Beyond Pathetic
Aug. 26th, 2007 08:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lukon_ideinWhacked over the head by the Introspection Fairy after finishing a most excellent trilogy (Carol Berg's Rai-Kirah series (Transformation, Revelation, and Restoration).
Literature like that always sets my emotions seething and they rarely have anyplace to go but right back at me. And Berg does so much with age and maturity and choices and consequences. It rs in the known universe. I just had to write it. And given my (most-likely unhealthy) need tmade me want to write something of my own. So, as the craving grew, and thoughts of brokenness slithered around in my brain (inspired in part by the GW500 prompt 'broke'), I ended up writing this. Which has nothing to with Gundam Wing or any other characteo communicate with others by tossing stuff out into the cybersea in a virtual bottle to see if anything will come back, I had to post it. But really just the fact that I wrote it has helped, or I hope it has. Words are a strange thing.
Reflection: Broken.
I loved someone once. When I was very young. Back when I didn’t know what love was. Back when I knew nothing but love, because my family was like that.
We shared things, my friend and I. Intimacies I have never shared with another human being. I depended on her. Needed her more than I knew. More than she wanted. Perhaps I will always want more than another can give.
She moved away when I was six, breaking my heart. She visited town again when I was eight, and would not speak to me, destroying all that was left.
I’d forgotten about it, mostly. Or, like a burn, you remember the fact that it hurt but not the feeling itself. Until my mother, my wonderful, vibrant mother – what did she do to deserve a daughter so barren, so clumsy, so ugly? – sent me her picture one day. She had found it quite by chance and thought I’d enjoy seeing an image of the old days.
And I felt it again. Just a glimpse of her face I felt, before the pain swallowed it up in a suspended instant, a love so strong I was nearly dazed by it. It took me time to recognize it, but once I had it was so obvious. Like a long-lost key to that in the attic. My whole life locked away in those few moments. A loss so powerful I could never risk it again. And a lifetime wasted in fear, in sadness, in loneliness.
And now that I see it? Understand, just a little, where I’ve been and where I’ve gone? What am I to do now? So old, so cautious, so stubborn. Her face smiles at me from a picture thirty years old and all I can do is cry.
Literature like that always sets my emotions seething and they rarely have anyplace to go but right back at me. And Berg does so much with age and maturity and choices and consequences. It rs in the known universe. I just had to write it. And given my (most-likely unhealthy) need tmade me want to write something of my own. So, as the craving grew, and thoughts of brokenness slithered around in my brain (inspired in part by the GW500 prompt 'broke'), I ended up writing this. Which has nothing to with Gundam Wing or any other characteo communicate with others by tossing stuff out into the cybersea in a virtual bottle to see if anything will come back, I had to post it. But really just the fact that I wrote it has helped, or I hope it has. Words are a strange thing.
Reflection: Broken.
I loved someone once. When I was very young. Back when I didn’t know what love was. Back when I knew nothing but love, because my family was like that.
We shared things, my friend and I. Intimacies I have never shared with another human being. I depended on her. Needed her more than I knew. More than she wanted. Perhaps I will always want more than another can give.
She moved away when I was six, breaking my heart. She visited town again when I was eight, and would not speak to me, destroying all that was left.
I’d forgotten about it, mostly. Or, like a burn, you remember the fact that it hurt but not the feeling itself. Until my mother, my wonderful, vibrant mother – what did she do to deserve a daughter so barren, so clumsy, so ugly? – sent me her picture one day. She had found it quite by chance and thought I’d enjoy seeing an image of the old days.
And I felt it again. Just a glimpse of her face I felt, before the pain swallowed it up in a suspended instant, a love so strong I was nearly dazed by it. It took me time to recognize it, but once I had it was so obvious. Like a long-lost key to that in the attic. My whole life locked away in those few moments. A loss so powerful I could never risk it again. And a lifetime wasted in fear, in sadness, in loneliness.
And now that I see it? Understand, just a little, where I’ve been and where I’ve gone? What am I to do now? So old, so cautious, so stubborn. Her face smiles at me from a picture thirty years old and all I can do is cry.
