Sunday, July 30, 2006
I'd almost forgotten really.
Really really. What with my current obsession with Shizuru, Shizuma, Chikaru and Miyuki. Almost forgotten that while I really have a bad case of hero-worship with these anime girls, the one that I still truly identified with was one Arisugawa Juri.
Softer than cruel. Heh. I love that fic. I love that phrase.
Because we're both wild animals, said Kozue. That's true.
A knight in shining armor. A brilliant facade, masking illusion.
I have a hero complex really. Or not. How else would one explain the urge to save and protect others, without care for oneself?
Probably just selfish. What if others wanted to protect you? What would you do then?
I'd push them away, because no one can save an angel fallen from grace.
No one indeed. That and the fact that there are no miracles.
No, there are miracles. They just don't happen to me. I want them to happen to others. So they are safe, protected. Away from the taint of fallen grace.
I turned destructive inside. At least Juri had the wisdom of keeping up the charade, the game of cloak and dagger. She was perfection itself, a wondrous statue of glory to be admired from afar. Untouchable.
Then what am I but the taint like Kozue was? Not quite to the same level admittedly, largely because I don't sleep around like that girl does. But they're very much the same, wolf and panther both. The Prince and the delinquent. So very much the same.
I am not Juri. I won't even pretend to be. But the hurt she carries within herself mirrors that of mine. Konks, you were right, that addiction of mine is going to get me hurt severely in time to come. Too bad I can't let it go. The way Juri couldn't let go of that locket. It's almost ironic really.
Sometimes I think I do it to myself. Because I like the pain. Because, like Kozue, I smear the mud on myself to mark the depth of my sins. I refuse to purify myself because I feel like I don't deserve to look pure again.
The chains that held us together...
Only because I refuse to let go. And ironic that it is more than one chain that holds me. One that I cling on to, and another that wraps itself like a conniving serpent, suffocating me. And I can't slip out of that deadly embrace, because duty, that sickening concept, chains me more securely than any other trap.
Duty. It makes me laugh. I'm completely irresponsible in all other aspects of my life. In school, I am naught but a glowing ember, something that could have been more, but isn't, due to that sheer irresponsibility. I run from responsibility, avoid it, tried to slip away from it. Ignored it even. I am sure some of the more sententious members of my acquaintance in school must despise me. Or be absolutely baffled. Don't worry, it's not new. Bafflement is an endless state that humanity is engaged in. It's one of the things that spur progress, unfortunately or not.
Yet in the one area where I actually want to be irresponsible about, I can't. What, you think I like being irresponsible in school and in other ways? Then you knew me even less than you thought you did. No I won't explain that. Have fun guessing, or have you given up already? So much easier to mark me with disgust and contempt, is it not? Easier to label under 'unsalvageable' and leave it to rot, then to struggle to peel away the layers to grope for some measure of understanding. Lord knows I've felt the same way many times.
I am a very simple person to understand really. Complex, but simple at the same time. It only takes a few words to describe the entirety, yet those few words are probably too much for the average undiscerning person to decipher. How ironic. Heh.
The poison that runs in my veins. I wrote a poem on that once. I said then that it was hatred that ran through my veins, that desecrating taint that corrupted all that it touched. It is no longer hatred now, but something else.
Contempt? Perhaps. Or self-pity, that most destructive of emotions? Or hoping in absence of hope? Desperation reeks like an overused rag. It is beautiful, is it not? Despair was ever a technicolor display, a rising orchestra in full swing, in between shades of grey on an empty canvas.
Zakath fought with a cold rage burning within him. He sought to find something strong enough to kill him. So he fought.
I seek to be remembered. Not as a brightly shining star in the cosmos, admired by all. No, not that. Even the brightest stars go out one day, and then they'll be forgotten. No, I sought to explode like a supernova, to go out with a bang, drawing all those near to me to be sucked into the resulting void, and those afar to remember the catastrophic consequences.
And people wonder why I push them away.
Though, really, Zakath wasn't a good example. He was healed by love. Lucky (or unlucky) bastard. I don't think I even want to be healed. Why would I want to be?
Because I am weak, not strong. Why can't they all see that? I am weak. I am not strong. I can be broken. But why? Why does no one even try to crush me? Or do they see that there is nothing worth left to crush? Perhaps.
Perhaps some see something to be saved. Perhaps. Perhaps they think there is something to salvage from the train wreck. Perhaps there is something to be saved. But do they ever wonder...?
Do I even want to be saved?
Is there any reason I should be saved?
Can you give me a reason to want to be saved?
Until you can answer that, don't bother trying. Because patching a broken doll together haphazardly will result in its collapse later on. If you're going to do a proper repair job, do it properly. Don't leave things halfway. I rather stay broken than be roughly thrown together in a semblance of vibrant normality before falling into pieces...again.
I don't think I could take that a 3rd time. Or was it 4th?
Too many to count...but does it matter anymore? Nothing matters for now.
Cheers.
]
Really really. What with my current obsession with Shizuru, Shizuma, Chikaru and Miyuki. Almost forgotten that while I really have a bad case of hero-worship with these anime girls, the one that I still truly identified with was one Arisugawa Juri.
Softer than cruel. Heh. I love that fic. I love that phrase.
Because we're both wild animals, said Kozue. That's true.
A knight in shining armor. A brilliant facade, masking illusion.
I have a hero complex really. Or not. How else would one explain the urge to save and protect others, without care for oneself?
Probably just selfish. What if others wanted to protect you? What would you do then?
I'd push them away, because no one can save an angel fallen from grace.
No one indeed. That and the fact that there are no miracles.
No, there are miracles. They just don't happen to me. I want them to happen to others. So they are safe, protected. Away from the taint of fallen grace.
I turned destructive inside. At least Juri had the wisdom of keeping up the charade, the game of cloak and dagger. She was perfection itself, a wondrous statue of glory to be admired from afar. Untouchable.
Then what am I but the taint like Kozue was? Not quite to the same level admittedly, largely because I don't sleep around like that girl does. But they're very much the same, wolf and panther both. The Prince and the delinquent. So very much the same.
I am not Juri. I won't even pretend to be. But the hurt she carries within herself mirrors that of mine. Konks, you were right, that addiction of mine is going to get me hurt severely in time to come. Too bad I can't let it go. The way Juri couldn't let go of that locket. It's almost ironic really.
Sometimes I think I do it to myself. Because I like the pain. Because, like Kozue, I smear the mud on myself to mark the depth of my sins. I refuse to purify myself because I feel like I don't deserve to look pure again.
The chains that held us together...
Only because I refuse to let go. And ironic that it is more than one chain that holds me. One that I cling on to, and another that wraps itself like a conniving serpent, suffocating me. And I can't slip out of that deadly embrace, because duty, that sickening concept, chains me more securely than any other trap.
Duty. It makes me laugh. I'm completely irresponsible in all other aspects of my life. In school, I am naught but a glowing ember, something that could have been more, but isn't, due to that sheer irresponsibility. I run from responsibility, avoid it, tried to slip away from it. Ignored it even. I am sure some of the more sententious members of my acquaintance in school must despise me. Or be absolutely baffled. Don't worry, it's not new. Bafflement is an endless state that humanity is engaged in. It's one of the things that spur progress, unfortunately or not.
Yet in the one area where I actually want to be irresponsible about, I can't. What, you think I like being irresponsible in school and in other ways? Then you knew me even less than you thought you did. No I won't explain that. Have fun guessing, or have you given up already? So much easier to mark me with disgust and contempt, is it not? Easier to label under 'unsalvageable' and leave it to rot, then to struggle to peel away the layers to grope for some measure of understanding. Lord knows I've felt the same way many times.
I am a very simple person to understand really. Complex, but simple at the same time. It only takes a few words to describe the entirety, yet those few words are probably too much for the average undiscerning person to decipher. How ironic. Heh.
The poison that runs in my veins. I wrote a poem on that once. I said then that it was hatred that ran through my veins, that desecrating taint that corrupted all that it touched. It is no longer hatred now, but something else.
Contempt? Perhaps. Or self-pity, that most destructive of emotions? Or hoping in absence of hope? Desperation reeks like an overused rag. It is beautiful, is it not? Despair was ever a technicolor display, a rising orchestra in full swing, in between shades of grey on an empty canvas.
Zakath fought with a cold rage burning within him. He sought to find something strong enough to kill him. So he fought.
I seek to be remembered. Not as a brightly shining star in the cosmos, admired by all. No, not that. Even the brightest stars go out one day, and then they'll be forgotten. No, I sought to explode like a supernova, to go out with a bang, drawing all those near to me to be sucked into the resulting void, and those afar to remember the catastrophic consequences.
And people wonder why I push them away.
Though, really, Zakath wasn't a good example. He was healed by love. Lucky (or unlucky) bastard. I don't think I even want to be healed. Why would I want to be?
Because I am weak, not strong. Why can't they all see that? I am weak. I am not strong. I can be broken. But why? Why does no one even try to crush me? Or do they see that there is nothing worth left to crush? Perhaps.
Perhaps some see something to be saved. Perhaps. Perhaps they think there is something to salvage from the train wreck. Perhaps there is something to be saved. But do they ever wonder...?
Do I even want to be saved?
Is there any reason I should be saved?
Can you give me a reason to want to be saved?
Until you can answer that, don't bother trying. Because patching a broken doll together haphazardly will result in its collapse later on. If you're going to do a proper repair job, do it properly. Don't leave things halfway. I rather stay broken than be roughly thrown together in a semblance of vibrant normality before falling into pieces...again.
I don't think I could take that a 3rd time. Or was it 4th?
Too many to count...but does it matter anymore? Nothing matters for now.
Cheers.
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