no poetry between us

so....

Tue, 27 Mar 2007 12:57:49 GMT

i am not dead. just trying to graduate. that is all for now, more to come!

of memory and consequence

Wed, 05 Apr 2006 23:56:36 GMT

I remembered this journal today, and looked through all the entries. I still don't understand what I wanted when I started writing here, at least not fully. When I began this journal I was... whole, okay, healthy. I had my best friend. I recognized something bad had happened to me, but I was strong and didn't let it break me apart. I had hope that things would be better, and I had faith that things weren't all that bad.

I didn't hurt every day.

And I couldn't find anything to say of importance.

Everything here is... empty. I used to be able to say things that had a heart, that had a soul, that felt alive. And now all I seem to be concerned with is superficial events and material goods. I can't write about how I feel. I can write about who I am, or who I've become. I just wish I had more to say, that I could find a way to express how I feel happy but trapped, how things have gotten better and worse all at once, how I've lost a part of my perception. I wish that I didn't concern myself so much with school and jobs and where I'll be in a year. I wish that I didn't worry about things like my physics exam tomorrow, or paying off my cell phone bill.

There's a certain romance, I think, to the way I used to feel... before I ever started this journal. Even though I know I was hurting a lot more on the outside than I am now. I want to be able to say that I'm not worried about path integrals and twenty-page term papers. I want to be able to say that the only kind of electricity and magnetism I'm concerned with is the invisible, un-quantifiable kind between two people. I want to scream, cry, run away. Instead, I'll finish writing this, unsatisfied, and study, eat something, wake up tomorrow, take a test, log onto Llane.

I'm wasting away bit by bit... and I'm starting to feel very complacent in it all.

hehehe

Fri, 27 Jan 2006 20:05:20 GMT

I'm back in California! Eating and sleeping and being lazy, whee! Hooray!

Also, I am getting a hair cut soon (possibly at home, or right when I get back to Boston). I am thinking Natalie Portman-esque, in her shoulder-length days?

delicious...

Fri, 20 Jan 2006 06:06:09 GMT

...the new macbookpro. i am still waiting for apple to make a truly light and thin notebook, however.

ew.

Fri, 06 Jan 2006 09:30:50 GMT

california is a buggy place. i just killed THREE insects tonight in my room and saw one more. one reached my leg. please let that be the last of them?

sandman

Thu, 05 Jan 2006 23:00:31 GMT

last night i dreamt something incredibly emotionally vivid, but i cannot for the life of me remember what exactly happened. i just remember i was very anxious the whole time until he arrived and then a wave of relief came over me.

i'm writing a research paper on the cultural impact of opium, and have read a lot of first hand accounts written by opium addicts. i think maybe opium is what it feels like to be dreaming when awake, to lose one's entire sense of reality and consciousness.

lists, lists, lists

Thu, 05 Jan 2006 11:27:34 GMT

i love lists.

things i am going to do in 2006 winter (because i can't think further than one season):

1. rock the miniskirt and black tights look
2. read for pleasure (preferably old mystery novels, yum)
3. fix my hair
4. take my camera with me. everywhere.
5. guitar

6. finish my papers early, study more than i think i need for finals

oh dear. best get a move on.

checkups, of a sort

Sat, 22 Oct 2005 05:17:13 GMT

It's been quite awhile. Again. The thing about this whole journal thing is that it feels at once horribly invasive and horribly narcissistic. I do like writing in it better than doing work, however, so here I am.

Currently, my obsession is the new Harry Potter movie. Besides being my favorite book of the series so far, Goblet of Fire will be amazing simply because it is coming out in the winter. Harry has, and always will be, a holiday thing. The new trailer (attached to Corpse Bride, among others) is quite promising. I'm waiting for showtimes to be announced in the Boston area so I can buy tickets for the first show in the Commons. C'est bon!

As of late, I've also taken to not checking my mail client for days at a time. This is because of my inherently non-confrontational nature. Why face the bombardment of responsibilities today when you can do it tomorrow? I have the sinking feeling that I'm overextending myself, yet I can't bring myself to pull out of any of my extracurriculars because I don't feel my academic work is or will be of a high enough caliber that I will find satisfaction this semester solely based on that.

Meh.

In other news, I need to schedule a physical for, like, this week. Because I just found out my prescription is up and I'm on the last week of it. Not looking forward to this, but the promise of one less thing to worry about for the next 12 months will be most definitely worth it.

not still night, not yet morning

Fri, 22 Jul 2005 07:41:55 GMT

i have changed so much and so little. i have won and i have lost. i have learned and i have forgotten.

i still begin most of my sentences with i.

procrastination...

Mon, 18 Jul 2005 05:03:06 GMT

...is the stuff of giants. This past week I've been watching absurd amounts of cable television, among other things. So many movies! Also, obsessed with Le Tour de France. Go Lance!

Friday was spent shopping for Alex's birthday present; bought a wonderful DKNY crisp white with green pinstripe dress shirt. Tagged at $125, got it for a less. Also bought a new Nine West tote bag (black with silver accessories), cashmere turtleneck (chartreuse green), brown wool slacks with lavender silk lining and skinny lavender belt (Kenneth Cole, so pretty but SO out of season), reflective rimless sunglasses with tortoise side pieces (Liz Claiborne), blue silk top with chocolate lace at the neck and hem, lavender Calvin Klein bra, green floral mesh CK low rise boy briefs, and some adorable pink with pastel hemmed CK Choice boy briefs. Oh shopping spree!

I realize that makes me sound terribly high maintenance and superficial, but hey, it was all at a good price and I embarked with the goal of treating myself. Also, I restrained from buying some gorgeous (but not too practical) liquid clothes. So there.

I've been thinking a lot about the college social scene as well. I love partying, dancing, drinking... so how come I'm not doing it at school? Have I outgrown the concept of revelry and hedonism? Or am I just tired with the people? I don't want to drink 40s anymore, I want to drink beautiful cocktails in beautiful high-end bars wearing fancy clothes (and not being worried about random people spilling beer on me). Then again, maybe I'm just being ridiculous and all my fervor for partying will return next year? Or maybe not.

Anyway, more later when I'm less tired and have less work to do tonight...

fun fun!

Mon, 18 Jul 2005 04:46:38 GMT

The Keys to Your Heart

You are attracted to those who have a split personality - cold as ice on the outside but hot as fire in the heart.

In love, you feel the most alive when things are straight-forward, and you're told that you're loved.

You'd like your lover to think you are stylish and alluring.

You would be forced to break up with someone who was emotional, moody, and difficult to please.

Your ideal relationship is open. Both of you can talk about everything... no secrets.

Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment.

You think of marriage something you've always wanted... though you haven't really thought about it.

In this moment, you think of love as something you don't need. You just feel like flirting around and playing right now.

What Are The Keys To Your Heart?

Hmm... So true up until the last bit (although I'll be the first to admit that sometimes playing around is fun.

just another day at work

Wed, 29 Jun 2005 18:19:14 GMT

i'm so tired today... i really need to start getting more sleep. it's so frustrating for me to keep going to sleep at 2AM and then not be able to wake up at 6:45 or 7. especially because i love the morning! the fresh, cool air and the quiet streets as i walk to work. maybe i'll nap when i get home from work, and then go for a run.

the run being necessary because i have a GIANT piece of chocolate cake for lunch dessert. the funny thing is that i love having dessert with lunch, but don't really like it for dinner. similarly, i love traditionally "lunch" foods (i.e. sandwiches, soups, salads) more than dinner foods. odd, no?

playing catch-up

Tue, 28 Jun 2005 23:29:37 GMT

my, my, my it's been forever. so busy! in lieu of actually trying to put them into a decently flowing paragraph format, the events of the last couple of weeks are going to be presented in list format. (ha. ha. so lazy and tired.)

1. jade empire. given the amount of time i spend in alex's room, it isn't surprising that the xbox and playstation have won me in. but did it have to happen during finals? i'm amazed i pulled off the marks i did considering the amount of time i played (erm, and the considerably larger amount of time i wanted to play and was forcibly torn away from) this game. so much fun! oh, and for anybody who's played or is playing the game, the menage a trois side story (if you're playing a male character) is hilarious and mind-boggling all at once.

nota bien: in our new apartment (see below) we have two xboxes and a huge tv.

2. the apartment is beautiful, although definitely decorated in the style of four male law students (tons of shot glasses, absinthe posters, etc.) aforementioned law students also own the tucker max book. the kitchen and the second bathroom (mine; being the only girl i refuse to share with guys) are also almost brand new: marble counters, fresh tiles, new oven and dishwasher. it's a shame that alex and i are both gone at work during most of the day. (well, maybe not when one thinks about how hot it's been lately during the day. ouch!)

3. work is amazing. without going into the boring technical details, the people are very nice and laid-back, and i adore the building. it's brand new (was just dedicated a week ago) and i have tons of space (desk and lab bench), plus floor-to-ceiling (and it's an extremely high ceiling) windows. plus a j.p. licks opened nearby! mmm... ice cream.

4. which, conveniently, brings me to my next topic. must tone my body this summer! i was sick a lot earlier this year during the winter/spring, and i lost weight. afterwards, i feel that i've overcompensated by using the excuse of "i'm just putting back weight i lost while unhealthy..." too much. i'm a size 26 in jeans, but given my height (5'3") and previous weight (last year) i really should be a 25 (or at least a looser 26). now, don't get me wrong, i'm not complaining or whining. it's just that i really should be that size and weight and i've just spoilt myself too much.

5. also, so far this summer i've bought two ella moss tops online, one button down central park (blue and pale yellow stripes) shirt from jasmine sola, and one sweet pea top (meshy and very sweet) from jasmine sola. i'm considered getting an alice&olivia cashmere sweater from bluefly.com, too, but i realize that it's completely out of season. it's just that i adore and covet those sweaters... but having it and not being able to wear it will be terrible. other than that, i bought a pair of sevens: dark new york wash in the dojo style (wider leg with triple-stripe back pockets). i'm planning to take them to be altered a few inches this week. i'm also eyeing the classic bootcut sevens...

well, i'm sure there's more but really i'm braindead and too in love with summer to remember things like details. so i'll edit as it comes to me.

ta and kisses!

one down...

Sun, 22 May 2005 02:43:39 GMT

two to go. Not that I'm actually studying for them or anything. Jade Empire is much too fun for it to be just sitting around... if you have an xbox, I highly recommend it. Very fun.

I suppose I should start reading for my second biology final. Oh dear. It's a shame that I can't spend more time studying for my class on the mideival europe... the readings are so very interesting, but so very long. Sigh. One more week until I'm back in sunny Southern California, at least. Hooray!

um.

Sat, 21 May 2005 05:58:30 GMT

Why is it that I only ever update livejournal when I should be doing things like, say, studying for finals or packing for move-out? Perplexing.

New colors and icon in honor of my favorite Squaresoft girls. Prettification in lieu of any posts of actual substance for now. (So braindead! And so much neurobiology to learn! Woe!)

GAH

Wed, 13 Apr 2005 02:57:10 GMT

...so...much...work....

and herein begins my night of writing two papers, preparing a presentation, and watching a lecture video.

booyah.

Mon, 11 Apr 2005 17:22:20 GMT

Sweetness. New digital camera.

I also got a 512 mb memory card for only $30, too.

Granted, it's not a SLR or a Nikon D70 (mmm...), but it does have lovely picture quality and it's very portable. Meaning, lots of pictures to come in the next two weeks! Which is so welcome because I have taken hardly any pictures in the last year or so, and since my sister has the same camera it'll be a breeze to exchange photos and accessories, etc. I can't wait for it to get here.

Also... some prettyness. It's sad they closed the actualy store, though. Over the summer, I lived just one block down from it. The new stuff they have is much better. I absolutely love the Amy Brown skirts, too. Too bad they're terrible expensive... if I'm going to spend that kind of money it should really be on something I need/would use more than that.

Hah, seems like to make up for not really having anything special to say lately I'm posting links to places where I idle my time away. Idleness is great, isn't it?

wow...

Mon, 11 Apr 2005 00:00:55 GMT

It's certainly been awhile.

Keeping journals updated has always been hard for me. Maybe it's because I feel like so little I do is worthy of recounting, recording, reliving. It's not that I feel that I'm a dull person, or that I in any way lead a dull life, it's just that I'm a student, and by necessity this means that a lot of what I do is... studying. And given that I live at my college, much of my life is repetition. A nice, comforting sort of repetition, but one that makes writing a daily account somewhat difficult.

I have, as of late, discovered a new, expensive vice. Riccardi. Newbery Street... oh dear! Ted, having transferred from Cornell this spring, is a terrible, horrible, absolutely-no-good influence on me. Our excessive spending habits tend to negatively reinforce one another. ("It's so pretty!" "Oh look, Etru shirts!" etc.) Perhaps I'll treat myself to one item after this week, which consists of one midterm, one report, one paper, and one presentation, are over. And then no more until after finals! I promise!

Speaking of which, ironic that I decide to write an entry the day before a huge cell biology midterm! Eeks. Biology always sounds like such a fluff subject to me, but I promise it isn't... at least not at my current school. It can, in fact, be a little much at times. (Cytokine receptors? SMADs? SNARES? erm, what???)

And on another sciency note, yay for my lab position this summer! I'm working with Dr. Rosen at the HDSM Research labs, doing developmental stuff with BMPs. Doesn't that sound exciting and so scientific to you, too? (note: I"m just as confused.)

And finally... something that I covet, but is far and away out of my grasp.

So farewell until another half-year has gone by!

something to pass the time...

Tue, 22 Jun 2004 20:50:54 GMT

be sorted @ nimbo.net

edit: although I did take the test again and got Slytherin... spooky

zzz....

Tue, 22 Jun 2004 20:42:04 GMT

So tired lately, but, paradoxically, it seems like this exhaustion is a direct result of having nothing to do as of late. The past two weeks have consisted of the most dull grad. school library job ever, wherein I pretty much read one book a day and complete ridiculous amounts of knitting. (Ooo, sidenote: am working on a very, very pretty coral colored summer top.) GAH! Wait, can I say that again? GAH!!!

Really, I think I just need something, anything to do with my time. I love being preoccupied. I love having things to do that make me feel productive... and believe me, sitting in a perfectly silent room all day trying to amuse oneself while at a desk does little for one's productivity level.

Also, in other news, I don't have my laptop for another week! My beautiful, sleek, silver Apple... gone, gone, gone. If you haven't heard already, I had a nasty nasty case of white spots on the monitor that required it be sent back to Apple to get well. So very tragic. I cry.

But at any rate, I can't wait for summer semester to start. Thank goodness for intensive languages. How much fun will that be? Also, I have yet to think about changing concentrations (read: majors) and the like. Future, what?

And finally, no computer = no writing fluffy fluff. Or, smutty smut. Which do you prefer? Hrm. It's a tough call, I say. Although before the tragic loss of The Laptop I was working on a Remus story. I must admit that I was wholeheartedly disappointed, by the way, with the choice of actor to play Remus in the movie. I guess I always imagined him as... skinnier, lankier, more (for lack of a better word, and really, I bed you to forgive my complete lack of eloquence here) wolfish. Oh, and of fairer coloring. Am I making these things up? Maybe... I've been known to do that.

At any rate, cross your fingers that these doldrums are over soon, hm?

decisions, decisions...

Fri, 18 Jun 2004 17:21:13 GMT

Boston is a hellhole in the summer. My limited bank account, however, (hi, do NOT become a humanities major) makes me want to cry. I need, I want, I covet air conditioning. Air conditioning rocks. So does Netflix, however. Which one rocks more? Stay tuned to find out....

circumstances

Fri, 18 Jun 2004 15:26:04 GMT

isn't it just my luck that i got sorted* into Eliot house? wonderful wonderful Eliot house that just happens to share the same name as the most psychologically damaging boy i knew. go figure.

* yes, my school has a house system and yes, we get sorted into them.

where have all the cowboys gone?

Thu, 17 Jun 2004 16:25:36 GMT

So, despite the fact that I am wholeheartedly infatuated with Squall Leonhart, and really could not imagine my life without his pretty, pretty cuddly kittiness ::ahem!::, I've found that as of late I've grown really fond of writing Irvine Kinneas. Very perplexing indeed.

also, i would totally do irvine before seifer. hi, cowboys much? lay-esque disagrees, but really... irvine's just so much prettier!!!!

a quiefery delight

Wed, 16 Jun 2004 18:19:45 GMT

So I don't know if you've seen this, Sarah, but this entry is directed specifically to you. It's also posted on my ff.net account along wth some of my other short pieces. A one-shot, umsmutty (I promise it's still good!) Quistis/Seifer. Blondes have more fun... Enjoy!

btw, i love it when i mess up my html tags. wheee!

Coffee
She steps gently on the ground, left foot before right, left foot before right. Her long legs careful as a crane, but all full of power. She's not wearing pink today, like he'd expect, but a smart black suit set. The skirt is shorter than usual, skimming her knees and slit up the side tantalizingly, perfect lines of perfect flesh breaking through. Her white shirt is buttoned primly, draped over set shoulders.

Who are you trying to fool? Slut. You're such a slut, Trepe.

Look at that skirt, look at that false prudence. He can trace her figure from her ankle to her hip in one fluid line, halfway begins to imagine his hands following the path. Calloused hands catching on silk stockings. How her warm flesh must feel. How his hands must feel.

He growls low in his throat, turns his head to one side and spits, pretending he has a bad taste in his mouth.

But all that's in his mouth is what he imagines she tastes like. Electric and warm, salty and sweet, domination and submission, contradictory contradictions. She would give tastes to tasteless emotions, like discovering a new set of colors.

He drowns it in the coffee, bends low over his cup and holds the bitterness against his tongue. Its warmth is comforting, solid against the cold, sluggish autumn day. Her thick heels click one, two, three, on the cobblestone street. She's not a stiletto kind of girl, she likes to think she has a stable foundation. Farther, far, closer and closer.

I bet you could do a roundhouse kick in a second and not have a hair fall out of place.

I bet I could block it in half the time.

He tenses his shoulders, scrunches his eyebrows as he hears her stop and rest one perfectly manicured hand on the chair opposite the small table. In his best attempt at appearing intimidating, he glares at her stonily.

The most she does is arch one thin eyebrow from behind dark sunglasses. "I didn't expect to find you here," she says in a smooth contralto.

He pauses, lifts the coffee cup deliberately and takes a sip through chapped lips, "I'm always here on the weekends. I didn't think you'd be quite so forgetful."

Except for a small inhalation of breath, and the tiniest of twitches of her head in one direction, she has no response. He continues in his act of feigned indifference, knowing that he can't stop and knowing that it will do little to phase her. She pulls out the chair, sits on it elegantly, not in a delicate manner, but with the same sort of feline grace inherent to all predators, and crosses her legs.

He notices how the sunlight catches in her hair.

He notices how a touch more of her thigh exposes itself.

"Are you going to sit there all afternoon staring at my legs?" she prompts with the slightest touch of humor, almost mistakable for coldness.

He leans back in his chair, slouching into it in the seated equivalent of a swagger. "Don't flatter yourself, Trepe."

The waitress comes by and pours her a cup of coffee. Quistis pretends to amuse herself with the sugar cubes, dipping the corner of one into her cup and swirling it through.

"Or rather," he says unprompted, "Instructor Trepe."

She half-chuckles, "A little late for that isn't it?"

That's right, then. The Headmaster's little prodigy didn't quite live up to expectations. Or maybe he had made sure she didn't. Either way, though, he wasn't quite sure now why it had happened the way it did. But at least it was nice to have company in being a failure, because loneliness had a way of getting old, even if he didn't want to admit it.

"It's hardly ever too late for anything," he says, softer this time, looking at her face for the first time.

She pulls off her sunglasses, rests them on the table and nervously smoothes a piece of her tight bun back.

"Tell that to the Headmaster." She does not whisper, but says it with such apathy he finds it even worse. Suddenly her black suit looks that much more somber.

He snaps open a cigarette case sharply, annoyed, and flicks a lighter from his pocket. "You saved the world. You're a fucking heroine now, you can have anything you want." And this is Seifer Almasy, volatility and passion and all the strengths and weaknesses of such.

"Anything?" She laughs, amused at the irony of it all, "Hardly. The world is saved, on average, a dozen times each day."

She fiddles with her glasses, folds them and rests them on the table. "It's just a matter of how overtly you do it."

He thinks on this, answers carefully, "And I think the world is ruined, on average, a dozen times a day."

Another laugh from her, this time clearer, as she waves away the hazy cigarette smoke the wind blows back in her direction. "Touché." She lifts her coffee cup, "Well then, cheers. To heroes and villains."

He smirks, touches the ceramic of his cup to hers, and takes a sip before another long drag of tobacco. She finds herself thinking that there is a spark of the person he once was in that smirk. What else makes you do that?

In the light, he realizes that she does not look quite so sharp, that she is almost exactly his age. He can taste the chocolate and richness of the cigarette, and he can taste something entirely different in the air, as well. It seemed odd, when he thought about it, that they were all still teenagers. The things he had encountered, corpses and seduction and epic love stories, seemed like they belonged to an age far away from his own. Then again, that was what Garden was about wasn't it? One fucking game of make believe. Die for your morality, for your country, for your passion, and you're nothing. But leap at the chance to die on command, for commission, under control.

"Do you remember," he asks suddenly, and she looks up at him, "when you first came to Garden?"

She laughs, "Funny how you can never seem to forget the things you want to." Funny how you forget all the things you wish you could remember.

"I remember," he says carefully, "One very blonde, very blue-eyed girl pissing off the rest of the class very suddenly. Had to go and fucking top all our scores on your first try." Had to fucking pick a whip as your weapon. A whip.

"As I recall," she spoke with a hint of playfulness in her voice, "You were the one pissing everyone else off, and I was the only one willing to speak up to you." And yes, there were images, fuzzy and hidden at the back of her head, of a bossy girl and a stubborn boy butting heads... each of them more than a little impressed with their own courage and the other's gall.

He laughs, "You just didn't know any better at the time."

"I guess that means I still don't."

A trace of a smile remains on his lips as silence wraps around them once more. In the perfect gray of this autumn day, he suddenly feels grounded. Was this, then, what he was missing out on? Was this what eighteen year old boys were supposed to be doing? Sometime during the course of the last year he realized he'd given up on being able to return. To Garden. To Balamb. To Squall Leonhart's icy tension and Rinoa Heartilly's wounded idealism. To an eighteen year old life.

But that did not make it impossible.

Maybe, in the last year he had also realized that impossibility was the only impossible thing left.

"Do you ever think about," her eyes are centered on her cup, tracing ripples as she stirs, "the orphanage?"

He takes in a breath sharply and deeply, half-snorting. "It's not the first thing on my mind."

"Yes, but," and here she looks up, so he notices exactly how clear her eyes are, "How much can you remember?"

Oh. Oh he wants to say, the things he can remember. Guardian forces were a pleasant excuse to use for not mentioning any of it anymore, the same sort of gift as amnesia. Have you ever wished that you could turn back time and erase all the worst parts of your life, he wants to ask her. Guardian forces were a blessing in that exact same way. Pretend that things never happened, and the rest of us will pretend with you. Nothing more than a way out. You may not remember things, but you'll never forget them.

"I remember," And here he chooses his words delicately, with the same sort of grace that she walks, "That you could play the violin."

She closes her eyes, hears that sad melody again, mixing with the sound of ocean waves breaking on sharp rocks. This is the way you hold it, in Matron's honeyed voice, placing the dusty instrument in her hands. Learning by firelight the strange new language of sounds that were not letters at all but seemed to say much more. And remembering all of this seems like experiencing all of it for the first time again, if not for the fact that he says it happened more than a decade ago and she believes him.

"The lighthouse," she whispers.

Seifer doesn't respond, it's not his way at all, but she can tell he remembers as well. The lighthouse that would flood with the most brilliant golden light after a storm, reflecting off her hair as they raced to the top. A room full of windows, like a cage meant to capture the sunlight. Pressing their faces against the glass, making patterns in the frost of their breath, and feeling so, so high. This is what rapture feels like. This is what rapture lost feels like.

He remembers, as well.

When he speaks again, it is music and sunlight and all manner of lost languages. "I was going to run away and be a hero." There is something guttural in his voice, "Guess that's what happens to dreams."

"You're eighteen," she whispers, "you still have time."

Something breaks.

"...and I don't blame you at all."

There is nothing left in her to resent. She's a hero, and she hardly realizes it. After all, what are you supposed to do with the other sixty years of your life when you've already saved the world once over from ultimate doom? It's all very relative, she thinks, and finally realizes that she might understand a little of what that phrase means.

"I don't even get to be the ultimate villain. He looks defeated, dejected, tired, and ready to be born again. "I was just used, pitiful. A lapdog. And I wonder, sometimes, if maybe I would have rather that it was all of my own will."

She laughs, moves her hand a little closer to his. "Supporting characters." In a very twisted play, she thinks. How much of free will is free?

Her hand closes over his as she says, "I'm tired. I'm tired, and I want to remember."

And when she says this, her voice is hardly above a whisper, matching the wind blowing through dry leaves, "I want to remember what I used to dream."

He turns his palm up, curls his fingers around hers. "Let's run away, then. We can run away and be heroes."

She tightens her hand in his.

to be continued

Wed, 16 Jun 2004 15:35:02 GMT

More more more....

If he stood in the right light, under the right stars, believing in the right God... he could have fallen in love with her. Yes, with some ambient music and a touch of mist in the air he would have launched himself from reality into a pleasantly quaint fairytale.

But he did not believe in God, and the sky was overcast that night.

She had never truly struck him as beautiful. Haunting, maybe, with her darkly unreadable eyes and the lingering smell of coffee that hung to her. Of course, he had decided long ago that should he be given the chance to run his fingers for eternity against the smoothness of her pale, vampiric skin and through the softness of her long hair he would consider it a drunken bliss. But that didn't mean he found her beautiful.

Still, something about her intrigued him. She was a puzzle, a rubiks cube that made him feel clumsy and inadequate yet kept his fingers prying and pushing.

"I want to be in love," she said that night.

He did not have an answer. He never did. How could you answer to someone who's mind worked like a dream after all? All clarity in the darkness, yet reduced to a vapor once the sun had risen. It was always like that with her; a rush of feeling, and then the whisper of something present but too vague to grasp once the moment was gone. She was like that, too, almost touchable and almost tastable... but otherwise invisible.

"You are loved." He would say, for lack of anything else.

She turned, her eyebrow raising almost unnoticeably, "That's not what I mean. I want to be in love. What does it matter what other people feel if you can't understand it yourself?"

She made sense, in a sort of brokenly logical way.

"Don't you love me?" He asked plainly, wishing he had not.

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Had she wanted to say something? Stopped herself? Did he faze her? Impossible.

"I don't..." she trailed off, then started again, "love you the way I want."

"I don't understand," he half-shouted, almost angry.

"Can't you see?" And now she was shouting too, "I want to love something passionately. To make it and feel it and breathe it... to adore something so it's the one thing in the world that's completely mine. To feel, really and truly."

And then he did see. How could he not? When she was so eloquent, so perfect, so... everything. Perhaps, he thought, the blind could be given sight after all. But what mattered was not that he saw but what he saw... that she was right. He loved her in an entirely different manner than she loved him. Perhaps she was his passion, but that didn't matter. Reciprocity. Her love was simply a cleverly disguised impression.

He should have hated her... but he could not. God did exist, but his fingers were bleeding already.

"I know what you think," her voice had returned to its normal calm. "I know that you love me... But the thing is..."

She trailed off so he could barely hear her.

"The love that most people need isn't the kind they're looking for."