(no subject)
Oct. 6th, 2006 07:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
an_evening_starThere are angles, one supposes, that legs are not supposed to twist to. She can’t really claim to be an expert at such things, given that she has only been in possession of said legs for a relatively short period of time, but there are just some things that you know.
She knows, for example, that it's terribly cold and that everything hurts and the whole world is filled with dark, looming shapes – strange shadows and the silence that comes right after things fall apart.
And it's not that she’s not scared. It's just that she hates it.
Hates the way her ears are ringing, limbs are heavy, fingers curled numbly around a sliver chain that she can't leave behind. Hates how she can’t seem to do anything other than sit and shake and wish that she had never looked down and wondered what the world was like.
Most of all, the star knows, with a horrible sort of certainty, that she will never be able to go home again. That from now until forever home will be something she can only see through gaps in the trees.
Head tilted toward the sky and eyes swimming with some strange distortion – wants to be there there there, anywhere but here – she strains so hard to see, but it's all too far away.
And she isn't crying – because she's not scared.
She knows, for example, that it's terribly cold and that everything hurts and the whole world is filled with dark, looming shapes – strange shadows and the silence that comes right after things fall apart.
And it's not that she’s not scared. It's just that she hates it.
Hates the way her ears are ringing, limbs are heavy, fingers curled numbly around a sliver chain that she can't leave behind. Hates how she can’t seem to do anything other than sit and shake and wish that she had never looked down and wondered what the world was like.
Most of all, the star knows, with a horrible sort of certainty, that she will never be able to go home again. That from now until forever home will be something she can only see through gaps in the trees.
Head tilted toward the sky and eyes swimming with some strange distortion – wants to be there there there, anywhere but here – she strains so hard to see, but it's all too far away.
And she isn't crying – because she's not scared.
