IX. Earth:Purgatory
"Choking on the ashes of her enemy"
-Nirvana
Do you think it's possible to be folded into your own self until all your emotions are muddled and worn? I'm sure it is... that's a stupid question. There's only a handful of things I understand now, and I think they might break if I so much as twitch my palm. That's what happens when we're wrapped too tight - we'll eventually get stuck on this fine silver line, tracing our pain in blatant indifference.
And I was stuck in purgatory. I had no desire to - or couldn't if that desire were there - leave it. It's a fun little game to play, thinking I won't have to ever ever part from my frayed gauntlet. Thinking I won't ever feel jade eyes contemplating my existence from across the tensed room. Thinking I won't ever have to see my love gaze into those eyes again... trying to convince myself she's nothing...
But nothing's always something.
Then again? There's no such thing as "something" where I live. I exist in a faint bubble that I can't escape. My wings are clipped and tired out, useless and torn from their original vibrance. But I like them that way. At least I know how far I can fly, how dull the shine in my eye has grown, how flat my forced smiles appear.
I could lie to myself and claim that he hasn't noticed. I know he has. He's worried...
Maybe he did love me. I know, at minimum, he cares. But what does it matter? He couldn't have us both. As if it were written in stone somewhere, when one was left, half of him stayed. Again in the soft green stream he'll have us both, the pieces will meet once more. The pieces will be there, but they won't be able to fit. We are all a disfigured puzzle. It fits, but in order for it to function as a whole... that's out of the question. Our happiness is just out of reach, for if he were to love one of us with all his being, the other would forever have to be there at his side, and he would fall back to them just as quickly as the opposite.
So I stay where I am. I am an isolated porcelain figure, standing idly by whilst my skin grows yellow and hair falls slack from watching them go about their lovely daily business. I used to love everything. I could see the light in everything. I could see the good in everyone. However, age has taken all that from me - age one would measure by battles, not years. Tears, not hours. Earth without water that is somehow still intact to my knight in shining armor that's been made of stolen spirit energy. They gather round to watch me gag on her precious Earth that I have come to know as mine. Ironically enough, to them it's always hers. I am tolerant still as I stand behind my murky barrier, clutching my rusting shears to my breast. This is where I stand.
And I am safe in my purgatory.
As I am stuck in my purgatory.
While I believe in that purgatory...
I want to break away from its unseemly web.
But I want to stay a little longer... let me rest a while more, and cut myself on tangled threads... and when I awake, where am I?
"Choking on the ashes of her enemy"
-Nirvana
Do you think it's possible to be folded into your own self until all your emotions are muddled and worn? I'm sure it is... that's a stupid question. There's only a handful of things I understand now, and I think they might break if I so much as twitch my palm. That's what happens when we're wrapped too tight - we'll eventually get stuck on this fine silver line, tracing our pain in blatant indifference.
And I was stuck in purgatory. I had no desire to - or couldn't if that desire were there - leave it. It's a fun little game to play, thinking I won't have to ever ever part from my frayed gauntlet. Thinking I won't ever feel jade eyes contemplating my existence from across the tensed room. Thinking I won't ever have to see my love gaze into those eyes again... trying to convince myself she's nothing...
But nothing's always something.
Then again? There's no such thing as "something" where I live. I exist in a faint bubble that I can't escape. My wings are clipped and tired out, useless and torn from their original vibrance. But I like them that way. At least I know how far I can fly, how dull the shine in my eye has grown, how flat my forced smiles appear.
I could lie to myself and claim that he hasn't noticed. I know he has. He's worried...
Maybe he did love me. I know, at minimum, he cares. But what does it matter? He couldn't have us both. As if it were written in stone somewhere, when one was left, half of him stayed. Again in the soft green stream he'll have us both, the pieces will meet once more. The pieces will be there, but they won't be able to fit. We are all a disfigured puzzle. It fits, but in order for it to function as a whole... that's out of the question. Our happiness is just out of reach, for if he were to love one of us with all his being, the other would forever have to be there at his side, and he would fall back to them just as quickly as the opposite.
So I stay where I am. I am an isolated porcelain figure, standing idly by whilst my skin grows yellow and hair falls slack from watching them go about their lovely daily business. I used to love everything. I could see the light in everything. I could see the good in everyone. However, age has taken all that from me - age one would measure by battles, not years. Tears, not hours. Earth without water that is somehow still intact to my knight in shining armor that's been made of stolen spirit energy. They gather round to watch me gag on her precious Earth that I have come to know as mine. Ironically enough, to them it's always hers. I am tolerant still as I stand behind my murky barrier, clutching my rusting shears to my breast. This is where I stand.
And I am safe in my purgatory.
As I am stuck in my purgatory.
While I believe in that purgatory...
I want to break away from its unseemly web.
But I want to stay a little longer... let me rest a while more, and cut myself on tangled threads... and when I awake, where am I?