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Failure
“I might if you could handle both.”
She tried. She tried to handle it all. The voices, the anger, the expectations, school, society, people, darkness. Every moment of her life a tenuous walk on the tightrope between what she wanted to and what she would allow herself to do. Walk this far and no farther, lest she walk over the edge and fall. Could he not see it? The effort she spent to be who she was supposed to be. Or did he just not care? The thought cut deeply.
“You could try simply fitting in with society?”
Her father who had delighted in her inquisitiveness and taught her to form her own opinions…at the end of the day, it didn’t matter. He still wanted her to fit in, to make peace. Don’t ruffle feathers, leave the stones unturned. She knew that she would never be the daughter her mother wanted. She had thought, at least, that she could be the daughter her father wanted.
She could feel the tears and pain and rage building inside of her. Shadows spiraled around her hands and up her arms. She didn’t want to stop them. Maybe if she just let go, they would consume her.
Maybe her father was right. Maybe she couldn’t handle both. She had allowed herself to be happy, to find joy in life and people. Even to think she could love. Vera saw it too, that she couldn’t handle it, that she needed to be protected from herself. Society would never accept her. She would bring shame and pain to everyone close to her and what would she even have to show for it? Changes in laws? In society? She was fooling herself to think so.
Her grandmother was right. She couldn’t make the world she wanted by being a cog in the machine. She had to break the machine. Burn it to ash and start over.
Could she hold on long enough to obtain the power she needed? What would that look like? What if she couldn’t handle that either?
What if you can? What if you let yourself? Why are you holding back?
The thoughts made her head hurt. She should write them down, get them out like Muse suggested. She stumbled forward to her desk, the splitting pain behind her eyes making it difficult to move. She grabbed a piece of paper and dipped her pen in ink. She managed to write only one word before the searing pain of her headache was too much. With a cry, tendrils of dark energy shot from her hands and threw her writing desk over onto the floor with a crash. She took a deep breath and, smoothing her hands over her skirt, she bent to pick the desk back up. There on the floor next to it was the piece of paper with the one word she had managed to write: failure.
Continue reading...
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Who Doesn't Like a Good Soiree?
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Peg's Playlist
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Memories in Rain
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Consequences
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Mother Knows Best
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Always Too Much
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The Early Days
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The Akmon Appreciation Society
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Who Are You Fooling?
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Pretending
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Grim Things
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Childish Make-Believe
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Failure
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Afraid to Die
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Loved Until
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To Trust Yourself
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A Normal Life
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Roses and Thorns
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Through a Glass Darkly, Part One
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A Little Better?
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The Younger Orlov Daughter
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Choices and Actions
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Through a Glass Darkly, Part Two
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Roses and Thorns Revisited
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Adventures in Avalon
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Home
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Eyes
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Of Bravery and Cowardice
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Heroes and Villians
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Scars and Gaping Wounds
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