Disjointed
Written by Acacia Dyre
Warnings: short, maybe overly dramatic and unbeta'd. I did spelling and grammar check and that was it, got a sudden inspiration for the first line and !bam! short fic appears.
Disclaimer: Own no one and nothing, other than my barn cat and a bunch of used books of course. All hail DC and the powers that be that continue to create the Batpeoples.
There are times when I think my soul would like to burst forth from my body to gain that freedom denied to it for so long now; the freedom that my body denies to it every moment of every day. It wants to run, and jump and fly. To do the things I once took for granted in so many little ways. My soul wants to feel the grass under my toes again and the strain on my arms from swinging around a building from a thin line. There are so many things I could bring up, and I know each one has a distinct memory that has been lost inside this body.
Sometimes my soul doesn't remember that it is imprisoned. I wake in the day and am ready to jump out of bed and run, and my soul is ready to go. It tells me to just do it. But nothing happens and it remembers. For a few moments it gives me that slight hope that today I will do something, it will be different. Blind, stupid hope. A child's dream that a night of sleep will solve all problems and the morning will bring a new existence, a new possibility. I think that it disappoints my soul that I am not able to follow through on its dreams.
Yes, I think that my soul is disappointed in me for not being able to do all it wants. I find myself dwelling on the desires of my soul, and wishing that I could fulfill each one. Is it strange to think that I want these things not for myself, but for my soul, when my soul really is me? Perhaps it is even stranger then, that I have felt disowned, divorced, and cast away from my soul since the moment I learned I would never walk again. The relationship I have with my soul is as paralyzed as my lower body; like a monitor disconnected from its CPU. And that is something I have never been able to explain to Dick.
He loves me. I know that he does, and not just as what I was. He loves me as I am. He loves me in a way that I cannot accept right now. I love him, that is not the problem I find myself faced with. I push him away, or try to, because I am not whole as long as my soul and my self are not communicating. I have often heard that you must love yourself first, not necessarily the most, but first you must find some acceptance for yourself. I struggle with my soul daily as I keep it tied to me, unable to break away to run and to jump and to fly. I love Dick, but I must learn to love my soul once more. I hope, with all my self, that he can wait for me to relearn this lesson.
Written by Acacia Dyre
Warnings: short, maybe overly dramatic and unbeta'd. I did spelling and grammar check and that was it, got a sudden inspiration for the first line and !bam! short fic appears.
Disclaimer: Own no one and nothing, other than my barn cat and a bunch of used books of course. All hail DC and the powers that be that continue to create the Batpeoples.
There are times when I think my soul would like to burst forth from my body to gain that freedom denied to it for so long now; the freedom that my body denies to it every moment of every day. It wants to run, and jump and fly. To do the things I once took for granted in so many little ways. My soul wants to feel the grass under my toes again and the strain on my arms from swinging around a building from a thin line. There are so many things I could bring up, and I know each one has a distinct memory that has been lost inside this body.
Sometimes my soul doesn't remember that it is imprisoned. I wake in the day and am ready to jump out of bed and run, and my soul is ready to go. It tells me to just do it. But nothing happens and it remembers. For a few moments it gives me that slight hope that today I will do something, it will be different. Blind, stupid hope. A child's dream that a night of sleep will solve all problems and the morning will bring a new existence, a new possibility. I think that it disappoints my soul that I am not able to follow through on its dreams.
Yes, I think that my soul is disappointed in me for not being able to do all it wants. I find myself dwelling on the desires of my soul, and wishing that I could fulfill each one. Is it strange to think that I want these things not for myself, but for my soul, when my soul really is me? Perhaps it is even stranger then, that I have felt disowned, divorced, and cast away from my soul since the moment I learned I would never walk again. The relationship I have with my soul is as paralyzed as my lower body; like a monitor disconnected from its CPU. And that is something I have never been able to explain to Dick.
He loves me. I know that he does, and not just as what I was. He loves me as I am. He loves me in a way that I cannot accept right now. I love him, that is not the problem I find myself faced with. I push him away, or try to, because I am not whole as long as my soul and my self are not communicating. I have often heard that you must love yourself first, not necessarily the most, but first you must find some acceptance for yourself. I struggle with my soul daily as I keep it tied to me, unable to break away to run and to jump and to fly. I love Dick, but I must learn to love my soul once more. I hope, with all my self, that he can wait for me to relearn this lesson.