Ch. 14 Mirror Temple Inner Reflection

Prompt: Pet (Peeves)

This was not what she was supposed to be doing. But then again, what else was she supposed to be doing with her life?

She was not to be lost in between dark and dead-alluring rooms looking for an exit. Not when she had so many places to see and so much to explore. So much options at hand and this was the one thing she chose to do?

Disgusting.

She hated it.

And she hated herself for allowing this to happen.

Things didn't have to go this way. Things didn't have to end this way.

And now the best thing she could do was to make catharsis out of scraps.

Hoping one day it will be enough.

If only she could use a fraction of the spite she had for herself into something more useful, maybe she wouldn't need to prove herself with such ridiculous feat as climbing a mountain, knowing damn well she wouldn't even bring it up to anyone after she was gone from here. Either alive or dead.

In the end there would be no difference for her and she knew it.

But in the meantime she could only daydream with the day where she could truly rest forever. She accommodated the backpack over her shoulders once more and continued her path.

…

This was uncomfortable. Confined to be in such small space for unbearable amounts of time before he got a chance for real freedom.

Was he always this whiny? Oh but he would stay like that, of course. Had he no better thing to do than lose himself in the lives of others because he didn't want to fix his own?

What there was to fix when he didn't even begin to deal with his life in the first place? He knew he had not and still he carried on with a restless itching to keep digging on soft ground with his hands, hoping to find something which justified his efforts to be worth it.

And for what purpose? He knew he was not going to be that one-hit wonder in the internet. At most he was going to be a passing amusement to people behind a screen. Will anyone ever going to look up to him like he looked up to his own idols?

Everything he did was not a masterpiece. All of his work was nothing but the best of the worst in a pile of always-burning trash he always sought to fuel with more and more. He hated the mere thought of not having and he'd have no idea what to do without it and such idea only incited him to go deeper, and deeper, and deeper.

His work was not unique or special. Anyone could replicate what he did and do it even better. This had no meaning. This was not meant to give a message. It was a shout to the void where no one heard him.

He sought to be a timeless masterpiece when all he would end up being was a loss in time.

Just like he was right now trapped in that crystal prison. He could only rest his head against its walls and close his heavy eyes.

…

This was a vile pile of thoughts. That's was what anyone would say if anyone looked inside her head into her mind.

Still, she'd cling herself close to them as if her life depended on it. It did to some extend and without them, she had nothing and she was nothing.

So much brainpower and the exclusive benefit to live in a mind. All to use it to create almost nothing and what little she created ended up in the dark away from peering eyes.

She felt like she was throwing a bouncing ball to a wall and every time she threw it, the ball always ended up hitting her head. Then the ball would roll far away from her, she would tiredly stand up, retrieve it and throw it away once again.

She would laugh if she was not tired by the amounts of contradictions she had over her being. Sleepy and insomniac. Grumpy and calm. Calculating and eager. Thinker and empty-headed. Always wanting to touch but always refraining herself to watch in the distance.

Oh, now she's having second thoughts at the idea of having something new? That was not what she wanted? To be oh so wonderfully marveled at the exploration. She was not scared of her mind. She was scared of others seeing inside. She didn't seek to be understood. On the contrary, she enjoyed the alienation her line of thought gave her as much as she hated it, as long it fueled her belief of being somehow special. As if solitude and darkness were her natural habit.

What kind of sense was that supposed to be? She herself couldn't even tell. Nothing new under the sun she rarely saw nowadays yet she yearned and loathed so much. So, she only did what she did best. Watch from afar and ruminate about it.

Because spite can get you much further in one night than fear in a month.