Laughter II

Continued from here...

She fell back on the floor, writhing in pain. They just watched, unaffected.

They'd all known she'd try to escape, just as she'd known that they would stop her - that it'd never work. But she'd had to try.

He walked in through a door behind her and she curled up into a ball. She could still sense him when he walked into the room - a combination of that hint of oh-so-sexy perfume and sheer presence. She tensed against that familiar feeling of need. Summoning up all the hate she could find, she stayed where she was, not caring that the grime from the floor was getting in her thick hair, and matted into her white dress.

They vanished into the shadows of the dimly-lit room as he strode up to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off. She sensed movement, tension in the shadows. They were waiting for her to make once false move.

He knelt beside her. "You're not one of them, you know." His voice was kind, not a hint of the detachment with which he'd killed her family showing.

She wondered if keeping quiet would be the better option. Ignoring him, pretending he didn't exist.

But she answered anyway. "You murdered them. They were all I had and you slaughtered them, like animals...." Her voice trailed off, not strong enough for the effort it took to keep it from breaking.

His jaw flexed. She could almost see the anger flashing in his eyes, though her back was still to him. "They are animals! Them and all their kind! Alex, they kill innocent people! They've gotten to you so you don't see it. Don't you realise you would've been next when they got tired of their cute young human plaything? Dammit, Alex, I love you! I would do anything for you."

The words cut her to her heart. Once, she'd believed. Once - it seemed a very long time ago - she'd thought that she'd love this man until the day she died, and that he felt the same.

Staying True

What is truth, anyway?

Is it in anything I say?

I swear I'll never lie -

That I'd rather die

It's so easy to believe

Even as I deceive.

Truth is a dream -

the clippetty-clip-clop

of the high heels

of a woman on the hop.

Prick-prick-pricking,

stabbing the stone

though she's walking alone

Truth is a lie

until you die.

It's all in your head,

the black and the red,

debits and credits -

nothing truly fits.

Meaningless words for the most part, but they fill my head. And it makes sense to me, somewhere, deep down inside where I'm trying to stay true to who I really am. I change so much and so often that I can barely find that truth now. You'd think that basic principles wouldn't change. Like love being sacred. Or always being truthful, no matter what the cost. Don't cheat, don't lie, don't steal. Those are basic. They don't change. Or do they? I can't tell anymore.

It's so easy to slip a little. Relax one little rule, because, really, who does it hurt? Just this time, right? We won't do it again. And the next time, it comes just that much easier. Is crime a habit? I believe it could be. You never hurt the ones you love. Or do you hurt them the most? I don't know.

We all try, we shoot for the stars, aiming for the impossible in search of the God in whose image we were created. Did God expect us to be perfect when he created us, or dependent on his love to save us from the way he made us? How fair is that anyway? To create humans with hopes and dreams, with a conscience - to design them to want to be good - no, that should be Good, with a G - and then say OK, you're not perfect, I'll forgive you if you make mistakes, you're just human. It's like saying "You have to want to be the best, but really, if you're not, it's just because I made you that way, don't worry about it - but try anyway."

Is the choice between good and evil just sport for unseen beings, or really the daily struggle to save the world that it seems to us? Is there any point to it at all?

I think I may have lesbian tendencies!

I'm still trying to get the picture out of my head.

But I'm getting ahead of myself...

There I was, walking innocently along the road, minding my own business.. when suddenly, they filled my vision. I couldn't focus on anything else, I was staggered. Leggggs! I looked up for barely a second, and up and up until finally my eyes met the hemline of a pair of very short shorts. I'm ashamed to say I can't even remember what the rest of her looked like. And the guy with me did tell me there was another girl there too.. But I can't seem to see beyond the legs. :S

Yeah, this is short, but I'm still trying to deal with the possibilities this presents.. :P

The works

I oughta be at work today. And I would be, if I weren't feeling so shitty. I've no idea what makes me get sick so often, but I've a feeling it's got something to do with me being so mentally wrapped up in stupid problems - mine and other people's. But I don't know how reliable that is, 'cause I get sick anyway.

Never mind that.

I've been thinking about stuff.. just random things like how easy it is to mutilate my name.. I'd go from there to how easy it is to mutilate other stuff, but I don't want to ruin my newly re-humanized image.

And other stuff. Like, you know how you'd expect someone who writes all those steamy scenes in romances (yes, guilty as charged, I do read 'em) to be all dashing, and gorgeous and irresistible? But it turns out they aren't. Kudos to their imagination though.

Yet more stuff. Like how I don't want to think about where the hands that touch the same things I touch everyday have been. And how that just got me thinking about it.

I've got a little story I want to write.. it's been in the works for months now, but it just doesn't seem ready to emerge yet... and I'm scared of being like that over-zealous lady with the butterfly, who wanted it out in a hurry and ripped open the coccoon, only to have the butterfly die because it wasn't allowed to struggle its way out on its own. But I'm also worried that I don't drag it out, it'll stay in my head... much like the way I'd stay in bed if mom didn't drag me out.

So yeah, going to try and get something productive done... Not sure what my next post will be like, I'm awaiting the result with interest myself.

Hello

You might've noticed this whole blog has been in the third person so far. In case you were wondering, which I doubt you were, 'cause no one seems to read this anyway, it was this way because I wanted to distance myself from the part of me that felt all those things.

This has been my venting blog for a while now, it's just that the venting takes a different form from F###F###F###F###!!! though that would be nice. I just can't make myself say the word unless I'm really sad or angry. Comes of living with your grandparents for too long, I guess. :D

Why, then, am I taking a break from the third person? Maybe because I want to make this my main blog. Maybe because the last few weeks have been difficult, and I want to connect with something, even if it's just a blog.

So, since I'm starting over, I thought I'd say hi. So. erm. Hi. *awkward wave*

I'm tired, I'm sad, I'm hurt. And I know I have to keep pretending nothing happened so I won't worry my family. I'll figure this out. I know I will.

The Darkness Returns

She doesn't know how to begin. She takes a deep breath and tries to start over, but none of it makes any sense. She can't remember how this happened. How she ended up here, surrounded by people, feeling all alone again. She thinks it's funny that she's feeling this way, because all she remembers is a warm, fuzzy feeling of happiness, belonging... and then this.

She knows it's her fault, whether she did it consciously, or whether her subconscious was trying to re-create the environment which it'd been in most of her life. But she can't remember why or what, it's all just one huge blur. The wrong choices, people hurt.

She remembers pain. Overwhelming pain. Drowning in it, the flood consuming her, seeping through her, welcoming her back. She caused pain and that pain caused her pain. The knowledge that it couldn't be changed, that sometimes, there's just nothing for it but to leave, sinking in finally.

Laughter

She tries to laugh. A harsh, guttural screech escapes her, mirthless. They look at her. She looks at them. They all know what comes next.

Continued here...