No Words... Just Love
Romance/Angst -PG13
Summary: A girl ponders upon her hatred for words...for they are the one
thing holding her back from the ones she loves... or are they? AAMR. Review
please =)
iA/N: I tried to make this original and powerful... hope it doesn't suck too much =) Ooh, nd btw if the italics don't work can someone explain to me how to make them work? Thanks =)/i
--
Words. Simple sounds made by the vocal cords representing and symbolizing meanings. Something said; an utterance, remark, or comment. Or at least that's what the dictionary says...
Words. Meaningless words. They mean nothing when it comes to the true power of human emotions. Words hurt, words cause misunderstanding, pain, heartbreak. And, frankly, I cannot think of anything I hate more than words.
It's ironic pretty much. I claim to hate words but then I use them, every day for almost every reason. And now I wish I had the power of to never speak again. For it is the words I use and the way I use them, that makes me who I am. And I hate that.
For every biting sarcastic comment and every snide remark, my hatred for words goes deeper. Words have destroyed me and resulted me into the pitiful state I have become accustomed to and to the horrible person I am.
I hate many things. Bugs, carrots, ghosts...the list goes on and on. But there is nothing I hate more than the sounds being portrayed for communication.
But then again there is.
I hate my sisters. I hate the way they treat me. I hate the way they think of me. They think I'm worthless, nothing, a waste. I try not to let it bother me, but then the harsh impact of the words comes right back. It scares me to death that sometimes I believe them. Just because of their words.
Words. Who needs them? Certainly not me. If it weren't for words I'd be happy. I'd be sweet. I'd have everything. But most importantly of all I'd have what I always wanted...
Him.
I hate him. I hate everything about him. I hate his enthusiasm. I hate his determination. I hate his bravery. I hate his charisma and his compassion. I hate his friendship and his care. I hate that he is the person I have always dreamed of being. I hate that he knows how to control his words. But what I truly do hate...is the fact that I love him.
Wow, I just did a pretty cheesy imitation of the '10 Things I Hate About You' poem right then. But there it goes once more. The irony of life. The famous saying I have heard over and over again until the words are penetrated into my mind.
i"You hurt the one you love."
"Me love him? Never. No way. You must me crazy. Never in a million years."/i
Words again. Empty words. Lying words. Words that do not hold one bit of truth to me...because they are words of lies. Lies that I have gotten so used to telling time and time again. I hate lies. Gotta remember to add that to the list.
Denial. It had become an instant reflex for me over the years. Five years of the fifteen years of my so-called life. This was not a life...this was a hell.
Or was it heaven?
Grr.. stupid irony.
Most people would consider being in love at such a young age a blessing, a gift. People search their entire lives for love and I find it at the mere age of ten. Aren't I the lucky one? They don't know the half of it.
They don't know the pain of holding love in for years. Of keeping it locked in the confines of one's own mind, never letting it escape to the one you hold it for. Why don't I just tell him? One would ask. I have the answer...
Fear.
I hate fear too. It is what has trapped my feelings for so long. Fear of rejection. Fear of abandonment. Fear of betrayal. Fear of the words he might say if he ever knew.
Oh, if he only knew. If he only knew how much I was in love with him. If he only knew how much I cherished the bond we share. But he should know, shouldn't he? Shouldn't best friends know how they feel about one another?
He knows. He knows what he hears. He knows what he sees. He knows what are lies.
Because of the words I speak...he thinks he knows.
The words I speak. The words I hate so very much. The words I do not mean. The words I wish to say are never said. For every time he does well in a battle, instead of words of praise I give him words of criticism. For every time he does something nice for me, I give him words of annoyance instead of words of gratitude.
If only I had the courage to say those words.
And I can, I think. But then I can't. And that is when the fear returns. The fear of what he would think of me if I did give him words of encouragement or congratulations. The fear of what he would do if I did give him the words I wanted to say.
i"I love you..."/i
Three words. Three simple morsels of speech. The word 'I', which represents myself. The word 'love', which represents my feelings. The word 'you', which represents me speaking to him.
But these are words I can never say...
Or can I?
My courage comes randomly, at the strangest of times. At spur of the moment situations or life-threatening encounters. I have courage in the adrenaline of the events taking place. The courage goes, however, as quickly as it came.
He thinks I have courage. He thinks I have bravery that he has worked so hard to have. It's quite amusing. He thinks wrong.
My tough shell is something that I had already built up when I first met him. I was hard on the outside, soft in the middle. I appeared to be fearless and insensitive, but in reality I was nothing but an emotional, lost little girl.
And I still am. And I always will be for as long as I do not have him. I never will all because of my damn pride. Which, by the way, I hate too.
"Misty?"
My ponderings come to a screeching halt all of a sudden. I turn. Slowly and carefully I cock my head from its position gazing outside the open window to see who is behind me. But I already know who it is by the voice. That sweet voice. The voice of..
Him.
There he is just standing there without a care in the world. Without a clue of what I feel for him or what him simply being in my presence is doing to me. I stare at him for a moment, like I always do. And then I speak a word one that I cannot will myself to hate. The word that is him.
"Ash."
A lopsided grin forms on his face and I nearly melt. Damn him, damn him for doing this to me. For making me so weak, so useless, so vulnerable, and so in love with him.
He moves closer to sit down beside me. My heart thumps in my chest so it pulses loudly in my ears and I fear momentarily that he can hear it. Our eyes meet but no words are said. Because words mean nothing.
And then it comes. A sudden rush of courage. It takes me by surprise, we were not in an exciting or life-altering situation, but suddenly I feel braver than I ever have before. And I can tell without any words...that he has just felt the same rush of courage too.
It dawns on me out of nowhere. An epiphany on the solution of my problem comes to my realization.
He knows.
Had he just found out? Or has he always known like I had? The numerous questions running around in my brain are put on hiatus at the moment. For he has just placed a hand behind my neck and is leaning inwards..
He kisses me.
Our lips touch and rub up against each other ever so softly. My head is spinning. I don't feel anything. No emotions can be portrayed other than the swirling of thoughts going around and around in my head. He opens his mouth and our tongues begin to dance with one another. It is not my first kiss for I have shared several with others. But nothing even came close to the amount of ecstasy running through my body at the moment. Because this is not some random guy.
It's him.
In a need for air we break apart. I stare at him, trying so desperately to read his eyes for a sign once more. But I don't need one I soon realize. He feels the same. I know it. I know him. And no words can describe the utter happiness and love I am experiencing.
And then again my hypocritical personality comes out along with the irony of my previous thoughts. I speak and allow words to break the moment.
"Ash.."
I murmur his name quietly. It's barley above a whisper, my voice, but we both hear it fine. He places a finger over my lips, the ones that his own had just been touching moments ago.
"Shh.."
He silences me so I cannot speak and I gaze at him deeply once more, waiting for him to continue.
"No words.."
He whispers to me and brushes the back of his fingertips against my cheek. I tremble under his touch. The same sweet touch I have dreamt of for so long his now finally mine. I embrace it as I lean in, closing my eyes briefly.
I silently laugh despite the emotional moment. For he is now being the ironic one. He removes his fingertips before placing his entire palm on my cheek. I quiver within as he leaned forward, breathing his next words into my ear.
"...just love."
He moves his head back and once again we are face-to-face. The smallest smile forms on my face and I nod, understanding his words completely. He felt what I did. Words weren't important now... to me they had never had been.
But still I utter the only three words that had ever held any significance to me.
"I love you."
He doesn't say anything. Almost as soon as the words dance of my tongue his is in my mouth and we are locked in another passionate kiss. The moment I have always dreamed of has finally come... and ironically enough words helped make it happen.
Words.
I love them.
fin.
iA/N: I tried to make this original and powerful... hope it doesn't suck too much =) Ooh, nd btw if the italics don't work can someone explain to me how to make them work? Thanks =)/i
--
Words. Simple sounds made by the vocal cords representing and symbolizing meanings. Something said; an utterance, remark, or comment. Or at least that's what the dictionary says...
Words. Meaningless words. They mean nothing when it comes to the true power of human emotions. Words hurt, words cause misunderstanding, pain, heartbreak. And, frankly, I cannot think of anything I hate more than words.
It's ironic pretty much. I claim to hate words but then I use them, every day for almost every reason. And now I wish I had the power of to never speak again. For it is the words I use and the way I use them, that makes me who I am. And I hate that.
For every biting sarcastic comment and every snide remark, my hatred for words goes deeper. Words have destroyed me and resulted me into the pitiful state I have become accustomed to and to the horrible person I am.
I hate many things. Bugs, carrots, ghosts...the list goes on and on. But there is nothing I hate more than the sounds being portrayed for communication.
But then again there is.
I hate my sisters. I hate the way they treat me. I hate the way they think of me. They think I'm worthless, nothing, a waste. I try not to let it bother me, but then the harsh impact of the words comes right back. It scares me to death that sometimes I believe them. Just because of their words.
Words. Who needs them? Certainly not me. If it weren't for words I'd be happy. I'd be sweet. I'd have everything. But most importantly of all I'd have what I always wanted...
Him.
I hate him. I hate everything about him. I hate his enthusiasm. I hate his determination. I hate his bravery. I hate his charisma and his compassion. I hate his friendship and his care. I hate that he is the person I have always dreamed of being. I hate that he knows how to control his words. But what I truly do hate...is the fact that I love him.
Wow, I just did a pretty cheesy imitation of the '10 Things I Hate About You' poem right then. But there it goes once more. The irony of life. The famous saying I have heard over and over again until the words are penetrated into my mind.
i"You hurt the one you love."
"Me love him? Never. No way. You must me crazy. Never in a million years."/i
Words again. Empty words. Lying words. Words that do not hold one bit of truth to me...because they are words of lies. Lies that I have gotten so used to telling time and time again. I hate lies. Gotta remember to add that to the list.
Denial. It had become an instant reflex for me over the years. Five years of the fifteen years of my so-called life. This was not a life...this was a hell.
Or was it heaven?
Grr.. stupid irony.
Most people would consider being in love at such a young age a blessing, a gift. People search their entire lives for love and I find it at the mere age of ten. Aren't I the lucky one? They don't know the half of it.
They don't know the pain of holding love in for years. Of keeping it locked in the confines of one's own mind, never letting it escape to the one you hold it for. Why don't I just tell him? One would ask. I have the answer...
Fear.
I hate fear too. It is what has trapped my feelings for so long. Fear of rejection. Fear of abandonment. Fear of betrayal. Fear of the words he might say if he ever knew.
Oh, if he only knew. If he only knew how much I was in love with him. If he only knew how much I cherished the bond we share. But he should know, shouldn't he? Shouldn't best friends know how they feel about one another?
He knows. He knows what he hears. He knows what he sees. He knows what are lies.
Because of the words I speak...he thinks he knows.
The words I speak. The words I hate so very much. The words I do not mean. The words I wish to say are never said. For every time he does well in a battle, instead of words of praise I give him words of criticism. For every time he does something nice for me, I give him words of annoyance instead of words of gratitude.
If only I had the courage to say those words.
And I can, I think. But then I can't. And that is when the fear returns. The fear of what he would think of me if I did give him words of encouragement or congratulations. The fear of what he would do if I did give him the words I wanted to say.
i"I love you..."/i
Three words. Three simple morsels of speech. The word 'I', which represents myself. The word 'love', which represents my feelings. The word 'you', which represents me speaking to him.
But these are words I can never say...
Or can I?
My courage comes randomly, at the strangest of times. At spur of the moment situations or life-threatening encounters. I have courage in the adrenaline of the events taking place. The courage goes, however, as quickly as it came.
He thinks I have courage. He thinks I have bravery that he has worked so hard to have. It's quite amusing. He thinks wrong.
My tough shell is something that I had already built up when I first met him. I was hard on the outside, soft in the middle. I appeared to be fearless and insensitive, but in reality I was nothing but an emotional, lost little girl.
And I still am. And I always will be for as long as I do not have him. I never will all because of my damn pride. Which, by the way, I hate too.
"Misty?"
My ponderings come to a screeching halt all of a sudden. I turn. Slowly and carefully I cock my head from its position gazing outside the open window to see who is behind me. But I already know who it is by the voice. That sweet voice. The voice of..
Him.
There he is just standing there without a care in the world. Without a clue of what I feel for him or what him simply being in my presence is doing to me. I stare at him for a moment, like I always do. And then I speak a word one that I cannot will myself to hate. The word that is him.
"Ash."
A lopsided grin forms on his face and I nearly melt. Damn him, damn him for doing this to me. For making me so weak, so useless, so vulnerable, and so in love with him.
He moves closer to sit down beside me. My heart thumps in my chest so it pulses loudly in my ears and I fear momentarily that he can hear it. Our eyes meet but no words are said. Because words mean nothing.
And then it comes. A sudden rush of courage. It takes me by surprise, we were not in an exciting or life-altering situation, but suddenly I feel braver than I ever have before. And I can tell without any words...that he has just felt the same rush of courage too.
It dawns on me out of nowhere. An epiphany on the solution of my problem comes to my realization.
He knows.
Had he just found out? Or has he always known like I had? The numerous questions running around in my brain are put on hiatus at the moment. For he has just placed a hand behind my neck and is leaning inwards..
He kisses me.
Our lips touch and rub up against each other ever so softly. My head is spinning. I don't feel anything. No emotions can be portrayed other than the swirling of thoughts going around and around in my head. He opens his mouth and our tongues begin to dance with one another. It is not my first kiss for I have shared several with others. But nothing even came close to the amount of ecstasy running through my body at the moment. Because this is not some random guy.
It's him.
In a need for air we break apart. I stare at him, trying so desperately to read his eyes for a sign once more. But I don't need one I soon realize. He feels the same. I know it. I know him. And no words can describe the utter happiness and love I am experiencing.
And then again my hypocritical personality comes out along with the irony of my previous thoughts. I speak and allow words to break the moment.
"Ash.."
I murmur his name quietly. It's barley above a whisper, my voice, but we both hear it fine. He places a finger over my lips, the ones that his own had just been touching moments ago.
"Shh.."
He silences me so I cannot speak and I gaze at him deeply once more, waiting for him to continue.
"No words.."
He whispers to me and brushes the back of his fingertips against my cheek. I tremble under his touch. The same sweet touch I have dreamt of for so long his now finally mine. I embrace it as I lean in, closing my eyes briefly.
I silently laugh despite the emotional moment. For he is now being the ironic one. He removes his fingertips before placing his entire palm on my cheek. I quiver within as he leaned forward, breathing his next words into my ear.
"...just love."
He moves his head back and once again we are face-to-face. The smallest smile forms on my face and I nod, understanding his words completely. He felt what I did. Words weren't important now... to me they had never had been.
But still I utter the only three words that had ever held any significance to me.
"I love you."
He doesn't say anything. Almost as soon as the words dance of my tongue his is in my mouth and we are locked in another passionate kiss. The moment I have always dreamed of has finally come... and ironically enough words helped make it happen.
Words.
I love them.
fin.