Respect. It all comes down to that. That simple seven lettered word that encompasses a huge meaning that even most people on their mid-twenties can't totally understand. Sometimes people die (old and wrinkled, and quite full of useless knowledge that won't change the fact that one turns to dust and just ceases to exist) without ever comprehending the word.
Respect.
You really can't expect self-absorbed, toxic, moody teens who are corroded by their own forceful desires to show respect.
:::...:::
Respect. Respect. Respect.
After the word's been choked out one too many times, it starts losing whatever meaning there could've been to it. It starts degenerating and falling apart until there's only traces of a rotten carcass.
An empty word that is nothing more than a word. A dull presque vu that itches all over the body with the peculiar familiarity that is and isn't and makes people want to scream a bit out of sheer frustration.
Respect. Respect. Respect.
:::...:::
Respect me.
Basic. Essential to life.
(Basically essential to life.)
I want all of you to respect me. Respect my gifted nature, at least.
She won't say it. But everytime somebody shoves her aside –emotionally if not physically- she thinks it again and again, altering the structure and inserting new words and creating pictures and ingraining it to songs.
She's much too good, and she knows it; her future will be bright, and success will be a given. She can practically flex her fingers and taste the weight of the countless Tony awards that she will receive, smiling dotingly to her devoted audience.
She's a star. A massive luminescent plasmatic ball that isn't held together by things as foolish as gravity. She's held together by sheer talent. Bursting at the seams with it, too..
But even stars crave respect.
:::...:::
Respect and trust. These two are the fundamental pillars to build a strong relationship.
To build a romance, to build a family, to build a friendship.
People stays away from those who can't exhibit respect, or aren't worthy of their trust.
They also want qualities such as empathy. That mythical capacity to recognize and, at least to some extent, share feelings that are being experienced by another semi-sentient being.
Rachel looks at Tina and Kurt and Mercedes, she looks at Santana and Brittany (and at everyone else in countless and senseless combinations), and she thinks (silently, and trying to quell the blazing and trickling sadness that has been there since she can remember) i don't really have friends.
With friends there's supposed to be some sort of positive reciprocity; an equal combination (a medley, if you may) of giving and taking. But even though she likes to claim (chirping in an intonation that annoys even herself) that the Glee kids are friends, she just isn't sure that they're doing this the right way.
Friendships. And respect. And this... this vigorous ache that never desists.
(:::...:::
Quinn is just so pretty -like a perfect angel, sculpted out of some impossible ice that never melts-, but whenever she talks to Rachel she metamorphoses into this ugly creature that is all teeth and claws and the clear intention to hunt her down.
And there's always blood, and there are always tears -after, in secluded places where people can't see how unflattering it can be when her emotions are genuine-. And although Rachel tries to shut her up with whatever cajoling nonsense she can manage, the blonde can always deliver the worst blows.
Respect is a two-way road, manhands.
:::...:::)