Wow, you're giving me some great reviews, they're really making me think about my writing style.
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She loved that moment. That single moment when she awoke, not knowing about the world around her, how full of pain it is. Life a blank canvas, the bliss of and hop of just being alive. Being warm, being safe.
Her mind was silent; not tainted by the past, not worried about the future; all she could feel were the positive array of emotions.
But the problem was it was only a moment. A single moment, which is only tangible for a few seconds. Then it fades away as the realisation of life filters in. Like watching the sunset of some distant isle; it only takes a few seconds. You know another sunset will happen, but its beauty may never compare to what you are experiencing.
And it's the actually act of experiencing the emotions associated with that moment which draw the realisation in, because you can't be satisfied that you are happy, your mind unconsciously seeks the problems you faced before your slept.
Maybe humanities doomed itself she thought, curling into a ball. We can't even be satisfied with the happy moments it gives us.
But she was determined she would break the mould.
She remained in bed, her mind trying to grasp at the shreds of that moment, trying to claw back the ignorance. But it was already too late.
She looked at her clock, and cursed silently that she work stated soon. She had been so positive last night about today, but now it was here, it was like being part of the horizon, nothing to look forward to, nothing to help guide you.
Somewhere in the back of her mind was the belief that if she left the bed everything would change, not necessarily for the worse, but change.
She had always tried to keep some type of order in her life – because even if things are bad, if they're the same, you create coping techniques.
Changes incur new challenges and problems, possibly one you aren't ready for.
She sighed as she tried to separate herself from the bedclothes. It was going to be a long day, whether she got up now, up waited for an hour.
She was afraid, daunted by her task.
It is, after all, one thing to devise a plan to change your life, but a completely new challenge to implement it.
And she knew change had to start today. She could put it off, and end up where she was last night. She couldn't be there again.
She hated feeling like this. Being on this emotional roller coaster, being happy that she could change her life, then condemning the plight of humanity.
She padded through to the hall, she felt lost, aimless. She had already organised some of the issues she needed to tackle today, she'd examined her feelings. But the simple task of getting ready for work seemed so foreign.
Then she saw something, which felt, out of place.
Next to her phone, she saw a scrap of paper.
She carefully picked it up by its edge, years of being a CSI teaching her to always be careful about moving evidence, not to contaminate it. Looking for what seemed out of place.
She closed her eyes suddenly, trying to silence the thought that maybe her work was now her life. They weren't separate anymore; she'd always be a CSI even if she stopped actually working as one.
She opened her eyes and stared at the paper, a number was scrawled along with a name.
'If you need me, call me. Greg.'
She smiled at this simple thoughtful gesture. She rubbed her finders across the piece of paper, feeling the writing indents, feeling the coarseness of the paper used.
Then she folded her hand around it, crumpling it, holding it tightly.
"I'd love to call you Greg," she said in a near whisper, "but I /have/ to do this by myself."
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She loved that moment. That single moment when she awoke, not knowing about the world around her, how full of pain it is. Life a blank canvas, the bliss of and hop of just being alive. Being warm, being safe.
Her mind was silent; not tainted by the past, not worried about the future; all she could feel were the positive array of emotions.
But the problem was it was only a moment. A single moment, which is only tangible for a few seconds. Then it fades away as the realisation of life filters in. Like watching the sunset of some distant isle; it only takes a few seconds. You know another sunset will happen, but its beauty may never compare to what you are experiencing.
And it's the actually act of experiencing the emotions associated with that moment which draw the realisation in, because you can't be satisfied that you are happy, your mind unconsciously seeks the problems you faced before your slept.
Maybe humanities doomed itself she thought, curling into a ball. We can't even be satisfied with the happy moments it gives us.
But she was determined she would break the mould.
She remained in bed, her mind trying to grasp at the shreds of that moment, trying to claw back the ignorance. But it was already too late.
She looked at her clock, and cursed silently that she work stated soon. She had been so positive last night about today, but now it was here, it was like being part of the horizon, nothing to look forward to, nothing to help guide you.
Somewhere in the back of her mind was the belief that if she left the bed everything would change, not necessarily for the worse, but change.
She had always tried to keep some type of order in her life – because even if things are bad, if they're the same, you create coping techniques.
Changes incur new challenges and problems, possibly one you aren't ready for.
She sighed as she tried to separate herself from the bedclothes. It was going to be a long day, whether she got up now, up waited for an hour.
She was afraid, daunted by her task.
It is, after all, one thing to devise a plan to change your life, but a completely new challenge to implement it.
And she knew change had to start today. She could put it off, and end up where she was last night. She couldn't be there again.
She hated feeling like this. Being on this emotional roller coaster, being happy that she could change her life, then condemning the plight of humanity.
She padded through to the hall, she felt lost, aimless. She had already organised some of the issues she needed to tackle today, she'd examined her feelings. But the simple task of getting ready for work seemed so foreign.
Then she saw something, which felt, out of place.
Next to her phone, she saw a scrap of paper.
She carefully picked it up by its edge, years of being a CSI teaching her to always be careful about moving evidence, not to contaminate it. Looking for what seemed out of place.
She closed her eyes suddenly, trying to silence the thought that maybe her work was now her life. They weren't separate anymore; she'd always be a CSI even if she stopped actually working as one.
She opened her eyes and stared at the paper, a number was scrawled along with a name.
'If you need me, call me. Greg.'
She smiled at this simple thoughtful gesture. She rubbed her finders across the piece of paper, feeling the writing indents, feeling the coarseness of the paper used.
Then she folded her hand around it, crumpling it, holding it tightly.
"I'd love to call you Greg," she said in a near whisper, "but I /have/ to do this by myself."