that you love
Rigby hated the lighthouse, in all its ivory beauty and mystic atmosphere. It was just another divine fabrication, created to draw in the weary and grieving and watch them crumble like stone. They'd pray their lives away surrounded by that magical light, and neglect reality. He hated it, and he was terrified of it.
He sat at the cliff edge, the lighthouse behind him shining like a beacon in the night. Though he wished to see it turned to a pile of rock on the ground, it did make a nice fake moonlight during this week of darkness. Long legs swung precariously over the jagged rocks, he leaned back onto his elbows and lit a smoke. As per usual.
He sat at the cliff edge, the lighthouse behind him shining like a beacon in the night. Though he wished to see it turned to a pile of rock on the ground, it did make a nice fake moonlight during this week of darkness. Long legs swung precariously over the jagged rocks, he leaned back onto his elbows and lit a smoke. As per usual.
RIGBY
