Attempting an essay that is seemingly impossible, I came up with the idea of writing a fanfiction story, then translating it to my life. Not sure how that's going to work out, but we'll see. Again- I own nothing but a cat with angel eyes who has done nothing wrong. Ever. Hope you enjoy- Reviews are welcome, but not necessary.
The question bounced around in her mind before hitting a sharp wall and shattering, sending reverberations throughout her brain.
She glanced down at the question. It was still there, the blank space below it just begging to be filled with lead and graphite.
"Name one goal you wish to accomplish in your lifetime."
She snorted. Was this an application for a dating site?
She looked at it again. It wasn't that hard, really. Just dig something up, knock it down on paper, and proceed to "How often would you say you work out; what do you do to work out, and how long do you work out for?"
It was simple, a child's math question. It was difficult, writing down a ten-foot proof in a sandbox that was jilted and moved every so often.
A goal... The phrase stayed in her mind, a rotating disco ball that tugged memories out of dark corners, showing her life.
When she had danced, hoping, knowing he couldn't come, that he had to work, trying to become the best dancer in the whole class, the most perfect dancer- not a curl out of place, not a spot or rip or tear on her clothes, not a foot placed in one wrong position.
When Tali had died, in the month that followed, the craziness that had consumed her. She would bring her back, somehow she would, she knew she would, and Tali would be happy, and everything would be normal again. She had snapped out of it when she was considering how to break into Tali's tomb so she could get enough hair for the resurrection doll.
When she had realized that she had feelings for Tony, feelings beyond the feelings one associated with a partner or friend. She had let hints slip out, placed not-so-well concealed verbal nudges- he had not understood. So she had let it rest.
Her mind flashed to Ray, a quick glance in which she absorbed everything and saw nothing. She pushed him away, an almighty shove that took all of her strength. He and his constant traveling- no, she would not go there. It would resolve itself or not.
A goal to accomplish in life... She wasn't fond of getting shot at, but that was not a conscious goal. Acknowledged, but then again, most goals did not involve terrorists who wielded guns with surprising accuracy.
She let her mind wander, then scribbled something down. Yes- this was what she wanted. The clock ticked rather loudly, and she took the time that lasted no longer than a hummingbird's heartbeat, and no shorter than the tick of a dead clock to watch the hand go by on its endlessly monotonous journey. It was late- she ran in the mornings. She neatly stacked the papers on the table and, after tapping them on the table so the bottoms lined up, washed her glass, turned out the light, and headed off to dreams of sugarplums.
The wind rustled in a cracked, creaking window. A paper separated itself, floating to the center of the table. The streak of a passing headlight illuminated the last sentence on the page for a short harmonious chord.
"My goal in life is to end up happy."
An owl hooted once, twice, then fell silent. The refrigerator groaned at its nightly burden. A sigh emerged from the bathroom.
All was quiet in the living, breathing night.