2004-05-27
Pain In The Night, and Sap In The Day

hearing: uhm oh man...what random song am I listening to at the moment...Radio Jesus Superstar - The Violet Burning
reading: (more like pretending to read) Othello by Shakespear and Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray
wearing: khaki colored capris, brown belt, red shirt, super long armwarmer, ring, faux pearl bead necklace

She lay abed, cold and shivering, tossing and turning, scarcely awake. The pain wracked its way through her body like a knife slicing her innards. And then fear would wash over her. Fear and despair like cold waves and tears would arise to her eyes.

The overwhelming desire to be held and comforted in someone's arms took control of her, and like a tiny child after a nightmare, she reached her arms out beyond her bed. Her confused, fevered, sleep heavy awareness told her that a couch lay beyond her bed. A couch, on which was a pair of comforting arms. A warm bulk sitting and waiting for her, waiting for her to tumble out of bed into their arms, where she would be recieved and caressed and sung back to sleep with a gentle lullaby.

But as soon as her arms shot out of bed, another part of herself, the conscious self, came through the mist of sleep and calmly and coldly reminded her that she was alone. There was no couch. There was no kind person. She must lie in the cold darkness by herself. She must comfort herself.

The side of her still asleep, felt like a tender child still whom had had a nightmare, and only wanted mommy to come smooth her brow and make all better, and that instead of mommy, a dark, cold policeman had come and told her that mommy was dead and was not ever coming to smooth her brow again. She didn't understand that the couch was not there. Surely it was. It was right there. There was someone on it. There was someone right there to ease her pain, to hush her fears, to let her cry the rest of her tears.

No, no dear. There is no couch. No one is there. You are utterly alone in the dark. No one is coming to save you. No one is coming to make it all better. You shall have to do that yourself.

And then the pain wracks the small frame and she shivers violently and tries to fight her way out of bed to the person she so desperately needs to be there but isn't, as she is pushed painfully back into the cold depth of sleep.

And how many times did the small girl fight through this cycle in a long dreary night? Too many...far too many...

And I desperately hope and pray that I do not have another night like that again.

Things have been really hard lately. There is a lot of distress, despair, stress, pain, depression, unhappiness, loneliness, all that sort of stuff from all that has been going on. And it's just way too much for me to keep up with and write about. I shall do what I can, but its hard to think about it all. I don't like to think of it. It is far easier for me to run about and keep busy. I must divert my mind. Then shall I feel better.

Example: I watched the end of the movie version of Emma last night. The version with Gwyenth Paltrow...Ewan MacGregor is in it too....he plays Frank Churchill. And he wears a horrible wig. That was really hideously disgusting. *shivers to think of it* But I do think a rather good job was done with it. Bravo. And the end is the best part. It made me so happy.

Dinner had just started, but the movie was still fifteen minutes from being over and the best part hadn't been gotten to yet. Because I watch so little tv, and do so much around the house, my parents were more than happy to let me sit out dinner and watch the rest of the movie. My dad even fixed a plate of food for me and brought it over to me so I could have my dinner without having to miss a moment of the movie.

That is why I try to be such a helpful, good, obedient, angel child who never asks for anything. I get more, and get rewarded better that way.

Anyway, I sat there, staring at the tv, looking most idiotic to be sure. My head half cocked and a delicously pleased smile on my face, as I watched Mr. Knightley finally reveal his true feelings for Emma, and Emma admitting her own love for him. I was really struck by idiocy and sappiness when I couldn't hear the tv for a moment, turned it up rather loud, and then a most inconvient silence fell upon those at the dinner table. Then, loud and clear as day, you could hear the immensely romantic exchanges of Mr. Knightley and Emma. I could have blushed crimson (if I was capable of blushing) at the knowledge that I was sitting out dinner just so I could watch this so intently. I was so fascinated...

But why must that be idiotic? Why? Don't make fun of me for being a sap. It's really not all that sad that I'd probably end up talking like that myself. *sniffs injuredly* Shush. I may try to deny it, but I am made up of a thoroughly romantic nature, always have been, always will be, and it's nothing to look down upon. Let me be myself.

I think that went in the wrong direction. That's ok though.

I think I need to go watch Little Women now.

:minja:

before & & after