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klena*Warning: the following LiveJournal entry contains a very highly-strung, emotional 15 year old*
Do you know that whenever you've got a splitting headache and cramps that are tearing your entire insides apart that having your History teacher come over before your next History test and saying 'Your test was shit' does do much to help your current mental state?
I do.
OK so yes I didn't really study and yes I did get the German Depression and hyperinflation mixed up and yes I was overly emotional about it but still....
What can you do? Study more perhaps. "_"
I'm very tired and very pissed off at several people including one male friend of mine who doesn't know yet.
So The Curse is looming over me and believe me, I'm a really bad tempered fucker when I'm at that time. Earlier I wanted to cry and scream and tear things apart. Now I just want to sleep and finally get some energy back so I can write more yaoi and more for Leah.
Oh yeah and finish some english essay on wide reading.
So as I run off and try to get some sleep as my mum insists on knocking out one of our living-room walls tomorrow I'm gonna leave you with Rya, my extreme-angst-girl
What was my name again?
“Rya.” I hear someone far away whisper and my dream’s swirl around me once more. I close my eyes from the invisible knives stabbing into them as always.
“Rya...” The voice whispers again and I wonder are they calling for me? Could someone’s voice hold that pain and longing I hear in this voice? Are they hurt by me? Have I been hurt by them? If they were calling for me, would they help me remember?
Who am I? Who are you? Why do you call for ‘Rya’ over and over when there’s no answer? Do you have hope, which I have lost?
Should I look at myself? Should I look to myself for the answers? Or do you hold them tenderly in your hand?
“Rya...Answer me...” The voice calls again and I listen this time. In this soft, longing voice I detect an accent I do not know but yet it reminds me of things I cannot remember. This voice seems sad and full of pain and infinite; I wish I could not hear them.
I look around and wonder with due precautions what I look like. Once I see the face that belongs to *me*, will my memories come flooding back like a dam bursting? Will the walls I do not see crumble to nothingness and finally let my soul free again?
Without a second thought my dreams swirl at a maddening rate to become a mirror. The colours swirl around me and I shut my eyes, fear weaving into my being. The melody of almost prayer sings through my veins, transforming from a gentle melody to a thundering diligent drum beat. My eyes flutter open and I turn to face the mirror, my hair flying around me. I would pray to know the reflection but I know not to which God I pray.
Do I believe in God? Do I pray to God? Do I believe in Him? Do I believe in anything?
My reflection startles me. I blink at someone I do not know, nor have I ever know. The girl watches me steadily with eyes of the darkest purple and the lightest blue. Her dark eye holds depth and despair but her light eye whispers hope and freedom to me. Contradictory eyes surrounded by flesh.
The girl’s skin has a slight bluish, dead tint to it and she blinks carefully at me, no shock or incomprehension registered on her face. Her hair swirls around her like a thundercloud, hell unleashed in her hair and glints of silver heaven shine at me to give me hope. The girl blinks with large, black, sweet lashes; innocence surrounds her like a shimmering veil of silver but there is hell in her face. She is clothed in black trousers, a purple sleeveless top that has gashes and slits in it; made to look as if
they were part of the top and a dark cover around her shoulders. I note the scars on her...On my face and neck; apparently I’m a fighter. Covered in gorgeous scars and words in a fluttering, beautifully foreign language come to me as I touch them with artistic fingers of silk.
There is a blade on my back and two weapons I do not know around my hips. I remove the weapons and read the names silently on the gilded handles of black hate and dawn pink. I notice how the weight is enlivening, not bizarre, in my hands. Toto and Veritas. Death and Truth.
I must have a twisted sense of humour. These weapons are scratched with battle wounds, engraving only visible to mine eyes. I see vision of deep purple apathy in there, surrounded by dead blue. Am I dead? Am I alive? What am I?
My legs give a milliseconds warning of trembling. I fall to my knees, slowly, gracefully, silently...Except my reflection still stands. The figure I know not frowns at me with pity in her blue eye and unreadable emotion in her purple eye.
//What are you doing to yourself? Don’t you know who you are anymore?// My reflection scolds me, the purple eye enthralling me. I shake my head, my hair flying around me confused.
“Rya? Can you hear me?....Are you still there?” I look up and see a shining light; could this person help me? Will there ever be someone I can call ‘myself’ with the knowledge of who I really am? The voice echoes around me and my reflection speaks to my mind once more. My image seems so sad and melancholy; her dejected disposition weaving into me to help me comprehend.
Silvery sorrow wells up in the base of her eyes and spills lovingly over her scarred and unblemished cheeks.
//I can’t help you anymore than I am now. But you must CHANGE who you were. This person whose voice you hear will not help you; they destroyed you and imprisoned you here. Trust yourself, and only
yourself...//
My likeness sheds a tear that falls onto my face and burns like acid; tracing down a path that has been paved before. I want to cry forever...
My mirror image, my beloved twin, the other half of me fades away still weeping while I cannot. I have to find myself. My mind. My heart...My soul?
Do I feel? Does this aching pain in my heart and throughout my body prove that I am human? If I am human, why do I have blue skin? Have I been dead?
I search my feelings; only remembering that I am vaguely ‘human.’ I feel.....nothing. There is nothing inside me besides a poem or a song...Whispers of cloudy hopelessness and shining belief say
‘I ran, He chased,
I lost, and He won.
He won my heart...
And tore it to shreds.’
How miserable. This is such a good start to a life that I don’t know. So I cannot even be happy now? It is not enough that I have severe amnesia but I have to live a life as no one?! I have to be some angsty-depressed-miserable-child?...
I’m a child? How do I know this? My body seems matured enough, in simple terms I have breasts, so why do I believe I am a child?
Will my voice reveal the truth to me? I have not spoken a word yet and my eyes sting again from the whirling of my mind and the technicolours around me. Wind whips my hair into my eyes with vicious accuracy. My delicate little hands place Toto and Veritas back in their protective pouches and I open my moist lips to speak for the first time.
“I hear you...”
How odd and unfamiliar my voice sounds but in the depths of my soul it stirs a faint melody that makes me sad and lonely. My voice is softly spoken and gently but there is steel in that voice. There is depth and consideration in this voice I do not know. My voice holds longing and hurt in joint equality and something pains me as I speak.
“Who am I?” I question no one; hoping against everything that maybe hearing the question ringing in my own ears will help my broken, fractured mind.
It doesn’t. Nothing is triggered in my mind except for a little girl who looks so lost and confused. She screams something in a language I do not know. She stops, as if someone is saying something, and then she falls down, tears beginning to tremble down her round, childish cheeks. I note how she looks like me in a way...could I have a sister?
The voice interrupts my thoughts again and I ignore them. If my reflect- if I don’t trust them, then I should trust myself. Trust only myself.
“Leave me alone.” I whispered quietly, my voice gentle but firm. It’s like a silken cover with a knife hidden underneath. The blade shines in this world of nothingness and half-formed memories. The child screams for retribution in my mind and I shove her away.
“Leave. Me. Alone.” I grit out slowly, my soft voice swallowed by the steel I detected earlier. The steel is absorbed back into my body and I stand, my body forming back into a familiar mask with scarily practised ease. My eyes fall downwards as if I am afraid of falling.
The black boots I wear are worn and tainted. Tainted with earth and rain and age and...Tainted with blood. I can feel it on my blue stained hands of silk. I can feel it trickle down my forehead, taunting me, haunting me, as I start to walk gracefully, my body swaying to unheard music.
//Where are you going?! You stupid child! You’ll die!//
The voice in my head screams at me with infinite worry and glints of tender caring. My mask tightens around my face.
So ? I don’t care. I’m going away. You can’t stop me. My feet are moving. I need to get out of this world of darkness and trickery and memories that do not exist. I’ll walk forever. I’ll walk through eternity and fade to nothingness. That’d’ll do me.
Thanks for the help.
Goodbye....
Please don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Haven't I always? ^_^
Do you know that whenever you've got a splitting headache and cramps that are tearing your entire insides apart that having your History teacher come over before your next History test and saying 'Your test was shit' does do much to help your current mental state?
I do.
OK so yes I didn't really study and yes I did get the German Depression and hyperinflation mixed up and yes I was overly emotional about it but still....
What can you do? Study more perhaps. "_"
I'm very tired and very pissed off at several people including one male friend of mine who doesn't know yet.
So The Curse is looming over me and believe me, I'm a really bad tempered fucker when I'm at that time. Earlier I wanted to cry and scream and tear things apart. Now I just want to sleep and finally get some energy back so I can write more yaoi and more for Leah.
Oh yeah and finish some english essay on wide reading.
So as I run off and try to get some sleep as my mum insists on knocking out one of our living-room walls tomorrow I'm gonna leave you with Rya, my extreme-angst-girl
What was my name again?
“Rya.” I hear someone far away whisper and my dream’s swirl around me once more. I close my eyes from the invisible knives stabbing into them as always.
“Rya...” The voice whispers again and I wonder are they calling for me? Could someone’s voice hold that pain and longing I hear in this voice? Are they hurt by me? Have I been hurt by them? If they were calling for me, would they help me remember?
Who am I? Who are you? Why do you call for ‘Rya’ over and over when there’s no answer? Do you have hope, which I have lost?
Should I look at myself? Should I look to myself for the answers? Or do you hold them tenderly in your hand?
“Rya...Answer me...” The voice calls again and I listen this time. In this soft, longing voice I detect an accent I do not know but yet it reminds me of things I cannot remember. This voice seems sad and full of pain and infinite; I wish I could not hear them.
I look around and wonder with due precautions what I look like. Once I see the face that belongs to *me*, will my memories come flooding back like a dam bursting? Will the walls I do not see crumble to nothingness and finally let my soul free again?
Without a second thought my dreams swirl at a maddening rate to become a mirror. The colours swirl around me and I shut my eyes, fear weaving into my being. The melody of almost prayer sings through my veins, transforming from a gentle melody to a thundering diligent drum beat. My eyes flutter open and I turn to face the mirror, my hair flying around me. I would pray to know the reflection but I know not to which God I pray.
Do I believe in God? Do I pray to God? Do I believe in Him? Do I believe in anything?
My reflection startles me. I blink at someone I do not know, nor have I ever know. The girl watches me steadily with eyes of the darkest purple and the lightest blue. Her dark eye holds depth and despair but her light eye whispers hope and freedom to me. Contradictory eyes surrounded by flesh.
The girl’s skin has a slight bluish, dead tint to it and she blinks carefully at me, no shock or incomprehension registered on her face. Her hair swirls around her like a thundercloud, hell unleashed in her hair and glints of silver heaven shine at me to give me hope. The girl blinks with large, black, sweet lashes; innocence surrounds her like a shimmering veil of silver but there is hell in her face. She is clothed in black trousers, a purple sleeveless top that has gashes and slits in it; made to look as if
they were part of the top and a dark cover around her shoulders. I note the scars on her...On my face and neck; apparently I’m a fighter. Covered in gorgeous scars and words in a fluttering, beautifully foreign language come to me as I touch them with artistic fingers of silk.
There is a blade on my back and two weapons I do not know around my hips. I remove the weapons and read the names silently on the gilded handles of black hate and dawn pink. I notice how the weight is enlivening, not bizarre, in my hands. Toto and Veritas. Death and Truth.
I must have a twisted sense of humour. These weapons are scratched with battle wounds, engraving only visible to mine eyes. I see vision of deep purple apathy in there, surrounded by dead blue. Am I dead? Am I alive? What am I?
My legs give a milliseconds warning of trembling. I fall to my knees, slowly, gracefully, silently...Except my reflection still stands. The figure I know not frowns at me with pity in her blue eye and unreadable emotion in her purple eye.
//What are you doing to yourself? Don’t you know who you are anymore?// My reflection scolds me, the purple eye enthralling me. I shake my head, my hair flying around me confused.
“Rya? Can you hear me?....Are you still there?” I look up and see a shining light; could this person help me? Will there ever be someone I can call ‘myself’ with the knowledge of who I really am? The voice echoes around me and my reflection speaks to my mind once more. My image seems so sad and melancholy; her dejected disposition weaving into me to help me comprehend.
Silvery sorrow wells up in the base of her eyes and spills lovingly over her scarred and unblemished cheeks.
//I can’t help you anymore than I am now. But you must CHANGE who you were. This person whose voice you hear will not help you; they destroyed you and imprisoned you here. Trust yourself, and only
yourself...//
My likeness sheds a tear that falls onto my face and burns like acid; tracing down a path that has been paved before. I want to cry forever...
My mirror image, my beloved twin, the other half of me fades away still weeping while I cannot. I have to find myself. My mind. My heart...My soul?
Do I feel? Does this aching pain in my heart and throughout my body prove that I am human? If I am human, why do I have blue skin? Have I been dead?
I search my feelings; only remembering that I am vaguely ‘human.’ I feel.....nothing. There is nothing inside me besides a poem or a song...Whispers of cloudy hopelessness and shining belief say
‘I ran, He chased,
I lost, and He won.
He won my heart...
And tore it to shreds.’
How miserable. This is such a good start to a life that I don’t know. So I cannot even be happy now? It is not enough that I have severe amnesia but I have to live a life as no one?! I have to be some angsty-depressed-miserable-child?...
I’m a child? How do I know this? My body seems matured enough, in simple terms I have breasts, so why do I believe I am a child?
Will my voice reveal the truth to me? I have not spoken a word yet and my eyes sting again from the whirling of my mind and the technicolours around me. Wind whips my hair into my eyes with vicious accuracy. My delicate little hands place Toto and Veritas back in their protective pouches and I open my moist lips to speak for the first time.
“I hear you...”
How odd and unfamiliar my voice sounds but in the depths of my soul it stirs a faint melody that makes me sad and lonely. My voice is softly spoken and gently but there is steel in that voice. There is depth and consideration in this voice I do not know. My voice holds longing and hurt in joint equality and something pains me as I speak.
“Who am I?” I question no one; hoping against everything that maybe hearing the question ringing in my own ears will help my broken, fractured mind.
It doesn’t. Nothing is triggered in my mind except for a little girl who looks so lost and confused. She screams something in a language I do not know. She stops, as if someone is saying something, and then she falls down, tears beginning to tremble down her round, childish cheeks. I note how she looks like me in a way...could I have a sister?
The voice interrupts my thoughts again and I ignore them. If my reflect- if I don’t trust them, then I should trust myself. Trust only myself.
“Leave me alone.” I whispered quietly, my voice gentle but firm. It’s like a silken cover with a knife hidden underneath. The blade shines in this world of nothingness and half-formed memories. The child screams for retribution in my mind and I shove her away.
“Leave. Me. Alone.” I grit out slowly, my soft voice swallowed by the steel I detected earlier. The steel is absorbed back into my body and I stand, my body forming back into a familiar mask with scarily practised ease. My eyes fall downwards as if I am afraid of falling.
The black boots I wear are worn and tainted. Tainted with earth and rain and age and...Tainted with blood. I can feel it on my blue stained hands of silk. I can feel it trickle down my forehead, taunting me, haunting me, as I start to walk gracefully, my body swaying to unheard music.
//Where are you going?! You stupid child! You’ll die!//
The voice in my head screams at me with infinite worry and glints of tender caring. My mask tightens around my face.
So ? I don’t care. I’m going away. You can’t stop me. My feet are moving. I need to get out of this world of darkness and trickery and memories that do not exist. I’ll walk forever. I’ll walk through eternity and fade to nothingness. That’d’ll do me.
Thanks for the help.
Goodbye....
Please don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Haven't I always? ^_^
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no subject
Date: 2002-06-14 03:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-06-18 01:28 am (UTC)*looks worried* I wouldn't happen to know this friend you're mad at would I?
*hugs again* I love you sis, e-mail me okay. Love- a slightly worried -Kelly
Re:
Date: 2002-06-19 02:09 pm (UTC)You might now this friend I'm mad at. I dunno, I'm worried now. How are YOU sis? Ya didn't die of boredom already didja?
I'll send Kathryn over again to help you. ^_^
I love you too Kel-chan.
Huggles and marshmellows
Kat