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Believing she's finally done it. Finally, truly, pushed herself past the edge where caring about absolutely nothing and no one but yourself becomes a mere daily pleasure; she sits and waits. No contemplation of how or why she does this is possible any longer. However, she does ponder why nothing holds taste, sounds no longer hold importance or vigor, and sight... Oh how she longs for something to wake to, how she longs for something... With color. No traumatic event induced such behavior. Her "volatility" usually forms some sort of cataclysmic excitement. But now... Now she looks for something else. She understands she is still human, capable of feeling because of her hunger. For what, she is still unsure.
"I've felt this introduction to apathy before... This was the pretext to.." She stops, her words caught in her throat, as if the carbon itself has formed a shield in her larynx, preventing the unspoken and long-feared truth from protruding forth from her scarred lips. The eyes, they hold no bearing of reality. Hold no difficulty in seeing things such as violence or betrayal.
"Am I becoming what I've fought so long to destroy again...?" She asks, knowing that the only time this feeling had approached her was the precursor to the very events which destroyed her. True, her destruction thus brought forth her strong recreation. However, that recreation almost killed her. Moving on with the knowledge that if she does not slay the demon before it reincarnates itself... She will slay far more than herself; she weeps.
Not for lack of control, not for pity, nor for loss.
But for her unsightly, untimely and unchanging volatility.
 Alucarda Incarnate · Sat Jan 19, 2008 @ 05:40am · 0 Comments |
