there's no place like home or the copernican principle

[sobota]

I've lost trace of what home really means, of my mother's obsession with candles and the bookshelf that towers over everyone. I'm an only child, whatever that means: petulant, pouting, making sure to get my way. (Loudmouthed, obscene, beloved.) I hold no confession, no valid observations, just things I've picked up along the way. No real scars, no real experience. Pretend you 'get' me, pretend you 'understand where [I'm] coming from, really' & I'll pretend to care when you give me advice.

It's not easy hiding, not easy stepping on a plane, running (away) when I never really know what's chasing me. I have 29 more hours until I have to make a real decision, the first one I have ever made. I could make lists; see my options in black & blue, see where my life has decided to take me without me even moving.

Believe me, if I could open my mouth and speak words that would change worlds, I would. If I could change someone's mind or even my own, I would. The world keeps on believing what it wants to believe while the preachers bang their pulpits selling a god that's past its (his) use by date, in a worn out package. Believing that time is cyclical while it marches like ants towards some inexplicable end just means you'll get caught in the rip tide, forward (and backward) motion.

Who gets my lies and who gets my truths? I am no prophet; I bring no message of hope & salvation. But I close my eyes and push play, and there he is. I have had a vision of my future, and I'm scared of saying anything. In case, like everything else I have ever hoped for, it doesn't come true. But it's pretty nice, and for once I'm happy.

My life came tumbling down, like an intricate picture made of dominoes. Or sand paintings that Buddhist monks spend hours on, only to destroy them after a day. Now I'm busy separating the colours and putting them back in their appropriate boxes, watching stupid shows on television and going to sleep at half three.

My mind's eye is ridiculously inaccurate, and gives me hope where there is none. I hate that nobody wonders, and nobody asks, and somehow your unhappiness is all my fault. I don't have anything much to contribute, except that everything slipping through my fingers makes me want to let go that much more.

Comments

[swirlsofblue.livejournal.com]

*Hugs* The sadness is so tangible here.

Such powerful descriptive imagery. Brilliantly put.

[adoptedwriter.livejournal.com]

Sad but so artfully worded. Hugs. AW

[i-17bingo.livejournal.com]

Pretend you 'get' me, pretend you 'understand where [I'm] coming from, really' & I'll pretend to care when you give me advice.

Usually I see this kind of vague as a cry for attention; a way of getting people to ask questions.

But this was different. This felt like a way of challenging the world, while at the same time leaving it open enough that anyone can fit in and feel what is being expressed here--the frustration, the sadness, the resignation, the rebellion.

This is haunting.

[jexia]

"My mind's eye is ridiculously inaccurate, and gives me hope where there is none."

My mind's eye is ridiculously inaccurate, and gives me none where there is hope.

[theun4givables.livejournal.com]

There's such a quality feeling of sadness, here. It just sucks one right in. <3

[roina-arwen.livejournal.com]

Okay, I'm most curious about this line:
I could make lists; see my options in black & blue...

Did you mean to write "black and white" or did you mean black & blue as in bruises, or as in black ink and blue ink, etc?

[sobota.livejournal.com]

All of those things. :) It was meant to be a twist on 'black and white' with 'beat me black and blue'.

[fitrms.livejournal.com]

You are an amazing writer!

[mallorys-camera.livejournal.com]

Very interesting, although I have to say I was dying for the reveal :-). Like what decision does your protagonist have to make?

[fodschwazzle.livejournal.com]

I agree completely. Even though it may not be my place to know, I can see the tension in the bowstring, and the arrow is nocked. This is, above everything, a much more cutting piece than the sensual that I'm used to seeing from you. It's nice to see your variance even though that change is rooted in distress.

[eternal-ot.livejournal.com]

Being the only child...I could relate to this at a different level somehow....A great read!

[crisp-sobriety.livejournal.com]

'I hold no confession, no valid observations, just things I've picked up along the way. No real scars, no real experience.'

That is a terrible thing to admit, which is why almost no one does. Even fewer actually mean it.

This is powerful.

[jem0000000.livejournal.com]

*hugs*