●●● Cherry Life ●●●
"Some kind of wonderful"
Welcome
I hope you will enjoy them, and thank you for reading.
For now, Sayonara,
{Queen Elise}
whatever this may be
Growing up
Favourite worst nightmare
A certain romance
Angels
NaNoWriMo
Day one
Day two
Day eleven
whatever this may be
I hope your day was just as interesting as mine. I found this story on my computer and decided to place it online. I had forgotten about it, but it's quite interesting, actually. See, I wrote this during a period in which I was completely into poetry by Baudelaire, Verlaine, and most of all, poetry by the french poet Arthur Rimbaud. Because of his writings, of course, but also because of his fascinating life. You see, he was extremely gifted, but only published poetry for a few years. At the age of 24, he turned his back on poetry and writing, never to look back again... He is the true enigma, if you'd ask me.
I'm sorry for what I wrote above; I just couldn't help but explaining my fascination for this poet. Please read some of his poems, they are quite marvelous. Of course, you'll need some knowledge of the french language, and it will take some time to understand what he's trying to say, but in the end, it's really worth it. But that's just my opinion.
Anyway, if you are interested, I suggest reading some of his early poems, since they are easilier to understand than his later day works.
Of course, my writing isn't even half as good as Rimbaud's; none of my writings, if I am honest. But, I'd still like your opinion on this... Because, everyone sees something different in it. An ex-friend of mine told me - back when we were still friends - that it reminded her of Hitler. I don't understand that, so I'd be really grateful if you could explain it to me... Another friend told me that it reminded him of himself, and of me, of course, it isn't really logical, but in some ways, it does make sense.
Well, let me know what you think...
For now, oyasumi nasai,
{The Queen}
Then we saved young children from a misery - damned to by the love others felt - and loved whores, giving them the pardon they longed for, freeing them from the endless sin; living... life. Then we touched each other, kissed, tasting the warm, poisonous blood on each other's lips.
We slaughtered fathers and mothers for creating sweetest lies about safe haven, and giving their children hell.
We created seas of blood that never was innocent, it turned the seas of madness crimson-red. I bathed in it, brought it to my companion's lips - he was my eternal lover - on our voyage through insanity.
We destroyed fakeness, mankind's dreams, empty illusions. Gave back reality to those who were too blinded to see. Answered to the prayers of those who were damned, who saw through the veil of fake happiness - into reality - we took them away.
We made love to young men and women - teaching them the beauty of the beast - we destroyed abandoned churches, for they came to us. We gave them the truth.
Growing up
I'm
not quite sure how to describe this. It is sort of a cross between just
a piece of creative writing and something that is about my memories and
fears. It is quite weird, and I seem to be switching points somewhere
along the way, which is absolutely not good. So, I might rewrite it, if
I feel like it one day. Feel free to comment – constructive comments
only please.
Thank you for reading, and for now,
Sayonara
{The Queen}
When she was younger, she spend many hours hiding behind books, loving
nothing more than reading, never looking up before the story was
finished. Every story absorbed her, carried her off to a realm where
anything was possible. She looked down upon the story, without being
part of the story and yet she was there... These worlds made it
possible for her to deal with pain, sadness. It simply disappeared. She
dealt with happiness, with anything through the things she read.
There was a certain magic in books, that got hold of her, forcing her to read and re-read and re-read a specific story.
Escaping
is an ability only children have. As one grows up, she will realize
that her world is slowly changing. She finds herself unable to
disappear to the world she spent so many happy hours of her childhood,
The real world is locking her in, and no matter how hard she tries to
escape, she can’t. The world is no longer the place of make believe
that it used to be. Now she is caught, not by a story but by a world.
There is no chance of fleeing anymore...
Naturally,
she will turn to other ways of escaping. Writing, drawing, but it isn’t
like it used to be. Nothing is like it used to be. Writing yourself,
creating things, is great but it isn’t like it was to escape through a
story, through a book
In
her writing, you will find a certain melancholy, a certain longing.
It’s not because she dislikes this very world, but she longs back to
her childish world, to the time she was able to create a whole world
with a word, with a couple of sentences. She knows it. It’s the process
of growing up. Demain, je serai un enfant d’hier. Or perhaps it
will be today. But she knows she can’t escape it. Today she wants to
run, but tomorrow it will be alright. Tomorrow it will be her reality.
She’ll adapt and get used to it.
In
her heart she doesn’t want to but there is no way of running, of
leaving. So, she’ll accept it. Once, she dreamt she would do it
different but now she knows differently. It doesn’t matter much. No
matter what she wants, one day she will be like the generation of her
parents, the generation she despised, laughed at. She’ll take off her
dark clothes, settle in, get a decent job and lives a decent life. And
one day, her child will laugh at her, as she did at her parents. That’s
her future, she knows that.
And
if she ever will return to her storybook world, she will be old. And it
will be due to an error of her mind that she will returrn. That is the
only way.
But
before then, she will not be able to return. It’s not a problem as big
as it seemed to be. Because, in this fairly new world for her, there is
no time, no place for escaping. It doesn’t matter much to her anymore.
The more her new life absorbs her, the more she forgets about
her childish life and her dreams and freedom, only remembering it with
a sigh, looking at it through adult eyes.
There is no need anymore for her to escape. She is an adult now, this world is hers.
Favourite worst nightmare
Favourite worst nightmare
This is where you
can find the stories around the theme 'idiots'. Now I do realize that
idiots is a very strange theme, but I promise you that you will find
out what I mean by it, while you are reading. Maybe I should say before you start reading - that I no longer have the same way of viewing life and - more importantly - the people in it.
I hope you will enjoy reading
{Queen Elise}
A certain romance
I wrote this story last schoolyear (2005-2006), when - for the first time - I found out other people's idiocy annoyed me like hell. Before, I used to laugh about it, and just not care, but since then. Something triggered it... I just don't know what.
Anyway, this story isn't very good, please also read 'Vampires' (or, as it is actually called, 'Vampires will never hurt you'). Please be so kind to leave a review.
Thank you, and for now, sayonara,
{The Queen}
The other students - without one exception - dislike you. You are different, and therefore, weird. You don't paw and struggle to climb their ranks, nor do you want to. You have transcended beyond the need for their pity acceptance. They dispite you for that and made you a loner. Then they were even more disgusted to find that actually enjoyed your forced solityde.
However, they flock to you like dumb hens whenever there was fun to be had. And though you will never admit it, you had found yourself amused quite a lot of late because of their idiocy and naivity. You drew immense amounts of fun from their petty mob mentalities.
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You smile. But while unaware of it, it shows your true feelings; sadness, bitterness, and an unhuman dose of strength.
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People tell you, "you are so smart", "you are so creative", and even call you "the tortured artist".
You are sick of being a brilliant student. Where was it getting you?
"You are so talented", "Oh, you're so gifted", "you are going to places".
Bull.Shit.
You realize that in every single thought that is going through your mind. You didn't believe a single word of the stupid praises. People may be praising you when you face them, but as soon as you turn your back at them, they'll try to put a knife in.
So that's why you'll face them, always. Silently judging them with your cold green eyes in which they can't see any shadow of an emotion.
Some people consider you as evil, which might be true. You yourself do not view the world in such extremes, but you consider it possible for people who are not gifted with an extraordinary mind as have you, cannot see the shades of grey that exist between the black and the white; between good and evil.
You are beyond good and evil, as Nietzsche wrote. And - as you yourself once wrote in a vague poetic mood - both angelic and demonic, saint and sinner at the same time.
But if you were really so talented, so gifted.... why are you still here? Why are you still waiting for your destiny to begin?
The world still hasn't answered you that....
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You are pale, paler than you can remember to be, and your eyes are ringed with shadows of the lack of sleep. Your eyes are filled with an emotion not many get to see in you; despair, and something deeper even you yourself can't recognize.
"This is what I am," you whisper. "A mere ghost."
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You'll never be a prisoner of society and it's pitious morals and idiotic rules. Because, if you'd do as 'they' say, you'd become one of 'them'. An idiot, blinded by selfishness 24/7.
You can walk among them but you'll always feel distanced. A stranger. An alien.
But that's okay to you; being different. After all, you don't really know better. You were a brilliant kid, a child-genius, her level far above that of peers. Even in a VWO-4 class, you did not find people who were the same as you; and you remained an outsider as you took up your own education because you had had enough of having to adapt yourself to the level of the weaker.
You had had more than enough.
You were too good for that, and you knew it. At this moment you decided to do the one thing that you're best at: being number 1!
People hate you for it. They think it's great to be smart, to know all the answers without studying, but it's not. They don't know anything. They don't know what it's like to have questions about the coursework the teacher cannot answer. They don't see how annoying it is to know the answer at any question and then see the not-understanding faces around you when you answer it.
It's not that you consider your school as bad, you just barely learn anything at all there.
And then your classteacher.... a woman near fourty who thinks she's still fifteen, sixteen, one of your peers. She even has the pathetic courage to call you 'guppy'. Like you're three.....
You don't need someone who acts like she's your age; you need someone who considers you an adult, someone who will treat you as an equal. Not this pathetic woman who doesn't understand you when you say something about the law, or politics, or literature. Hell, you even speak better English than she does.
She once came to you during class because you weren't paying attention - as you never do - and told you, "that's not nice of you". All you answered was, "well, I am not nice".
You really dislike this woman, but you don't hate her though. She's not worth wasting your time on her. So instead of destroying her you just ignore her, silently thinking that some people just don't have enough brain to know that someone is not paying attention.
This woman even dared to tell
you that you "perhaps did not care about what she or anyone else said
about you". It annoyed you; you thought you had made that plain
obvious, so that even a fool like she could get it.
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It always are the same questions. You have explained it hundreds of times already, and they still don't get it.
Sometimes it makes you wonder if 'Good God' has accidentally forgotten to give these people brains, and covered this mistake up by filling their heads with sawdust.
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You know you're arrogant, although you'd never admit it. But you know you are better than these people around you, with their talking about the other sexe and popmusic and movies.
People dislike you for being "too" smart. and they start to moan to you not to think so much of yourself, but you realize there's a hidden message beneath the surface, saying that you should adapt yourself to their level, cuz they find you a freak at the moment.
You react by prefering to be a freak over becoming like them, because you'll never to pretend to be less intelligent than you are, cuz - after all - you're too arrogant for that anyway.
You have always known uncounciously that you have a superiour mind and that you can get very far with it. But one day something made this uncouncious knowledge wake up in you, and the drive to act like you're one of them just wasn't there anymore.
Some people say you're weird, which - you must admit - might be true to some degree; but you have your reasons to do as you do.
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They judge, but you couldn't care less. Their reprimanding and complains are not going to change anything, and you will be the last one to care about that.
Because, you have stopped to care a long time ago - about what people say, think, or feel about you. It's the only way you can be true to yourself. And that's the only person you owe something to: you. It's the only way you can stay sane; the only way you can do what you must.
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You have confided yourself in your own made prison, because freedom is a luxery you cannot afford yourself.
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In general people can't see beyong what their eyes can conceive. If they could, they'd see that the brilliant loner they've come to know is nothing but a shell of the person you once were.
Cuz, that automatic drive to always create, to become someone who matters, you no longer posses. Your strong will is gone.
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A genius of twelve is a good start, but when this kid grows up, the praising turns 180 degrees around and changes into reprimandes; because this child is different, to mature for it's age, ...........creepy.
When such a child was younger, it could be seen as a promise for the future, but as it became older, it always became a lot more different, as it developed in a way many people could not understand, or just did not like.
And it scared them....
Therefor they avoid such a child, and it'd stay a loner, an outsider no one really knew, but still feared; for somehow - unconciously - they could sense the danger it could become.
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You are the only person who knows what happens behind those cold green eyes; the only one to know the answers. You just leave them think whatever they wish about it, because you know that any conclusion they can draw - will draw - is based on their own imagination; their truth consists nothing but lies. They don't deserve any answers.
They may not speak their minds, but they don't trust you. But it doesn't matter, cuz they don't know, they can't see who you are, who you'll be....
And in the end, you will rise, won't stop, never will give up.
Because it's all about you.
All about you.
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It doesn't matter. You don't need friends. At all. You don't need anyone. And you especially don't need anyone you can trust. Such a person does not exist; everyone talks behind your back. You are not even sure if you can trust yourself. You are human, after all. Just like them.
And you're strong, stronger than the others - you fully realize that, but you don't know if you can be trusted with 'such' information. You won't admit it to others, but you have your weaknessess too. And you can't risk to let wrong words slip off your tongue. Not in this case.
You have full control over yourself - at least you used to. You used to be able to do ten things at the same time and still be able to do it all right; you used to be able to control everything around you soley by the power of you will.
Control, that's what it's all, what everything is about.
Total control.
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You had to struggle to escape the mudane society, to get where you are now. At the top.
You are known to be cruel, and sometimes even heartless. You don't mind. If anyone stands in your way, you'll throw them aside as if they are nothing. You are not one to fool around with, and will even kill to get where you want.
You do not care about destroying people's lives. If those naive fools who are so stupid to get in your way are too innocent to see how cruel life can be, they are not worth it to care about. It's not your duty to care about it, nor to make them see.
You learned it the hard way. Only the weak show emotions and will get crushed for that, and you definately are not one of them.
Life - or faith - has changed the innocent child you once were, ripped away your childish believe that there was always something good in everything and everyone. Life created a perfect soldier, not being able to feel emotions, an heiress to the past and the dark. It changed your destiny, and made you become perfect. Perfect in everything.
Most of all, perfectly alone.
Your change wasn't just mentally, it was also visible psychically. Your once kind and genuine smile, full of joy, has been replaced by a sinister sneer, a dark feature always visible on your angelic face. Your once so sparkling eyes have lost their life, and have become cold and no one could read any emotions on your face anymore.
You became cold, calculated, cruel, and most of all: superior
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You picked up your own education
in which you specialized your knowledge of language; French, Dutch,
German, English, Japanese; in philosophy: you read Nietzsche, Darwin,
Sartre, Schoppenhauer; in history, in poetry: you knew Rimbaud,
Verlaine, Baudelaire, Villon. You also became an expert in polictics,
psychology and laws, both national as international.
You were only fifteen.
It has made you become distanced from the world around you. Adults still see you as a fifteen - soon to be sixteen - year old brat, too young to be taken seriously, so they smile to you - as they would smile to a clever five year old - and say something polite so they won't be rude, and then talk on, ignoring you.
Idiots.
You are not at all like those ignorant creatures you share nothing with except for age, and the planet you live on. You are superiour to them in everything.
Looking at several adults around you, you might be - actually, are - superiour to them too.
It has nothing to do with being arrogant, only with self-conciousness. You don't lie for all the qualities you state to have mastered, you really have. Alone, since others did not give you what you needed from them. After all, you were the one who has learned this stuff to yourself.
You know that you will become someone worth knowing. You also do realize you will lose many of your carefully improved skills over the years, as you will finally make the decision what you want to drop to become the worldmaster in the thing you want to improve further.
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If there's one thing you try to ignore than it is the opinion of others. You don't need them. Ever.
You don't need anyone. You used to outrule all the others around you just because you knew how they would react, and you could stop them before they had even started. They were predictable.
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You don't show your anger anymore. You don't scream, and you don't let your anger take over you, but any time you get angry, the temperature drops quickly to far below zero.
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.....the story never changes, just the names and faces.
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You had promised this to yourself a long time back. If only it hadn't come at such great costs. The loss of humanity, the loss of any connection to those who you live among.
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You have your weaknesses, your downfalls: fear. The demons of your past, and some of the present haunt you. You fear it. It's a primitive fear, something you can't control.
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Ever since you were young, you have been to smart for others. It already started in infants' class, but the event which is engraved in your soul took place in fifth grade.
In fifth grade, you were considered old enough to chose the speed at which you wanted to work, and in which order you wanted to do the assigments. You were delighted. You finally didn't have to work at the speed of others anymore, which meant you wouldn't have to wait hours because of how slow your classmates were. So you started to work and did the coursework for the whole week in just one single day, without answering one question wrong.
That was probably the moment that something changed which made you accept this, even made you be proud of it. Unfortunately, the teacher wasn't so happy with it, and she got angry at you, shouting that it was not possible to do as you did - although you just had proven the opposite - and she even went as far as accusing you of crib.
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You are not some dumb fifteen - soon to be sixteen - year old.
You are the town's dirty little secret, the vampiric, brilliant loner that no one ever spoke to in school, because 'wouldn't that ruin your reputation'?
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Those around you do not see the intentions behind your actions. They don't know why you do what you do.
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Naive fools, they are. Appearance can be deceiving.
They'll never be able to understand you. They are afraid of what they can't understand. So does that mean that they fear you? Are they afraid of who you are, afraid of who you will become?
Good.
Angels
A little word on forehand
This story is based on what happened during the summer after fourth grade. However, it is a mixture of a lot of things, and what happened only is a side story. I never actually finished this story. Let me know whether you think it's worth finishing.And of course, I will have to credit the person who came up with the last sentence. Thank you very much, Tom! I really like your addition.
Arigatou Gonzaimasu,
Kurai-hime
It
was nice, having someone you trusted, someone to walk around with, and
have fun. Sometimes, she made you feel like you really belonged among
humans. Like you could just be one of them anyway… without having to
change.
But in the end, it just turned out to be entirely different. Your friend,
she betrayed you. You were alone again. And you were hurt. Really hurt.
It surprised you. You hadn’t expected that you were able to feel any
pain anymore after all this time. You thought you had gotten used to
being betrayed; thought that it wasn’t possible anymore to hurt you
with such an act. You were proved wrong.
She
changed oh so suddenly. You hadn’t noticed anything… you blame yourself
for that. Now you think back, you can see some signs… but they didn’t
mean anything. Not then, at least.
The
girl you used to know is lost forever. After all, what died in the
past, is forever lost. She had become someone entirely else. An enemy.
She
had started to wear different clothes. Clothes that exposed a lot of
skin… more than clothes should, according to you. You know very well
that the rest of the world didn’t seem to think that way, but it seemed
that the only fabric of the whole thing was used to put the price-label
on, in the shop where she bought it. Dear god, can she possibly wear
something what exists of even less fabric?! You don’t think so.
She
started to just flirt with random boys. Call it old-fashioned, but it
disgusted you. You couldn’t see the point of just trying to impress
someone with your body. ‘Cause that was what it was all about; doing as
everyone else did: getting a boyfriend. A boyfriend who doesn’t want
you for the person you are, but because of your looks. Everyone does
it, so she follows them.
It made you wonder what happened to the nice girl you knew. A little whore, that’s what she has become, you think when you see her walking down the street trying to gain attention from another guy.
Suddenly you are ‘the know-it-all’, ‘the goody-goody’. Apparently she never knew you.
She used to be a really kind, sweet person. Used to be. Now, her attitude makes you feel sick. What happened? What did you ever do wrong?
Now
she hasn’t got any idea about the world. The real world, that is.
Because, her world exists in between the H&M and the corner of the
street, where they sell more make-up than anyone can ever possibly
need. But that’s your opinion…
She
heads the call from the others… In some way she has picked up some
subliminal message that made her become an idiot, a… Barbie-doll.
Her ignorancy has become frustrating, and hearing her angelic voice but irritating. And the friendship you felt for her has turned into hate.
They keep telling you how disgusting people like you are. What should you do with that message? You know they hate you, for being different, for wearing black, for being too smart, for not being a member of the pink pony club. Your own, personal fan club.
You can’t remember that you ever were invited for the official opening, but apparently some of the girls around you took it up themselves to start it.
It was pathetic. Not to say terribly annoying. You were disgusted when you found out that wherever you went you were greeted by screaming and whispers.
Great, exactly what you needed. More fools who pay attention at your business. Exactly what you always wished for… wished for never to happen, to be exactly.
People are always saying things about you. Did it ever occur to one of them that you can hear them?
“Did
you see her?” “Yeah, oh my god, she’s such a poser.” “Yeah, she only
wears that stuff to get attention. I bet she cuts herself every night.”
“What the fuck makes her think she’s so special? I bet she just does it
so that people will feel sorry for her. As if…”
Did it ever come up in that brainless heads of them that you don’t want attention? Especially not theirs.
Oh
dear, looks like their mothers didn’t teach them manners. Whispering
about someone is so rude. Why don’t they just say it to your face?
You
truly wish they would, but on the other hand you know very well that
this is something that is bound to remain a wish forever. They will
never tell you what they think of you to your face. They’re too afraid
of you to do so.
Funny.
Perhaps you can use that against them, one day?
They
sure as hell ain't gonna tell you what they think about you. Not that
this really matters. There are other ways to find out what people are
whispering about you. One just need to know where to find these ways
and how to use them. And that’s something you do know… Not that the
outcome is of much use. Mostly it are just some gossips about cutting
or other absurd things.
x
But don't worry, dear. I’ll write such a story about you, and I’ll let you read it.”
You kept your promise, and wrote it. It, being a letter addressed to her. A letter, full of anger, hate, and annoyance,
Kim,
So pathetic. That’s the only way I can think of you now.
You
seriously didn’t expect me to find out, did you? You seemed to think I
didn’t notice anything. I may ignore idiots’ gossips usual, but I’m not
blind and deaf, though. What did you take me for, a complete imbecile?
I now know that the answer is, most likely, yes.
Well,
I’ve got news for you, I’m not. I thought you would know that, but
you’ve proven to be too ignorant to realize this. After all, it isn’t
about you.
But I may have been naïve, I’m not that stupid.
I’m not you.
I
know everyone has the right to be stupid, but you have broken the
rules. It’s such a shame stupidity isn’t painful, really. If it was,
I’d be saved from having to see your face for another year, and hearing
your really ‘angelic’ voice…
You wouldn’t be such a big loss to the world anyway.
Can
you shut up for once? You said to others I was boring you so much and
that I wouldn’t shut up, but in face, Kim, you are the one who can’t
shut up. You keep on telling everyone your opinion, but you never have
anything to say. You never say anything sense. Still you want everyone
to have the same opinion as you do, or was it that you want to have the
same opinion as the group of people you want to belong to so badly, but
never will be? It doesn’t really matter. All that matters to you is
that everyone adores you, and bows down for you. Well, I’m sorry, but I
won’t kneel for you, princess airhead. Find yourself something to talk
about first. You always think you’re so right, but in the end you’re
nothing but completely wrong. Always. You’re a failure, Kim. Nothing
but a failure.
You
think you know what everyone needs. You have no idea. Get a life! Oh,
wait… I’m sorry, you have a life. A pathetic dull and empty existence
that doesn’t deserve it to be called a life. I should have said; get
rid of that pathetic existence of yours. Get rid of you.
I wouldn’t shed a tear if you did. Not anymore.
You truly are an idiot. The hair dye must have affected your brains. Pink hairdye. Sometimes
when you asked me to explain something to you, and I explained it to
you in a way a four-year old would understand, you’d just stare at me
with those big cow eyes of you.
They match the rest of you perfectly.
I
can’t believe you’ve been doing this to me. You’re cold, ruthless,
senseless, cruel, controlling, fake, ignorant and selfish; just like
the women in those terrible soap shows you like to watch.
‘Congratulations, you’re on the to next round of Idiots’.
Actually,
that'd work for me too. Because, how can't I have seen what you were up
to? You liked me. And I think I know why. It's very easy to have a
friend who is smart, who does your schoolwork for you, and who'd pretty
much do everything for her friends.
This
is all about you. You and your games. You and your idea that you can
have whatever you want. You got rid of me in the most cruel way you
could come up with, as soon as you had found someone more useful.
Someone less strange. Well, obviously, you don't have to listen to
anything I say now. And I doubt you'll care that I'm forever silenced,
I'll never let you close to me again, I'll never utter a word to you
again. Don't try me, you'd only end up getting paid for all you did.
Don't
tell me you didn't mean it this way. Your little stories and alternate
versions only make you seem more sick and twisted than you already are.
You are fucked up, Kim, and I want you to know - lies get you nowhere
now.
Me,
¤¤¤
But no matter what she did to you, you won’t go as low as she went. You won’t be so pathetic.
Try me, you think – almost amused, and you’ll regret it.
¤¤¤
God,
you’d love to kill her. You have to control yourself. You have to,
otherwise there might be very unpleasant consequences. And prison rape
is not an experience you want to have lived.
How
dare you to tell such lies. You know I didn’t write such a story. It
doesn’t exist, and even if it did, I wouldn’t let you read it, you think, shaking because of anger.
Her
ideas were disturbing. She claimed that you had written stories about
other people. You had not. She claimed that you wrote the most terrible
things about her and those around you. You had not. She was your
friend, you’d never do such a thing to a friend. Never.
She claimed that you had let her read it, and a few of her new friends
claimed that they had read it to. How could you ever let someone read
something you have never written? Besides, if you really had written
such a thing, you wouldn’t let the person it was about read it, would
you? How stupid do they think you are?
It was all just a lie.
Sparkling angel, you couldn’t see her dark intentions, her true feelings for you.
It
took your heart to see what she did. Her broken promise made you
realize that it was all just a lie. And in the end, your heart turned
to ice.
You are not sure what annoys you more: the
fact that you considered her your friend, or the fact that you didn’t
see it coming. “In the end,” you whisper bitterly, “is the only person you can trust yourself.”
You
thirst for revenge. They have been messing with the wrong person… Such
a stupid girl, approaching you after what she did to you. How dares she!
¤¤¤
There won’t be an escape for her anymore. She was running out of places to hide from you. Foolish girl, next time you should kill me before burying me, you think cynically.
“Congratulations dear,” you hiss. “You’re on to the next round of Idiots.”
You grin coldly. “If I were you, Kim, I’d shut my arrogant mouth. You have absolutely no right to speak. But…” you paused for a little while, “…if
you really need my answer that badly, I will answer you. I will answer
by laughing. At you, at your ideas, and most of all, at your pathetic
desire to be part of the in-crowd. You are pathetic.
Try to threaten me again, and I’ll kill you. And that’s a promise…” You then turned your back at her, and walked away, making sure there wasn’t even the slightest hint of emotion visible. That’s a promise, Kim. And I will do it with a smile on my face.
¤¤¤
You’re in pain. It hurts. It hurts so much. It’s a beautifully excruciating. You close your eyes and pray for the pain to come. Words flow from your lips as a prayer in a long-forgotten language. Pain is good, you think.
¤¤¤
“Hello,” he says, “How are you?”
He…
is your true vulnerability. And the only person you trust. Because, he
is like you. Because he’s your only friend. No, he’s not just a friend.
He’s everything.
You didn’t let him close for a
very long time. He didn’t seem to mind, he even understood. But even
though you didn’t fully want to, you started to care for him. It
happened very slowly, but in the end, you realized that you loved him.
You loved him…
You always used to think that
things like love and friendship don’t exist. Only such things as a
desire to get paid or to get laid; mankind’s basic instincts. But he
made you realize that love did exist. To you, he was the living proof
of that.
He never forces you to something, and he doesn’t judge you.
When you met him, you were so depressed,
and when you look back to the past now, you can’t help but thinking
that you appeared to be close to breaking down; close to ending it
permanently. You guess that ‘they’ were right after all. ‘They’, being
the human beings around you who you despise. Back then, you kept
telling everyone that you weren’t suicidal, not even depressed. You
kept repeating that to everyone, whether they wanted to listen or not;
as some sort of absurd mantra.
When you were
eight, you told everyone that you weren’t afraid of the dark, because
you figured that if you told enough people, you’d eventually convince
yourself. In some sort of way, this situation wasn’t any different.
But
it worked. You convinced them, and far more important; you convinced
yourself. You got over the depression. Got out a lot stronger.
He
certainly saved you. Because no matter how down you felt, and no matter
how terrible life was, when you got home, he was waiting for you.
Always. He asked you “how are you?” and it always seemed as if he
really cared.
You won’t let the depression take
you down again. You have embraced the darkness in your heart long ago,
but you won’t let yourself be tricked into that dark black hole again.
Not ever again. As long as he’s there, you can deal with everything. It
doesn’t matter if it are the fools around you, or your family, or
whoever else, you won’t let anyone get you. They will never be able to
change you. Never.
And every day, when you put
the dog collar around your neck, and put the black lipstick on your
lips, you look in the mirror, and you can smile. Genuine. Because, they
will never get you. Ever. As long as you have him, you can take
whatever shit will happen to you.
¤¤¤
To quote Nietzsche – a German philosopher of whose work you are very fond; “To those human beings who are of any concern to me I wish suffering, desolation, sickness, ill-treatment, indignities – I wish that they should not remain unfamiliar with profound self-contempt, the torture of self-mistrust, the wretchedness of the vanquished: I have no pity for them, because I wish them the only thing that can proe today whether one is worth anything or not – that one endures.”
¤¤¤
There’s
one thing no one would expect of you: You like to play snake on your
cellphone. You discovered this one night when you were unable to sleep.
You don’t know why, but you got sort of addicted to it. You loved it.
It taught you a important lesson:
‘Get what you can, don’t give in to pressure, don’t run into your past,
don’t go down dead ends, and don’t cross the boundary lines.’
x
Welcome
to the world of the remotely rich but (thank god!) not so famous. The
so-called upperclass; better known as ‘snobs’. The world your parents
belong to.
People
might envy you because of the wealth and privilege you were born into,
but there is nothing to envy. What are an expensive house, and
vacations everywhere worth when you can’t be free, when you aren’t give
the freedom to be yourself?
It’s your private silver cage.
It was just captivity.
You created two masks. One for the world around you, and one for at home…
¤¤¤
People expect you to drink. They expect you to get completely wasted. But then again, you were never one to live up to expectations.
You
hate alcohol. There’s a simple reason for that: Alcohol makes people
relax; makes them let go control. And that’s what you fear: losing
control… losing control over yourself to be exactly. You may not be in
control over anything else, but you are in control over your mind, your
consciousness.
People
keep bothering you about this, your wariness of alcohol. Not just the
fools around you, but also your parents. Oh, well, they can be
considered to belong to the idiots too. Sometimes. Because, you have to
be fair. Your parents are not exactly what you’d call brainless. You
have to admit that they truly are intelligent people. Just don’t tell
them you said that. The problem with your parents is that they just
don’t know how to understand you.
Not that they appear to really want that…
The
amount of pills they’re taking counteracts the booze they’re drinking.
‘Cause they don’t just drink alcohol… but many of them also experiment
with pills. Drugs, to be exact. And not the prescribed ones.
Perhaps you’re worrying about nothing. Perhaps you should just be glad they’re not using Heroin or Cocaine. Still…
¤¤¤
You
find it hard to stay with the words they say. The only thing that makes
you remain where you are, acting like you don’t care, is the fact that
they don’t deserve to win.
You don’t look down,
as if you are hurt, you look up, careful not to make eye-contact with
one of ‘them’. Because, for you, looking at them would be reckoning
they were right in doing what they did. They were not.
Well, you choose the life you’ve taken, never mind the friends you’re making.
And the beauty that you’re faking, lets you live your life like this. You are faking everything, like that wasn’t obvious by now… You’ve been faking all along. You wear a mask. Always.
You were never one for happiness, and you rarely smile. Most of the time, you just fake a smile. Your happiness is a lie, and everyone buys it. No one ever realizes that there is always something behind that laugh of yours; a second emotion, something they don’t see. And a smile that doesn’t meet your eyes.
Except for him.
He always seems able to make you smile. And it’s a genuine smile. Not one of those fake ones you flash at ‘them’.
Even loners have someone who cares about them, no matter how hated they are by the world. Even they have someone who understands them. You know that no one will ever be able to fully understand. You don’t really mind. They don’t give a shit about you, so why bother them with such a thing? They won’t be able to see what he means to you. They only know their childish crushes, based on looks and popularity. This is something so entirely different. You could of course explain it to them, but you’re afraid their poor brains wouldn’t be able to deal with such information. Just imagine that they might explode…
¤¤¤
You
don’t care how much they invest in you. It won’t work out anyway.
They’re from a different race. To them you’re alien. You don’t really
belong among them. Never did.
So
you’ll just hang in there, until the day that you finally will be free.
The day you turn eighteen, will be the first day of a new life, of a
new existence. An idiot-free existence.
The
day that no one will be allowed anymore to try to mess with your life,
with you. And the day that no one is able to tell you what’s allowed
and what not; and who you’re allowed to talk to and who not. No one.
That day is the end of an era; but also the birth of a new one. The
beginning of life itself. (?)
¤¤¤
He’s always there for you. He cares, no matter what. You’re grateful for, because you feel you’re not in this alone.
And if the world needs something better, let them give one more reason now.
You’re in this to the end.
And
what’s the worst you take from every heart you break? Probably the bad
memories. The hate. The hate you cause. Another person who can’t stand
you. Another person who tries to bring you down.
Well, you’ve been holding on tonight.
¤¤¤
What’s the worst thing you could say? Are things truly better if you stay?
You were so hurt she sold. She sold her soul to the ‘devil’, and there was nothing you could do. She is lost. Forever. Goodbye, Kim. Or is it Kimberly now? It doesn’t matter. Farewell.
Can she even hear me? Probably not. It doesn't matter, actually. Because, I have him. He is near me. Always. He’s by my side when everyone else leaves me. Love me or leave me… oh, everybody’s gone… that’s my life. Leave me…
As long as he cares, you will never have a fear, except losing him.
¤¤¤
"I’m sorry."
Yeah right. You’re sorry. And about what will that be, exactly?
NaNoWriMo
. I was planning to finish and make it to 50.000 words, but unfortunately some things happened and I did not write for a whole month. However, I will finish this story at one point. Just not within the month. And, I will try again, next year.
If you are interested in NaNoWriMo, make sure you check out their website:
NaNoWriMo
for now, sayonara,
{The Queen}
Day one
I do not
know why I escape to Neverland all the time, if I am completely honest. Maybe
because I do feel safe there. Neverland… in Dutch it is called
‘Nooit-Gedacht-land’ which means as much as ‘Never though of land’. In the most
superficial description of my little world, I’d say that it is a place one has
not to think but can simply hide, can simply disappear from the world. For a
little while, for longer, it is a place where one can feel safe.
That is
something I do not feel very often. It is not because of actual fear that I
hide but because of something I do not really understand myself either
“The world
is truly like Wonderland, like
“But why
do you mind so much about life? DO not go and tell me that you are so attached
to life. If you would be, you would not escape to this dark world ever so
often.” Amen grinned. “Or is it so that you simply want to be in my company?”
“Darling, if I wanted to be near someone with the attitude of Captain Hook, I
would go to his pirate ship, don’t you think?” She grinned. “Maybe it is that I
prefer living near someone who admits to be what he is, instead of being
surrounded by blinded superficial sheep.” Amen smirked sarcastically. “Of
course you do, Tink.” Referring to the little fairy that always accompanied
Peter Pan, Tinkerbell. “But why do you give up on life so easily? You still did
not answer my question? You can better make sure this will not keep going on
this way. Answer
“No,” she said. “I will not.”
“Answer
me. You know what I can do.” “And what will that be? Chopping me in small
pieces, or dropping me in the sea as food for the crocodiles?” Seth smiled
coldy. “I will not wait till Peter will come and save me. I’m not Tigerlily. I
will not wait for anyone. I don’t need to be rescued. I rather get eaten by the
crocodiles. I tell you again, I will not answer you.”
“And why
will you not give me any answer? Tell me that,” he demanded. “No.” She said.
“Simply because I don’t want to.” “Don’t be so strongheaded.” “Why not? You
know that this is what I am. I may be a gril but that does not mean that I will
do as I am commanded. If you think differently, that is your business. I have
been treated like a piece of junk before, do not think that I will care if you
act the same way.”
“No…?” He
asked. “I think you will. After all, you can choose between being stuck here
with me and going back to the real world.” “pft…” she reacted. “The real world.
As if it is much different from this.”
“I never
said so,” Amen answered. “The one difference is that you know I can’t do
anything to you here, while in real life, I may have killed you.”
“Yes,” She
said. “I wanted to ask you about that. How on earth did I end up here with
you.” The man looked amused. “Don’t you know? It is a very easy explanation,
though. I killed you.”
Seth did
not react. Even Amen could not see what she was thinking. He was not entirely
sure whether it was possible, but if it was, she could also have died because
of shock. But then she laughed. She laughed out loud. That was it, she had
gotten insane.
He was
wrong. She hadn’t gotten insane in the slightest way. In a certain way, she
appreciated his actions.
“Well,
what did you do?” She asked him eventually, not really caring about it. “I
killed,” the man answered. “Und?” She asked, not event he slightest impressed.
“What und?” “Do you expect me to be impressed or something? I cannot say I am
very grateful, you see. Now, the least thing you could do is explain to me
where I am?”
“where you
are?” Now the man was laughing. “Stop laughing, you idiot,” she commanded.
“Answer my question.” He saluted. “Yes Madam. Well, you are in Neverland.” She raised an eyebrow. “You got to be kidding
me,” she said. “Neverland… tss. Now you are going too far.” “Oh, but it is, you
are in Neverland. Haven’t you read
“It is a fairytale,” she burst out. “ What would that matter?” Amen asked. “It
does not mean it has not got any meaning! In all the old tales there is some
sort of truth.” “Of course,” Seth answered, not believing a word of it. If one
would ask her, the man in from of her was talking complete nonsense.
“Oh
alright, I will tell you,” Seth exclaimed. She simply couldn’t bear the silence
any longer. It made her think about things she did not want to think about. “I…
err…. Quite enjoy my life, to be honest. It is just… I’m not used to this kind
of thing.
“Tut tut,
Don’t behave so arrogantly, girl.” He warned her. “And why not?!” She questioned.
“Because – and you know this very well – I might run out of you. And if I do
so, what would you do then. You would simply be lost.” Seth rolled her eyes.
“And you dare to call me arrogant? You clearly never heard yourself speak. And
to get back to what you tried to tell me. I would be perfectly fine if you
would leave. Come on, go. Go if you are so desperate to get rid of me. I can
save myself. And that is something
even you know. Yes, I do know that
it bores you. I know that I bore you.
If that is such a burden to you, why don’t you go on and find yourself some
other company? Maybe because you know that you will find no one here who is
able to understand your strange words, maybe because you came to care about me. What would they say if anyone in real life
found out? Your murder friends, for instance? The cold-hearted killer cares
about a girl. The assassin fell in love with the same girl who was his target.
It’s absolutely pathetic and you know it!” “Women! They are so blind. Even when
things are obvious, they do not see it,” he retorted. “Women? Hah! And what
about men… they don’t even understand any hint which a woman would describe as
so damn obvious that even an idiot would understand it. But I see… you are not
an idiot, are you? No… you are much worse. Shall I repeat it, just once, for
you? Yes, I think I will. I was saying: if you are not happy with the way
things are now, go find some other place to spend time, find some other company
which does suit your taste. Anything
is fine, as long as it is far away from me. I’d rather sit here with Captain
Hook! At least he knew how to be polite to a woman.”
“Do not do
that…” she whispered. Amen looked at her, questioning. “Why not?” She remained
silent, simply staring at him. “Don’t look at me that way... just tell me why
not…” She still did not say anything. “Okay, if you do not want to talk to me,
we will just wait.” And with those words he turned his back at her, looking to
the sea, away from her. She hated it. But she wouldn’t tell. She simply would
not. She did not want to. And even if she would have wanted she would have been
unable to say the words which were playing through her head.
Sometimes
she would love to hit him. To make ultimately clear to him that she was not
some idiot girl, a Barbie doll. But she knew it wouldn’t do any good. After
all, she was just
“You are
not dead. There, I have said it. You are here because you still have a choice.”
“A choice… huh! Do not come up with some lame story about me taking the right
path from now on, and changing my life. But please go on, you are quite amusing
me.” “Oh shut up, I am being serious. You can stay here, and live your life
happily ever after. Never growing up, spending time with the fairies. In other
words, you would become one of the lost children.” “The Lost Boys, you mean.”
“No, I did not. If I meant that, I would have said it. Besides, you are not
exactly a boy, are you?” “How funny,” Seth reacted annoyed. “And what exactly
does going back mean?” “Simply this: you will grow up further, and once you are
twenty-five this will all seem like some childish world, a dream. Just like
Neverland lost it’s meaning to Wendy, it will become quite meaningless to you. It
will become a story you will tell your children if you ever have them, and otherwise
you will tell it to your nephews and nieces when they are little. But it will
not seem like it ever really happened to you. The choice is yours.” “But, by
going back, I can study, and write and live.” “This is living too!”
“No it is
not… You may be like Peter, but… I am not. It is a childish dream never to grow
up but I am beyond that stage. I actually want to grow up. Being a child is not
fun at all, you see. People treat you like you are too young to talk about
anything to them. And if you are like me, your peers will treat you like you
don’t exist. In other words, they will ignore you. Except if they can use you.
If you have to explain tests to them, they suddenly are all around you, like
chickens flock together when they are going to be fed. I don’t want to be like
that forever. I want to be an adult with a nice job and a place for my own,
even if that means I will have to do exactly that what I always pushed off
against. Be a good girl, graduate with nice notes and go to university. Going
to law school, finding someone and settling down. Maybe you fear growing old
but I do not think that it is fun to see people pass by; being born, growing
up, getting old and dying, while you yourself are always the same. However that
does not mean that I do want to get old and wrinkled, being old does not
necessarily mean that you lose your lust for life. Believe me, Amen, no one
wants to die.” She shook her head. “And yes, I do realize that this is a very,
very odd thing to say to an assassin.”
Amen grinned. “But, don’t you think it is very tempting to stay young forever?”
“Of course it is not,” she reacted. “Only a man can say such a thing. But of
course, to you age does not matter much. You will always be a child. Because,
most men never grow up. In their hearts, they will always be little boys. You
know the saying: ‘Boys will be boys’. Some things never change. Even when you
are going to get old, you will still have something of a child in you.”
“If that
is true, then how come that it are men who are attracted so much to the idea of
never growing old?” she got told.
“Because
men are, in the end, all the same, they always like something that is much
younger than they are themselves. Especially when we are talking about the
subject ‘women’. Men are always lusting after some young blonde with big
breasts, or so. Maybe they want to stay young because when they are young, it
is a lot easier to get a girl then when they are old and wrinkled and ugly. I
do not know. How should I? I am not a man, as you pointed out yourself, only a
few minutes ago,” she answered.
“Is that so,” Amen said, not believing a single word of what she had said. “If
it are just men who want want to stay young forever, why then are there so many
women who visit plastic surgeons? Filling up their lips, injecting botox to get
rid of their wrinkles for a while. Do not tell such lies, dear. I do not
believe a word of what you said. Do not go and tell me that you want to get
old, with a bad skin, and grey hair, shrinking and finally dying? Maybe you will
die a quick dead, maybe you will die because of cancer, or maybe your mind will
get bad and turn against you, leaving you behind no better than a child; in a
state which could be even worse. You do not want that and you know it yourself
too. You have got to be kidding me if
you are going to say that you want to end like that. Besides, the former pope,
John the twenty-third once said about men: "Men are like wine. Some turn to vinegar, but the best improve with
age."
“I do not
want to get old like that. I do not want to.” She turned her back on him,
making sure he could not see her face. When he finally forced her to look back,
he seemed not to know what to do with the situation. Seth shook off his hand
and looked away again.
Amen sighted. “You are going to tell me what is bothering you,” he said to her.
“No. I am not going to do that. It is my business.” “Well, since we are stuck
here together, and we will have something to do, you can talk me in, meanwhile.
And do not think I will let it go off simply because you do not want to talk
about it. I do not care about the fact that you absolutely do not want to talk
about it with me.”
Seth remained silent. She simply
could not express what was bothering her. All sorts of thoughts were going
through her head, making her feel as if she was caught in a hurricane.
“Don’t you
dare to command me in such a way. Just because you do not have enough self
control, it does not mean that I have to listen to your constant moaning. Stop
pointing out at me what I should be doing, I know it perfectly well myself. It
would be a lot better if you would worry about your own business, instead of
mine.” She suddenly felt really empty. Damn, she had gotten angry without
wanting to. “I am not some possession of you, if that is what you think! I am a
human, with my own values and my own way of co-operating, and I refuse to let
myself be treated as a weird robot which you can command to act exactly the way
you want it to act.
“Why do
you always behave so perfectly?” Amen asked amused referring to earlier, when
he saw how she folded up her clothes, before diving into the water. She looked
at him, puzzled. “Please explain your question, I do not think that I
completely understand it.” “What you did with your clothes, folding them up. The
way you talk, the way you move… it is all so controlled, as if you were raised
by some soldier who trained you instead of learning to enjoy life.” “But I do enjoy life,” she replied honest, but
without showing much enthusiasm.
“What
about you?” “What about me?” “Why do you always behave so cold, so distanced
and still so interested. To me, it seems as if those three things do not go
together very well. It could be just me, but still… would you please explain it
to me, if you do not mind about it?” she asked. “Because, you have been asking
me questions all the time, making me understand things about myself that I did
not know before. But what about you? I do not know a thing about you so far…
She hung a
few of the wild cherries on her ears, making her look like a little girl. And
in fact, that was how she felt. As a little girl. She used to do this when she
was really little, too. When she went with her grandfather to the market place
and he had bought cherries, she would pick a few who were still connected to
another cherry by their small stems. Then, she would hang them at her ears and
pretend she was wearing beautiful jewelry. That was what they were to her;
beautiful jewelry.
It might
seem so silly, but it was a memory that she cherished, because she it reminded
her of her grandfather, and of the time she could still enjoy everything
without being afraid of what the
consequences of anything she would do, would be. The time she was still
innocent enough to believe that everyone was good and that all was bright. Or
maybe that wasn’t even true, maybe in her heart, she knew that life wasn’t like
that. It just had not become as clear to her as that it would be when she grew
up. However, it reminded her of her childhood.
What she
missed most was the writing. She used to do that all of the time.
Day two
“I came so
close to the edge, and no one every noticed. It is silly, wouldn’t you agree,
to worry about this.”
“I may be
a girl, that does not mean that I am very easy. Maybe that scares away people.”
“Feelings
of lust confuse me, I will confess that,” Seth said softly. “I do not know how
to interpret them. I do not know what to do with them. I guess that I just do
not know how to accept them into a relationship. It is silly, don’t you think?
The thing is, I may not look like it, but I am unbelievable insecure of my
body. You may not believe me, I know for sure that you will not, that is the
reason I never told anyone before. I simply could not. Because, I was sure that
no one would understand. Still am sure of that.
When did
your heart go missing.
People may
think that my family is completely dysfunctional, I myself know that this is
not true. People always keep on comparing it with their own family. Of course,
then it is an easy game. My family could never win that. However, in their own
way, my family is great. Yes, they may not support me all the time, only when
they think that I am right
That kind
of hurt her. Apparently she was not even interesting enough to stay awake for.
“However,
it is absolutely not right to consider it as your right to just say things
without really thinking about it and then hurting people without even knowing
that you did so.” “And why would I not know that I hurt anyone?” he asked.
“Simply because of this. Not everyone shows his or her feelings so easily. Some
people simply can not act in such a way. They are not so open as you may be.
However, that does not mean that they can not be hurt by your words.
“In the
end, all girls do the same. They find a boy, settle down, and they marry. They
do not think, they are happy with the way that it is. They do not worry about
tomorrow, and if they do, they do not worry about it in the way that they
should. Not in the way that I do. After all. They may be here tomorrow and they
may be happy, but their dreams will not be here. Their dreams will be gone.”
She was silent for a moment, then continued. “Well, I do know that I am just a
child, I am even a child by law. INot an adult in any way. Not considered as
one by you and by the law, not treated as one. Not by you and not by anyone
else. It does not matter how grown up I may be, I will always be treated as the
little girl I once was. You do know. And you do know that I hate it. But that
does not change anything. Maybe I am a dreamer… Yes, I think that is what I am.
Because, I do not want to give up my dreams, I cherish them like treasures
because they represent everything that I want to achieve once in my life. They
may not all be quite realistic but that does not mean I want to give up on
them. If doing so means that I am finally becoming an adult, then I rather stay
a child, even though I then will always get the treatment I am getting now…”
Amen
laughed. “Are you saying that you are actually considering staying here?”
“Well… No…
yes,” she said, reluctantly. “In a strange way I do. In the back of my head, I
am considering staying and that, I do not even understand myself. I did not
particularly enjoy being a child. Do not enjoy it now. And yet, growing up
frightens me in the same way that remaining a child does frighten me. I judged
you, for wanting to stay here, for wanting to stay a child. If I insulted you,
I apologize. I guess I just did not know what to think of it. See, I want to
grow older, but I do not want to become desillusionated. Even more disillusoinated
than I am now already. I do not want to lose my dreams, the joy that I have in
living my life. Maybe staying a child forever will preserve such things as
dreams and illusions. Because, in the real world, in the adult’s world, those
things are as fragile as bubbles blown from soap suds on a summer day’s
afternoon. So easily destroyed, even the slightest blow of the wind can make it
burst.”
“Fragile
beauty is so easily destroyed, and that is what makes it so pretty. The idea
that it can be gone so soon, that it will not be for so long, that is what
gives it, it’s beauty. It is the same thing that makes butterflies so
beautiful. Because their beauty, their dancing in the sky can be gone in a
second. A butterfly can not fight the wind, when winter comes, it dies. That is
only natural. But, a human being can fight it. Can walk into the wind and
struggle and get through. It is not so very difficult as you may think it is.
And believe me on my word, maybe many of those careful, nicely settled adults felt
the same way as you do now. That they do seem settled down does not mean that
they have given up their dreams. Who told you that you should give up your
dreams? Because, honestly, you do not have to.”
“But what
if people expect it of me, what if people will hate me because I do still
dream, because I do not behave like them, like I have grown up? What if the boy
I like will dislike me for being whom I really am?”
“Why are
you worrying about that? Who on earth made you think people work like that. Do
not stay here if you are just wishing to hide. Only stay if you really want to.
Because, even Wendy, who was happy here went back to her own world, grew up and
got older, married. There is no need to be afraid not to be loved, really.
Everyone is loved by someone. And you
ought to know that. But, if you really want to stay, you are free to. Of course
you are. You do not need to grow up. Here you will always be treated as the
person you are, without having to hide. Without pretending to be someone else,
even to you parents and your friends, your classmates and everyone you know.
Here, it is just you and me and the fairies. There is no need to hide here. You
do not need to protect yourself by hiding behind high walls, behind a security
that is tighter than the one that is designed for the Pentagon. You do not need
to protect your heart of glass, do not need to continue that masquerade that
you have always have continued up till now, even to me. I can see through it,
and you know it. That mask of yours is fading away and we both know. Do not go
back if you do not really want to. Do not place this mask of yours back onto
your face, returning to playing a role you do not feel happy in. You are too
good for that.”
“There is
no one here who will force you to listen. To behave in a way that you do not
want to follow. Simply being you is enough. In a certain way, staying here is
like Rousseau’s idea of going back to the Nature.”
“Oh,
Rousseau’s paradise on Earth.” She said with a cynical laugh. “Just do know
that I refuse to play for a second Eve. This Eve would be too much of a
feminist to fall for someone like Adam. In fact, I reckon that she would be a
lot more like Lilith.”
Amen
looked surprised. “Please explain what you just said, Wendy. I think I do not
completely understand what you mean.” Since a little while, he called her wendy
ty whiles.
“Do not
tell me that you have never heard this joke! Well, then I will explain it to
you. First God created Adam and Lilith. They were alike to each other, created
from the same matter. But Lilith was way too unconventional for our dearest
Adam, so he went to God and complained about his wife. So, to please Adam, God
cast Lilith out of the paradise and she became the queen of ghosts and demons.
I do not think she got the worst job, but anyway… God then took a rib from Adam
and created another female. Her name was Eve and she had long blonde hairs and
was really beautiful and everything. Adam took his wife and for a little while
he was very happy with her. But it was not before long that he came back to God
and complained again. “Well, explain to
me what is wrong this time,” God said. “I
do have two questions for you,” Adam said. “The first one is this: Why did you make her so beautiful?” “Well,” said God. “that is something I did to make sure you will love her.” “But then tell me,” Adam said, “Why did you make her so stupid?” “That,” God replied, “is to make sure that she can love you too!”
Seth said, then adding: “I do not think that God really liked Adam. See, that
is why woman may be the deuxieme sexe,
as Simone de Beauvoir called them, they are also the sexe that is done best.
Every good artist needs to make a sketch before starting at the real work. Guess
what God used as a sketch.”
Amen
laughed. “Of course you would say that, since you are a girl. However, I say
that God does not exist.”
Seth
looked up. “Did I say I believed in God?! I do not think I did. I just told you
a joke concerning some biblical context. I can not help it if you draw a
conclusion too quickly.”
“Home is
behind. The whole world lies ahead of you and there are so many paths you can
choose between. It may be misty around you and you cannot see where you are
going. Still, this does not mean you can simply stand still or return. There is
no return, you can not go back to what once was for it is no longer. Wat was is
gone and things are forgotten, many things are forgotten. Even if you did not
want to forget them, even if they meant quite a lot to you, they may be
forgotten on your way. Not because you wanted to but because new things showed
up on your path, drawing your attention, filling your mind up with things which
are important to you at that very moment. Do you understand that? That is not
bad, really it is not. Even if you forget something, they do never really leave
you. They are still somewhere, hiding in a dusty corner off your brain, hiding
until something calls up that memory. It can be anything that triggers it. It
may be a word, a photo, a voice or a sound, or even a smell. It could be like
Marcel Proust described in his A la
recherché du temps perdu, which means as much as ‘in or to the search of
the time that is lost’. In his book, he tries to capture as many of his
memories as he can and at one point he describes that he smelled a certain sort
of small cakes, the so-called Madeleines. This reminded him of when of his
childhood, of times that he visited his aunt who would give him one of those
cakes. Anything can trigger a memory to come up out of apparent nothingness.”
“Beauty is
not simply looks. If that was true, then you could simply lie there, like a
porcelain doll, waiting for someone to take you up and play with you. It is the
way you move, the words that you speak that make you beautiful. It is the way
that you move, as graceful as no fairy can do better. Moving as if you are
dancing, as if you are Anna Pavlova dancing her most beloved solo in a ballet.”
“But that
beauty does not last for long. As soon as the music stops, as soon as one stops
with dancing, the enchantment that was cast over all those who had been
watching her, is gone. Once the music stops, the prima ballerina dies.”
“But now
you are referring to Anna Pavlova, are you not? Yes, she died. However, she died
doing that what she loved most. Dancing. She was touring with her company, when
she was dancing the role that fit her perfectly. She died in her most
magnificent role, the role of the Swan princess Odette. Dying while you are
doing what you love most, that cannot be so hard. In a way, we would all want
to be immortal, being able to live on forever, doing for ever and ever what we
like most, keeping those close to us who we love. But it is not possible. If
the price for living life with such a beauty and doing what you love so much is
dying rather young, I guess I would be willing to pay that price. Would you
not? Tell me, would you not?”
The girl
did not give an answer; she looked at the sea, at the ship she saw far away,
near the horizon.
“Listen to
me. It is easy to understand even though it is hard to have peace with it. We
humans do have limited time on earth, we only live for sixty, seventy, eighty,
maybe ninety if we are very lucky. But then, our time is simply over. We are
old and we have lived for very long. Of course, that does not mean we want to
go, but sometimes it is better. After all, in the end, our bodies do no longer
co-operate, no longer do our minds do what we want them to. They leave us
behind, bound like little children to their mothers. In that way we depend on
the nurses, on the members of our families, on our children and grandchildren
if we are fortunate enough to have them. Maybe then it is better to decide
ourselves that it is time to leave. We know that our lives were full, and even
though there is so much more we want to do; we cannot do it, because the
physical or the mental interferes. So, why can we not draw the line ourselves?
It may hurt those whom we leave behind, for they may not understand our
decision, but it is clear to us and they will learn to live with it. They will
get over it, and soon they will forget the bitterness they feel because of what
we have done. They only the good memories will remain, and it will leave them
with a faint smile on their face. In the end, they will admit that it was
better the way it went. They will be able to let go of it, continue to go on
with their life. And that is the way it should be.”
He looked
at Seth, seeing that he finally was getting through.
“So, why
can you not have a little peace with it? It is the way it goes. It is life.
Simply hope that it will not take to long, that when it happens she will not
suffer too much. Why can’t you do so?”
She looked
at him now, tears glittering in her eyes, while she was trying to hold them
back.
“Come
here, you silly girl,” he said, putting an arm around her. “Now tell me, what
is bothering you so much?”
“I do not
want it to happen… and that makes me feel so unbelievable egoistical… you have
no idea.”
“But it is
not egoism. It really is not. It is simply caring about someone. That is what
called love.”
“Just try
to be patient, just for once,” she said to him.
Amen shook
his head. “As an American journalist named Ambrose Bierce once said: patience
is a minor form of despair, which is disguised by people by calling it a
virtue.”
Seth did
not react. She had long learned that if there was one thing that would
absolutely not help, it was reacting at the many philosophical quotes of Amen.
She could not win from him in any way, so there was not exactly much fun to try
and go along in the game.
“Like our
former pope once said- yes another quotation,” he reacted when he saw the look
on Seth’s face, “he said: the family is the first essential cell of the human
society. You may disagree with me, but if you ask me, the old man said a lot of
true things. You see, before anything, your family influences you. Without your
family, you would not have been you. So even if you would hate them, they are
still very important for you. Even if you think differently. You do not hate
your family, do you?”
Seth shook
her head.
“No, I do
not,” she answered.
“When I
was a child I thought that I would have to have success to find some happiness.
By being the best, I thought people would care for me more, they would give me
some attention. I really thought that this would bring me happiness. I was
wrong. Happiness is like a butterfly which appears and delights us for one
brief moment, but soon flits away, leaving us behind, wishing to see more of
it’s beauty, but being unable to do so.”
“Believing
is not enough, I know that. In the end, it is the right thing to do. Not
listening to what I say in this matter. Because, fear is a strange thing,
stopping me from doing something that is perfectly normal, from the most
idiotic things. Until short, I was afraid to put in my own earrings, and had my
mother do that for me. Why I did so, I have no idea, if I am completely honest.
However, I just do not know how to get over this fear. In that way, you are
really great to me because you help me over it. Please do not feel bad because
of it. There really is no need to. You see, sometimes you really have to go a
little further than that I want.”
Day eleven
Day eleven
Day eleven.
“You are like a butterfly,” Amen said to her. Seth looked up, a surprised look in her eyes. “Explain that,” she said but Amen smiled enigmatic and remained silent. She shrugged and continued writing.
“I see now why you compared me to a
butterfly. Butterflies are so free, dancing around in the sky for forever and a
minute. They do not commit to someone, under any circumstance. They mate and
then fly off again. No commitment, no love, no worries and no every consuming
doubts. Being a butterfly is safe. A butterfly picks a flower and when it gets
bored of it, it flutters on. No risk to get hurt, safe. The safest way to
protect ones heart. No one gets hurt, no one gets to worry. No need to learn to
accept what is difficult to accept for you. Nothing that leaves your heart an
open wound. No need for time to heal it because there will be nothing that has
to heal. No need to get yourself over anything you do not want to get over,
because a butterflies life is light, because a butterfly can go through life,
floating on a summer afternoon’s breeze. It is easy, and one can live solitary.
And at the same time, it is life.”
“But is it possible for any human
being not to commit to something, to someone, in some way or another?” Amen
asked.
She sighed, knowing very well that
Amen had all the right in the world to get angry with her. She knew that she
was difficult. That she acted like a princess in a certain way. Hard to like,
arrogant and selfish. Behaving like a Princess. Not very easy to get along
with, and even harder to really understand. She knew that she was always
hiding, sometimes without even noticing she did so until someone would point it
out to her. Not that that many people noticed this in her. One had to get
really close to her, even closer than her family and many of her friends got to
her. As close as only two people had been before. But was she really hiding
behind walls, she did not even know it anymore herself. Hiding… it did not mean
much to her anymore. It had cost her a great deal. It had cost her too much.
And yet, she had always kept fooling herself. She was always telling herself
that it had been the fault of something, an outside factor, something that
really did not have anything to do with her. Maybe the walls that she tried to
keep in tact, tried to keep up, were not even there. Maybe that was just whom
she was. Maybe it was, maybe it was not. It was no so easy to find out now.
She could have made a wish upon a
star, but she doubted that it would be of any use. It did not mean much to her.
She did not believe in fairytales anymore. She did not believe anymore since
she was five, learning that life was not so easy as that it seemed in books.
And yet, she always returned to her books, seeking refuge in the stories, even
though they were unreal. A girl can dream, can she not? Maybe she should try to
believe again, maybe she should make a wish upon a shooting star.
I wish….
If she really was a butterfly, then
maybe this butterfly would forever be an enigma. Not just to the world, but
also to those around her, to those who tried to get close to her. Sometimes,
she even was an enigma to herself. The tears she had never been able to cry,
they would gather in her heart, would restore the gap that had appeared in the
walls around her heart. Trying to return her to the state she was in before. She
sighed. How long had it been since she had been really happy? She did not know.
Yes, she had been remotely happy with her boyfriend, and with her friends, but
it was a sad sort of happiness, for she knew it could never last, it was too
fragile to last. True happiness, she found in a book, which used to kidnap her
to another world. But maybe now she could return. The walls around her, they
would be rebuild, made of a material that was harder than diamond. Keeping the
butterfly caged inside, inside a prison of a material that was just as costly
as the butterfly was fragile. But no matter how costly her prison was, it would
always remain a prison. And in the end, a prison would still hold it’s old
function; keeping something or someone locked up, no matter whether the prison
was made of silver, diamond or of iron. The meaning of it would never change.
But she felt safe inside her cage.
She locked up herself, so to speak. She tried to protect a heart of glass. But,
there would always remain scratches. She could not get rid of them.