I have three papers to write and am cutting this to the wire
Title: In Love with an Ideal
Author: Catalina
Theme: Chibiusa/Helios
Genre: Angst
Version: Manga
Rating: G
I had that dream last night, the same one. It’s always the same one. I’m standing on the very edge of my world, with a backward glance I can see the harsh glint of crystal and hear the faint buzz and bustle the great city of my birth never loses. Just ahead I can make out sights and sounds far less concrete, lights and shadows tease themselves into shapes that pique and perplex my memory. I am mesmerized by colors I had once been intimately acquainted with, eyes widening like the child’s who had last seen them. I can make out the faintest of outlines, trees stretching in opposite directions towards the non existent earth and sky, flowers that dwell no where in my reality bloom in abundant clusters. I am uncertain how much I can physically see and how much my mind is filling in, the realm is so foreign and yet so familiar. An ache begins to form in my chest, I can remember so much but see so little. The soft beating of wings and clatter of hooves is caught by the wind, and the ache deepens. In vain I try to get closer, but the world of illusions denies me passage. Are you denying me as well? I can’t help but wonder, not that I blame you. I could never blame you. Maybe that’s a problem. It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other, and even then I gave you the highest distinction in my mind, putting you on a pedestal like children are wont to do. You never treated me like one though, your eyes possessed no judgement and when speaking to me there was never a note of condensation in your voice. I drank it in, so parched was my soul for something that would sate it, that would make the fact I was trapped in a state I should have left behind several lifetimes ago negligible. Yet you did something to it I couldn't even begin to understand, something I now wonder even existed.
And it comes back to that, we said so much and promised everything. Did we really though? Or have we both been caught in the net of our own dreams? I so desperately want to break though, but seeing you again means the dream ends. I know you can't possibly be all that my mind has made you out to be, and a millennium of daydreaming and imagining hasn't helped. I am no longer a child, I move and think differently. I've changed, what if we meet and realize that what is past is past, that our souls no longer aline? It’s strange, I spent so much time and energy acting the way I thought a lady would act, doing everything myself, not relying on anyone or anything. This lead to me being half a girl, half a woman; everyone I knew viewing me totally one way or the other, succeeding only in isolating myself. I think that is why I was sent back, utopian ideals don’t always translate well to the transition out of childhood. And then there was you. You who somehow saw both the curious, laughing, weak, needy child and the strong, graceful, beautiful woman underneath. You treated me like a child, indulged my fantasies, let me ride you through my mind’s creations, listened to my stupid complaints. Yet you also treated me as an equal, someone whose thoughts and opinions mattered and who could be useful rather than dead weight who waves a stick around, performing a part rather than having any real effect. You needed me as much as I needed you. Did I really need you though, or just to be needed? With age comes doubt (age is probably the wrong word, am I presumptuous to use wisdom?) and it has seeped into the pure innocent hopes we shared back then. I view the world through different lenses now, though they are still light they are no longer rose. They have been darkened by watching a person I sweat, learned, bled, danced and wept with shove me aside and accept my fate. The moment the essence of life abandoned her crimson eyes, mine grew hard, solidified by a glaze of tears. I, who had been fed the cliche “love conquers everything” since infancy could not save or revive her. That is why I am not able to cross into your world anymore, isn’t it? Are you angry with me? No, you don’t get angry. Disappointed. The little girl you knew who wanted more than anything to grow up did. And she isn’t the carefree dreamer of yesterday, today is too demanding to spend time thinking about what could be. And you are what could be. And despite myself and everything, I think of you when I try to sleep (I rarely sleep anymore). The only thing I can dream of is being saddled between those worlds, my seemingly perfect but ultimately flawed reality and your magnificent world of nothingness, wondering which one I am supposed to seek. I want to enter your world once more, but realize if I do I will no longer have a dream, for I will have seen your face again. And though it’s a face I ache to see, I fear what it will say when it finds out I am no longer the idealistic maiden of its memories. And the thought of that face looking at me with sadness, or worse, indifference, makes me never wish to dream again. So, do I let the last thing I have complete faith in continue? Or do I wake up and discover if dreams and reality are separate entities, or if they can bridge their divide and somehow meet?
--I've been sick and only managed to finish this one for sm_monthly, fail. I have a few more half finished entries I'll try to post at some point, right now I just want bed. I'll probably edit this some later today whilst procrastinating on papers, I have a feeling when I read it again after sleep it will look like utter crap.
Author: Catalina
Theme: Chibiusa/Helios
Genre: Angst
Version: Manga
Rating: G
I had that dream last night, the same one. It’s always the same one. I’m standing on the very edge of my world, with a backward glance I can see the harsh glint of crystal and hear the faint buzz and bustle the great city of my birth never loses. Just ahead I can make out sights and sounds far less concrete, lights and shadows tease themselves into shapes that pique and perplex my memory. I am mesmerized by colors I had once been intimately acquainted with, eyes widening like the child’s who had last seen them. I can make out the faintest of outlines, trees stretching in opposite directions towards the non existent earth and sky, flowers that dwell no where in my reality bloom in abundant clusters. I am uncertain how much I can physically see and how much my mind is filling in, the realm is so foreign and yet so familiar. An ache begins to form in my chest, I can remember so much but see so little. The soft beating of wings and clatter of hooves is caught by the wind, and the ache deepens. In vain I try to get closer, but the world of illusions denies me passage. Are you denying me as well? I can’t help but wonder, not that I blame you. I could never blame you. Maybe that’s a problem. It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other, and even then I gave you the highest distinction in my mind, putting you on a pedestal like children are wont to do. You never treated me like one though, your eyes possessed no judgement and when speaking to me there was never a note of condensation in your voice. I drank it in, so parched was my soul for something that would sate it, that would make the fact I was trapped in a state I should have left behind several lifetimes ago negligible. Yet you did something to it I couldn't even begin to understand, something I now wonder even existed.
And it comes back to that, we said so much and promised everything. Did we really though? Or have we both been caught in the net of our own dreams? I so desperately want to break though, but seeing you again means the dream ends. I know you can't possibly be all that my mind has made you out to be, and a millennium of daydreaming and imagining hasn't helped. I am no longer a child, I move and think differently. I've changed, what if we meet and realize that what is past is past, that our souls no longer aline? It’s strange, I spent so much time and energy acting the way I thought a lady would act, doing everything myself, not relying on anyone or anything. This lead to me being half a girl, half a woman; everyone I knew viewing me totally one way or the other, succeeding only in isolating myself. I think that is why I was sent back, utopian ideals don’t always translate well to the transition out of childhood. And then there was you. You who somehow saw both the curious, laughing, weak, needy child and the strong, graceful, beautiful woman underneath. You treated me like a child, indulged my fantasies, let me ride you through my mind’s creations, listened to my stupid complaints. Yet you also treated me as an equal, someone whose thoughts and opinions mattered and who could be useful rather than dead weight who waves a stick around, performing a part rather than having any real effect. You needed me as much as I needed you. Did I really need you though, or just to be needed? With age comes doubt (age is probably the wrong word, am I presumptuous to use wisdom?) and it has seeped into the pure innocent hopes we shared back then. I view the world through different lenses now, though they are still light they are no longer rose. They have been darkened by watching a person I sweat, learned, bled, danced and wept with shove me aside and accept my fate. The moment the essence of life abandoned her crimson eyes, mine grew hard, solidified by a glaze of tears. I, who had been fed the cliche “love conquers everything” since infancy could not save or revive her. That is why I am not able to cross into your world anymore, isn’t it? Are you angry with me? No, you don’t get angry. Disappointed. The little girl you knew who wanted more than anything to grow up did. And she isn’t the carefree dreamer of yesterday, today is too demanding to spend time thinking about what could be. And you are what could be. And despite myself and everything, I think of you when I try to sleep (I rarely sleep anymore). The only thing I can dream of is being saddled between those worlds, my seemingly perfect but ultimately flawed reality and your magnificent world of nothingness, wondering which one I am supposed to seek. I want to enter your world once more, but realize if I do I will no longer have a dream, for I will have seen your face again. And though it’s a face I ache to see, I fear what it will say when it finds out I am no longer the idealistic maiden of its memories. And the thought of that face looking at me with sadness, or worse, indifference, makes me never wish to dream again. So, do I let the last thing I have complete faith in continue? Or do I wake up and discover if dreams and reality are separate entities, or if they can bridge their divide and somehow meet?
--I've been sick and only managed to finish this one for sm_monthly, fail. I have a few more half finished entries I'll try to post at some point, right now I just want bed. I'll probably edit this some later today whilst procrastinating on papers, I have a feeling when I read it again after sleep it will look like utter crap.