Striking Glass
She surveyed the rather peculiar modifications from a direction that was far different than the one she had been traversing mere weeks - no, days!- ago. From a definite 'look at this novelty!', she ... progressed (is that the right word?)... to a place more familiar; where she was nearly hesitant to begin anew. Nearly: not certainly. And when she thought about it, it really was a positive change, one which got her thinking and more importantly, hoping again.
But it wasn't really beginning something brand new per se, rather striking up something that was old - much like rifling through a junk box in the attic to find an old record tucked beneath the piles of misfitting clothing and musty books. You peer at the case, memories flooding back to thwack you in the face to the point where you can almost smell the reality of them... hear the moments when the songs froze themselves into clear and untainted concrete: thoughts that needed triggering by the simple sight and feeling of it. But with these memories comes a rather lurching feeling of comfort, familiarity and fondness: yes, that was exactly what this situation felt like.
Familiarity. Fondness. With a hint of something she wasn't quite sure of: the taste was delightful but she seemed to have complications regarding the association between mind and sense: i.e. she hadn't the foggiest what it was.
But it seemed too good to be true- nothing could lurch into this kind of intriguing relief without some sort of catch: there is always a catch. But this particular setback seemed intent on the prevention of pain... that would go to all manner of extent to try and keep as much intact as possible, and this included her.
This is odd. She thought to herself one night, far later than she had wanted to stay up, but the pressing necessities of finances and experience caught her eye (and that was a story for another day). She had never really felt this sort of security before; people have a tendency to look out for themselves but when they truly do things on the motivation of another, more bizarrely her, it seems of unnatural, yet not unpleasant, quality.
It was rather like a kiss- the warmth and love that is felt, the security and emotion of being wanted. This was something that very few seem to remember how to properly use, much less experience... yet here they seemed to be, caught up in the embrace, wondering afterward if it was a dream.
She bumped back down to earth out of her reverie with thoughts pouring out of her skin, leaking in a real, tangible and fluid-like motion to ensure that she was well coated in their sticky, over-thinking frustration.
Few more days and she is of the hopeful mind of kind, real perspective. The daydream needed to be solidified if not obliterated.
There seemed to be one of two options: she definitely had her preference and so did the second party it seemed. But she was strongly opinionated on one of these preferences: she was prepared to begin moving.
Though, with the ways of life, that was hardly the case. In fact she had a very long time to wait.
The ultimate test of
But it wasn't really beginning something brand new per se, rather striking up something that was old - much like rifling through a junk box in the attic to find an old record tucked beneath the piles of misfitting clothing and musty books. You peer at the case, memories flooding back to thwack you in the face to the point where you can almost smell the reality of them... hear the moments when the songs froze themselves into clear and untainted concrete: thoughts that needed triggering by the simple sight and feeling of it. But with these memories comes a rather lurching feeling of comfort, familiarity and fondness: yes, that was exactly what this situation felt like.
Familiarity. Fondness. With a hint of something she wasn't quite sure of: the taste was delightful but she seemed to have complications regarding the association between mind and sense: i.e. she hadn't the foggiest what it was.
But it seemed too good to be true- nothing could lurch into this kind of intriguing relief without some sort of catch: there is always a catch. But this particular setback seemed intent on the prevention of pain... that would go to all manner of extent to try and keep as much intact as possible, and this included her.
This is odd. She thought to herself one night, far later than she had wanted to stay up, but the pressing necessities of finances and experience caught her eye (and that was a story for another day). She had never really felt this sort of security before; people have a tendency to look out for themselves but when they truly do things on the motivation of another, more bizarrely her, it seems of unnatural, yet not unpleasant, quality.
It was rather like a kiss- the warmth and love that is felt, the security and emotion of being wanted. This was something that very few seem to remember how to properly use, much less experience... yet here they seemed to be, caught up in the embrace, wondering afterward if it was a dream.
She bumped back down to earth out of her reverie with thoughts pouring out of her skin, leaking in a real, tangible and fluid-like motion to ensure that she was well coated in their sticky, over-thinking frustration.
Few more days and she is of the hopeful mind of kind, real perspective. The daydream needed to be solidified if not obliterated.
There seemed to be one of two options: she definitely had her preference and so did the second party it seemed. But she was strongly opinionated on one of these preferences: she was prepared to begin moving.
Though, with the ways of life, that was hardly the case. In fact she had a very long time to wait.
The ultimate test of
- Self-control
- Perseverence
- Patience.
Comments
Post a Comment
Thank-you for the feedback!