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This is my attempt to represent my feelings through a story, as someone has recommended I do. I'm not being arthouse.
--
Hope.
Can you visualise hope? I laughed it off, as she suggested it. Hope is something for the living, for those with the gift of vitality to guide them through their expeirences. Not for us, rotting down amongst the filth of the world. She would insist.
Hope. You can touch it, feel it beating in your hands and you head. It infuses you, intoxicating, making every inch of you want for something more, knowing that you can have it. If only I would dare to believe, she would say, a new world that you never knew existed could be yours, even for a fleeting second.
I knew this world. I was happy, damn her. I lived in it and breathed it in each day. I stare at my fingers. And then...it was taken from me. By what? I laugh coarsely. I don't think I'll ever know. Everything I'd ever wanted was mine. Does God exist? Is Heaven a real place? You know, I think I believed. For the smallest fragment of time imaginable, I had a sense of something larger. Something...real.
And now I'm here. The world and more was taken from me and I was cast in here, and you speak to me of HOPE? Anger, welling up inside like an unquenchable tide, and I don't want to quench it. She dares to speak to me like I am a being that doesn't want? I want. I want so much it hurts. Every single day. Hour. Minute. Second.
Hope. She would whisper the word with such passion, such belief as I had never known. I laugh again, anger subsiding beneath a new wave. I knew this feeling. Oh yes, I had known it since the day I was cast here and made to watch others divide among them what I had known.
Evy.
The word tasted foul. I spat, scratched at my tongue until I tasted blood. The sweet taste of blood on my tongue to wash away the taste of evy. Yes...
I knew evy. I knew desperation. I knew hate. I knew anger. I knew pain. I knew everything that was against the hope she spoke of. How could I know hope?
Believe. The rancor of it, as she suggested with...damn her, suggested with such arrogance. She couldn't be wrong, oh no, it's always her way, and her belief, and her hope. My eyes met hers, for the first time in what seemed like millenia. Perhaps they never had before. And, it was like washing the film away from a window to finally see what you'd always secretly wanted to be there, but knew that it never could. I looked into her eyes, and saw what I wanted.
Hope. My lips split into a smile, dry lips that cracked and exploded with pain as blood leaked out of them. I felt nothing, because that is what I believed. I believed I wasn't here, so I wasn't. I saw hope, and reached out to it, knowing that my suffering was at an end. My fingers curled about something that was as intangible as it was real.
And I screamed. For the pain I had known was as nothing compared to what I felt now.
I screamed.
--
Hope.
Can you visualise hope? I laughed it off, as she suggested it. Hope is something for the living, for those with the gift of vitality to guide them through their expeirences. Not for us, rotting down amongst the filth of the world. She would insist.
Hope. You can touch it, feel it beating in your hands and you head. It infuses you, intoxicating, making every inch of you want for something more, knowing that you can have it. If only I would dare to believe, she would say, a new world that you never knew existed could be yours, even for a fleeting second.
I knew this world. I was happy, damn her. I lived in it and breathed it in each day. I stare at my fingers. And then...it was taken from me. By what? I laugh coarsely. I don't think I'll ever know. Everything I'd ever wanted was mine. Does God exist? Is Heaven a real place? You know, I think I believed. For the smallest fragment of time imaginable, I had a sense of something larger. Something...real.
And now I'm here. The world and more was taken from me and I was cast in here, and you speak to me of HOPE? Anger, welling up inside like an unquenchable tide, and I don't want to quench it. She dares to speak to me like I am a being that doesn't want? I want. I want so much it hurts. Every single day. Hour. Minute. Second.
Hope. She would whisper the word with such passion, such belief as I had never known. I laugh again, anger subsiding beneath a new wave. I knew this feeling. Oh yes, I had known it since the day I was cast here and made to watch others divide among them what I had known.
Evy.
The word tasted foul. I spat, scratched at my tongue until I tasted blood. The sweet taste of blood on my tongue to wash away the taste of evy. Yes...
I knew evy. I knew desperation. I knew hate. I knew anger. I knew pain. I knew everything that was against the hope she spoke of. How could I know hope?
Believe. The rancor of it, as she suggested with...damn her, suggested with such arrogance. She couldn't be wrong, oh no, it's always her way, and her belief, and her hope. My eyes met hers, for the first time in what seemed like millenia. Perhaps they never had before. And, it was like washing the film away from a window to finally see what you'd always secretly wanted to be there, but knew that it never could. I looked into her eyes, and saw what I wanted.
Hope. My lips split into a smile, dry lips that cracked and exploded with pain as blood leaked out of them. I felt nothing, because that is what I believed. I believed I wasn't here, so I wasn't. I saw hope, and reached out to it, knowing that my suffering was at an end. My fingers curled about something that was as intangible as it was real.
And I screamed. For the pain I had known was as nothing compared to what I felt now.
I screamed.
Page:
So whenever anyone else writes their feelings instead, they're being arthouse? ;0)
But anyway, don't listen to your anger. There's always more hope, more life, more everything. This is why people never really bother to follow their dreams, because they fail once, if you fail, try something else, don't give up. Just because you don't suit one thing, doesn't mean you've got nothing left to live for.
At least, that's what Vyse says in Skies of Arcadia anyway. :0)
But anyway, don't listen to your anger. There's always more hope, more life, more everything. This is why people never really bother to follow their dreams, because they fail once, if you fail, try something else, don't give up. Just because you don't suit one thing, doesn't mean you've got nothing left to live for.
At least, that's what Vyse says in Skies of Arcadia anyway. :0)
This is my attempt to represent my feelings through a story, as someone has recommended I do. I'm not being arthouse.
--
Hope.
Can you visualise hope? I laughed it off, as she suggested it. Hope is something for the living, for those with the gift of vitality to guide them through their expeirences. Not for us, rotting down amongst the filth of the world. She would insist.
Hope. You can touch it, feel it beating in your hands and you head. It infuses you, intoxicating, making every inch of you want for something more, knowing that you can have it. If only I would dare to believe, she would say, a new world that you never knew existed could be yours, even for a fleeting second.
I knew this world. I was happy, damn her. I lived in it and breathed it in each day. I stare at my fingers. And then...it was taken from me. By what? I laugh coarsely. I don't think I'll ever know. Everything I'd ever wanted was mine. Does God exist? Is Heaven a real place? You know, I think I believed. For the smallest fragment of time imaginable, I had a sense of something larger. Something...real.
And now I'm here. The world and more was taken from me and I was cast in here, and you speak to me of HOPE? Anger, welling up inside like an unquenchable tide, and I don't want to quench it. She dares to speak to me like I am a being that doesn't want? I want. I want so much it hurts. Every single day. Hour. Minute. Second.
Hope. She would whisper the word with such passion, such belief as I had never known. I laugh again, anger subsiding beneath a new wave. I knew this feeling. Oh yes, I had known it since the day I was cast here and made to watch others divide among them what I had known.
Evy.
The word tasted foul. I spat, scratched at my tongue until I tasted blood. The sweet taste of blood on my tongue to wash away the taste of evy. Yes...
I knew evy. I knew desperation. I knew hate. I knew anger. I knew pain. I knew everything that was against the hope she spoke of. How could I know hope?
Believe. The rancor of it, as she suggested with...damn her, suggested with such arrogance. She couldn't be wrong, oh no, it's always her way, and her belief, and her hope. My eyes met hers, for the first time in what seemed like millenia. Perhaps they never had before. And, it was like washing the film away from a window to finally see what you'd always secretly wanted to be there, but knew that it never could. I looked into her eyes, and saw what I wanted.
Hope. My lips split into a smile, dry lips that cracked and exploded with pain as blood leaked out of them. I felt nothing, because that is what I believed. I believed I wasn't here, so I wasn't. I saw hope, and reached out to it, knowing that my suffering was at an end. My fingers curled about something that was as intangible as it was real.
And I screamed. For the pain I had known was as nothing compared to what I felt now.
I screamed.
--
Hope.
Can you visualise hope? I laughed it off, as she suggested it. Hope is something for the living, for those with the gift of vitality to guide them through their expeirences. Not for us, rotting down amongst the filth of the world. She would insist.
Hope. You can touch it, feel it beating in your hands and you head. It infuses you, intoxicating, making every inch of you want for something more, knowing that you can have it. If only I would dare to believe, she would say, a new world that you never knew existed could be yours, even for a fleeting second.
I knew this world. I was happy, damn her. I lived in it and breathed it in each day. I stare at my fingers. And then...it was taken from me. By what? I laugh coarsely. I don't think I'll ever know. Everything I'd ever wanted was mine. Does God exist? Is Heaven a real place? You know, I think I believed. For the smallest fragment of time imaginable, I had a sense of something larger. Something...real.
And now I'm here. The world and more was taken from me and I was cast in here, and you speak to me of HOPE? Anger, welling up inside like an unquenchable tide, and I don't want to quench it. She dares to speak to me like I am a being that doesn't want? I want. I want so much it hurts. Every single day. Hour. Minute. Second.
Hope. She would whisper the word with such passion, such belief as I had never known. I laugh again, anger subsiding beneath a new wave. I knew this feeling. Oh yes, I had known it since the day I was cast here and made to watch others divide among them what I had known.
Evy.
The word tasted foul. I spat, scratched at my tongue until I tasted blood. The sweet taste of blood on my tongue to wash away the taste of evy. Yes...
I knew evy. I knew desperation. I knew hate. I knew anger. I knew pain. I knew everything that was against the hope she spoke of. How could I know hope?
Believe. The rancor of it, as she suggested with...damn her, suggested with such arrogance. She couldn't be wrong, oh no, it's always her way, and her belief, and her hope. My eyes met hers, for the first time in what seemed like millenia. Perhaps they never had before. And, it was like washing the film away from a window to finally see what you'd always secretly wanted to be there, but knew that it never could. I looked into her eyes, and saw what I wanted.
Hope. My lips split into a smile, dry lips that cracked and exploded with pain as blood leaked out of them. I felt nothing, because that is what I believed. I believed I wasn't here, so I wasn't. I saw hope, and reached out to it, knowing that my suffering was at an end. My fingers curled about something that was as intangible as it was real.
And I screamed. For the pain I had known was as nothing compared to what I felt now.
I screamed.
Page: