The thought-train...... What happens when you just let yourself type
without planning. (A Grace/Dimitri story).
***Finding it all***
To be unknown in a world so grand, doesn't seem so bad. But to be unknown in your own life...
She went. She answered the door, letting him in without reluctance.
"Nice to see you again," She says without any meaning. Is it nice to see him?
He moves forward, taking an official step back into her life. She doesn't understand why he is here. Doesn't he realize the problems it could cause? He looks the same, but oh, so different.
Maybe, it's the lighting. Maybe it's that he's been out of my life so long. Maybe I've lost my touch. Maybe I'm falling too much.
"Grace, it's been a while, huh?"
A formal statement, to say the least. It doesn't begin to depict what they had shared. She eyes him curiously. What brought him back? What drew him into her little world once again? "When you called, you said you had something to say." She doesn't know why she agreed to this. She willing guided him back into her life. She had led him by the hand to her doorstep....
"Maybe it isn't a good idea that I came HERE," He says, seeing the face in the background.
A look behind. Zoe, wide-eyed, but she never knew him. She didn't have his face to place. Grace was safe.
"Then, we'll go." A coat taken, and a close of the door behind them.
And out to the car that seemed to glow with memories.
"We'll go to my house." He says, setting the stage.
"Fine." Is it fine? Is it okay? What is the meaning of all this? Why does she feel like she's sinking? Is it better to sink or to fly? Both have similar feelings of your limbs being useless. But one is trapped, and one is free. Which one does she mean to be?
Silence in the car that has had their silence before. It willing takes it again, absorbing the unsaid words and thoughts with hunger. Intensity, it aches for, and it shall receive. Questions fly back and forth, but never spoken aloud.
And then they are there. Casual walking up to the house. No words. Words would be useless. Instead they feel. They think, and oh, they remember.
Entering the house, for a long time since that one last night, she stumbles. Not over the steps, no, but in her head. She stumbles and tries to find her ground. But her footing won't place, and she finds herself falling on her face... not her real face. Her thought-face. And so, the physical outcome of her mental fall trail down her face. She cries.
He has turned and seen her tears. "Grace, Grace, grace..."
But she is grace-less, only a being of tears and sadness, and she lets it all out. Her closed-up thoughts, that had burdened her for so long. It all comes out, and she gives it to him. He accepts it, knowing that things are happening, and he could stop them, but that is not what he wishes. He wishes for her, for grace, for Grace.
The tears dry up, and her self comes back. This self is horrified at what has happened in her absence. 'How can you cry like that, you crazy fool!' But her self sees that he doesn't seem taken back. He is giving, and she accepts that. Things are happening.
He tells, explaining his side, he can do this without the tears she had shed when she had spoken. But, even though there are no tears, there is a noticeable difference in his eyes as he speaks. And she knows he is truth, and he is there. This is happening.
Words dry up, like Grace's tears. Neither can find the words anymore, and they don't know if they miss them or not. Would words be better at a moment like this? Or is simple feelings enough? Is looking into his eyes enough, or would it be better if she could pronunciate her sounds and letters, and put forth everything that way? No, this feels good. This feels right. Something is going to happen tonight.
"Why did you call me?" Grace asks, no not Grace... Grace had lost her words long ago, this was someone else using her mouth. But, whoever spoke, it was a good question.
"To find myself," August Dimitri says, and Grace assumes that he has the control of his mouth, for he spoke with sureness. He meant what he said. But, what does what he said mean?
Silence takes over once again. Grace accepts it willingly. She doesn't know what she could say, or what someone using her mouth could say. There is nothing to say... no, strike that, there is EVERYTHING to be said, but everything can't be said. And if everything can't be said, then nothing can be said. So, they don't speak.
She sees him. She sees his golden blue eyes. A golden man, taken off his shelf, and placed before her. Is it a gift? Can you give someone a whole person? But he's there. He's before her. He once was so unattainable, and now he is an offer to her. She can reach out and take it... if she wishes.
Does she wish?
He waits, in his own silent way. A million thoughts dancing on his tongue. He wants to spit them all out, to tell her everything. But he has said so much already, what more could he add? Was he really about to let out his whole entire being to a girl who might reject him? It seems it is that way. He doesn't know how he got to this point. He doesn't know what anything is anymore. What's up? What's down? What is me? What is you? Isn't it all the same? Aren't we all the same? We may try to be such individuals, but isn't it all one? Aren't we all one?
So, indeed, he finds himself telling everything. All about him... if there is such a clear distinction as 'him'... and he feels her heart joining his, as their thoughts join, and aha! He was correct. There are all one, if not then how could he FEEL her so much? How could he know her so much? It must be that he and her are the same, made from the same, created from the same... it's the only explanation.
He loves it. He loves feeling her, connecting with her.
She loves it. She loves feeling him, connecting with him. Her mouth finds the words, and they tumble out, and it is all her speaking, there is no doubt. She is the words, she is the silence between words. She is the air in the space between their riveted bodies. And he is these things too, since they are one.
Connected. Together. One.
Tears come, this is all so emotional. It is finding a drop of pure heaven when you least expect it. They take it willingly, drinking it in, and sharing in the glory. They have discovered something unusual, they sense that. They joy in that.
This does not happen lightly. People don't feel like this... not usually. So, they joy in knowing what they share is special. Knowing that it is true, and pure and amazing. They know each other. They are each other. They have loved, and they love, and they are loved.
And so the story ends... not really, of course. Once you find love, the story is just beginning..................
* * *
***Finding it all***
To be unknown in a world so grand, doesn't seem so bad. But to be unknown in your own life...
She went. She answered the door, letting him in without reluctance.
"Nice to see you again," She says without any meaning. Is it nice to see him?
He moves forward, taking an official step back into her life. She doesn't understand why he is here. Doesn't he realize the problems it could cause? He looks the same, but oh, so different.
Maybe, it's the lighting. Maybe it's that he's been out of my life so long. Maybe I've lost my touch. Maybe I'm falling too much.
"Grace, it's been a while, huh?"
A formal statement, to say the least. It doesn't begin to depict what they had shared. She eyes him curiously. What brought him back? What drew him into her little world once again? "When you called, you said you had something to say." She doesn't know why she agreed to this. She willing guided him back into her life. She had led him by the hand to her doorstep....
"Maybe it isn't a good idea that I came HERE," He says, seeing the face in the background.
A look behind. Zoe, wide-eyed, but she never knew him. She didn't have his face to place. Grace was safe.
"Then, we'll go." A coat taken, and a close of the door behind them.
And out to the car that seemed to glow with memories.
"We'll go to my house." He says, setting the stage.
"Fine." Is it fine? Is it okay? What is the meaning of all this? Why does she feel like she's sinking? Is it better to sink or to fly? Both have similar feelings of your limbs being useless. But one is trapped, and one is free. Which one does she mean to be?
Silence in the car that has had their silence before. It willing takes it again, absorbing the unsaid words and thoughts with hunger. Intensity, it aches for, and it shall receive. Questions fly back and forth, but never spoken aloud.
And then they are there. Casual walking up to the house. No words. Words would be useless. Instead they feel. They think, and oh, they remember.
Entering the house, for a long time since that one last night, she stumbles. Not over the steps, no, but in her head. She stumbles and tries to find her ground. But her footing won't place, and she finds herself falling on her face... not her real face. Her thought-face. And so, the physical outcome of her mental fall trail down her face. She cries.
He has turned and seen her tears. "Grace, Grace, grace..."
But she is grace-less, only a being of tears and sadness, and she lets it all out. Her closed-up thoughts, that had burdened her for so long. It all comes out, and she gives it to him. He accepts it, knowing that things are happening, and he could stop them, but that is not what he wishes. He wishes for her, for grace, for Grace.
The tears dry up, and her self comes back. This self is horrified at what has happened in her absence. 'How can you cry like that, you crazy fool!' But her self sees that he doesn't seem taken back. He is giving, and she accepts that. Things are happening.
He tells, explaining his side, he can do this without the tears she had shed when she had spoken. But, even though there are no tears, there is a noticeable difference in his eyes as he speaks. And she knows he is truth, and he is there. This is happening.
Words dry up, like Grace's tears. Neither can find the words anymore, and they don't know if they miss them or not. Would words be better at a moment like this? Or is simple feelings enough? Is looking into his eyes enough, or would it be better if she could pronunciate her sounds and letters, and put forth everything that way? No, this feels good. This feels right. Something is going to happen tonight.
"Why did you call me?" Grace asks, no not Grace... Grace had lost her words long ago, this was someone else using her mouth. But, whoever spoke, it was a good question.
"To find myself," August Dimitri says, and Grace assumes that he has the control of his mouth, for he spoke with sureness. He meant what he said. But, what does what he said mean?
Silence takes over once again. Grace accepts it willingly. She doesn't know what she could say, or what someone using her mouth could say. There is nothing to say... no, strike that, there is EVERYTHING to be said, but everything can't be said. And if everything can't be said, then nothing can be said. So, they don't speak.
She sees him. She sees his golden blue eyes. A golden man, taken off his shelf, and placed before her. Is it a gift? Can you give someone a whole person? But he's there. He's before her. He once was so unattainable, and now he is an offer to her. She can reach out and take it... if she wishes.
Does she wish?
He waits, in his own silent way. A million thoughts dancing on his tongue. He wants to spit them all out, to tell her everything. But he has said so much already, what more could he add? Was he really about to let out his whole entire being to a girl who might reject him? It seems it is that way. He doesn't know how he got to this point. He doesn't know what anything is anymore. What's up? What's down? What is me? What is you? Isn't it all the same? Aren't we all the same? We may try to be such individuals, but isn't it all one? Aren't we all one?
So, indeed, he finds himself telling everything. All about him... if there is such a clear distinction as 'him'... and he feels her heart joining his, as their thoughts join, and aha! He was correct. There are all one, if not then how could he FEEL her so much? How could he know her so much? It must be that he and her are the same, made from the same, created from the same... it's the only explanation.
He loves it. He loves feeling her, connecting with her.
She loves it. She loves feeling him, connecting with him. Her mouth finds the words, and they tumble out, and it is all her speaking, there is no doubt. She is the words, she is the silence between words. She is the air in the space between their riveted bodies. And he is these things too, since they are one.
Connected. Together. One.
Tears come, this is all so emotional. It is finding a drop of pure heaven when you least expect it. They take it willingly, drinking it in, and sharing in the glory. They have discovered something unusual, they sense that. They joy in that.
This does not happen lightly. People don't feel like this... not usually. So, they joy in knowing what they share is special. Knowing that it is true, and pure and amazing. They know each other. They are each other. They have loved, and they love, and they are loved.
And so the story ends... not really, of course. Once you find love, the story is just beginning..................
* * *