hero: a vanishing point
I reread tongari's Hero today and remembered every bit why I find it so gorgeous, from its mystery to its art to the tiny little stories in it. But I was really touched by Valentine's desire and how, in a way, utterly self-destructive it is, the surest equivalent of "better to have lost than loved". So I opened a notepad and jotted some stuff down. It's like the writer's equivalent of sketching, you know? So it's not a real fic, more like a drabble, but it's something.
a vanishing point
the only sure-fire way to win. inspired by this page.
Let's say, it was you who burned down your own house. Let's say it was with a cigarette. So there go your photos, your books, maybe even the beautiful skin of a family member's hand, burnt up in a beautiful, deadly orange blaze and it's never going to come back and you're never going to be forgiven. This is bad, right? You want that all back again, and that's a desire, a simple desire, natural.
So you start with the easy things: What if I had pulled her out so that she would never have gotten burnt? What if I stepped on the fire to put it out? What if I poured my drink on the flame instead of standing there in a panic? What if I wasn't pouring that drink and that cigarette didn't drop on the carpet? What if I never lit that match?
We all do this, even with very mundane actions. But if it's something that matters very much to you, the imagining grows, like the roots of a tree underground, expanding, expanding, until you're far away from where you've started, until you can't even see leaves anymore, only wood pushing through dark, loamy dirt. The scenarios become ridiculous. What if I had never taken up smoking? What if I had never turned that corner, never met that friend, never took a smoke from the pack he offered me? What if the house was simply never built? What if I left the family at age ten to go on on a fantasy quest to find a unicorn and left my sister with my highly capable older brother and they never had to hear from me again? What if I could go back, erase the person who created matches, cigarettes, fires?
Desires are endless. They converge on the only thing that can exist in the end: What if I were never born?
So now, imagine a place where there is nothing. Imagine this place makes your desires real, so you can touch them, feel them, experience things that will never be possible. Imagine wanting something, wanting something so much you break your fingers for it, imagine that thing put in front of you, so close that you can taste it in the air, but when you touch it, it slips away in wind and sand and the flutter of someone's dusty sand-soaked blue scarf. Imagine this place is always the same, imagine it knows exactly what you want to see and plays it for you over and over and over again until you starve to death for wanting. Imagine it knows what you want better than you do.
You could go to this place, and you could see your house again. You go there with this vision the first few times, but then you start wondering, you start wanting more. Your greed consumes you. You start to see yourself not pouring that drink, yourself not smoking, yourself leaving the house at age ten.
Eventually, by the tenth, fiftieth time you go to this place, you'll see yourself not being born. It'll scare you that this is what you want the most, that you think your nonexistence would solve everything. But then it'll start to make sense. How else can you make sure it never happens? How else can you make sure you'll never hurt anyone again? If you just find the place where it begins, you can fix it so nothing will ever go wrong. Better to have started from nothing. Better to have never known compasses, white blond hair, mysteries, eyes clear like distilled song, sweetness so clean and pure it makes you forget pain--that kind of sweetness--
Sorry, I didn't mean to--
Look, it was just a metaphor. I've never burnt down anyone's house, okay? Well, at least not my own house.
As Tall As Lions-- Acrobat. It's not the lyrics, it's the instrumentals that make me think of that scene of Hero (Valentine trying to explain his desire to the so far nameless protagonist). I mean, I guess the lyrics help: "you'll always be beautiful." Hwei, don't hurt me. ;_;
a vanishing point
the only sure-fire way to win. inspired by this page.
Let's say, it was you who burned down your own house. Let's say it was with a cigarette. So there go your photos, your books, maybe even the beautiful skin of a family member's hand, burnt up in a beautiful, deadly orange blaze and it's never going to come back and you're never going to be forgiven. This is bad, right? You want that all back again, and that's a desire, a simple desire, natural.
So you start with the easy things: What if I had pulled her out so that she would never have gotten burnt? What if I stepped on the fire to put it out? What if I poured my drink on the flame instead of standing there in a panic? What if I wasn't pouring that drink and that cigarette didn't drop on the carpet? What if I never lit that match?
We all do this, even with very mundane actions. But if it's something that matters very much to you, the imagining grows, like the roots of a tree underground, expanding, expanding, until you're far away from where you've started, until you can't even see leaves anymore, only wood pushing through dark, loamy dirt. The scenarios become ridiculous. What if I had never taken up smoking? What if I had never turned that corner, never met that friend, never took a smoke from the pack he offered me? What if the house was simply never built? What if I left the family at age ten to go on on a fantasy quest to find a unicorn and left my sister with my highly capable older brother and they never had to hear from me again? What if I could go back, erase the person who created matches, cigarettes, fires?
Desires are endless. They converge on the only thing that can exist in the end: What if I were never born?
So now, imagine a place where there is nothing. Imagine this place makes your desires real, so you can touch them, feel them, experience things that will never be possible. Imagine wanting something, wanting something so much you break your fingers for it, imagine that thing put in front of you, so close that you can taste it in the air, but when you touch it, it slips away in wind and sand and the flutter of someone's dusty sand-soaked blue scarf. Imagine this place is always the same, imagine it knows exactly what you want to see and plays it for you over and over and over again until you starve to death for wanting. Imagine it knows what you want better than you do.
You could go to this place, and you could see your house again. You go there with this vision the first few times, but then you start wondering, you start wanting more. Your greed consumes you. You start to see yourself not pouring that drink, yourself not smoking, yourself leaving the house at age ten.
Eventually, by the tenth, fiftieth time you go to this place, you'll see yourself not being born. It'll scare you that this is what you want the most, that you think your nonexistence would solve everything. But then it'll start to make sense. How else can you make sure it never happens? How else can you make sure you'll never hurt anyone again? If you just find the place where it begins, you can fix it so nothing will ever go wrong. Better to have started from nothing. Better to have never known compasses, white blond hair, mysteries, eyes clear like distilled song, sweetness so clean and pure it makes you forget pain--that kind of sweetness--
Sorry, I didn't mean to--
Look, it was just a metaphor. I've never burnt down anyone's house, okay? Well, at least not my own house.
As Tall As Lions-- Acrobat. It's not the lyrics, it's the instrumentals that make me think of that scene of Hero (Valentine trying to explain his desire to the so far nameless protagonist). I mean, I guess the lyrics help: "you'll always be beautiful." Hwei, don't hurt me. ;_;