Just some random introspection from my (still unwritten) story's protagonist in a rather emotional mood. I slapped it together really quickly then went back and edited it a bit, but it's still kinda stylistically messy. It helped me get into her head, though; I think I'll be doing more of these.
-------------------
It’s like he’s telling me that it’s okay to hide. How is it okay? How could it possibly be okay to run from reality? There’s nothing there in those books except idle fantasies and clever lies. There is no way to escape the fact that dad's gone. That he’s not coming back. That we are going to have to live without him and that’s that. I will never see him again. There. Done.
But I want to believe him. I can’t help it. I want to believe that it’s okay to put that cowardly veil in front of my face and immerse myself in untruths, in painted stories and written words. I want to bring them to life, have them serve as my shield against reality.
Maybe I can just use them as a sword. Does that make sense? I wouldn’t be cowardly and hide behind them, but I’d use them as a way to cut through.
No.
That’s still combating the truth with a lie, and isn’t that always evil in all the books? Besides, I’m not drowning in despair or anything. I’m perfectly fine; it’s been a whole year. I have friends, a loving mom, and an irritating brother. I’ll get through it; I’ll be fine. I am fine. I don’t need to hide from something nonexistent. That is, no longer existent. It did happen, and I can’t hide from it. But I’m over it.
Except in a few random moments. Not in the dead of night or anything clichéd like that, but in broad daylight, when I hear my brother scratching away at some report in the car, or see a glimpse of Danny’s obsessions, his villains and heroes...God, I wish it was true. I wish so badly that the world was made up of right and wrong once again, and that I could write myself a sword far too heavy for Casey Foster to lift and smash my enemies into oblivion. It was so easy, even if it wasn’t real.
But it wasn’t.
And I didn’t have a problem accepting that until he came along.
God, I hope he doesn’t read minds.
-------------------
Danny = friend's little brother. "He" = everybody's favorite pixie. I just realized that there's dramatic irony in the first line of the second to last paragraph. Wooo, go me! : D
The last name...is a work in progress. -_-
View User's Journal
If you are a dreamer, come in...
 |
