Fan Fiction ❯ Cathexis ❯ Note ( Chapter 1 )
[ P - Pre-Teen ]
By: angelchan 
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological / Drama / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 11.18.2001 | Updated On: 12.28.2002 | Pages: 2 | Words: 771 | Visits: 209 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological / Drama / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 11.18.2001 | Updated On: 12.28.2002 | Pages: 2 | Words: 771 | Visits: 209 | Status: Completed
Why does crying always hurt worse than anything else?
It was a question she'd asked herself many times, and to this day,
she'd never come up a sufficient answer. Whoever said crying helped
was either a fool or an idiot. It just made everything tighten up
inside and twist and turn and hurt even more.
Or maybe it was just her. Maybe she was wrong on the inside somehow,
some defective THING that was trying to pass herself off as human,
to others - and to herself.
She'd always tried to be perfect. Never for herself though. Always for
THEM. For her father, the man who had put a gun to his own head and
used that to convince her to do something. For her grandmother, who
couldn't keep a syllable spoken in confidence a secret if the fate of
the world depended on it. But also for her beloved mother, who had
always loved her no matter, but probably wouldn't if she ever knew all
her secrets. And for her mother's parents, who could always make her
life better.
And so for them, she pretended her life was better than it was. She
pretended to be happy and carefree and all the good things that she
wasn't, that she didn't REMEMBER how to be. Oh, there were moments
when she was, guarded moments when she let people past the walls she'd
erected around her heart and let them get close enough to touch her.
She never admitted to herself or to any of those she was trying to
please that she couldn't let people get close. She'd tried it before,
and she'd been burned by it. She'd had three best friends once, and
one by one, they had left her behind with no explanation, no words to
cling to. Even curses would have been something for her to remember,
instead of just silence.
She has two friends that she has claimed for many years. They're two
of the few people she has let inside her barriers. They left her once
too, but they came back. She knows she shouldn't have, but she
welcomed them with open arms. They know most of her secrets, but not
all of them. Never all of them. She now has two other friends who
live in the same city as her and who seem to want to get close to her
if she'll let them, but she can't. She feels too exposed as it is now.
But that's just the people around her. She knows she has friends all
across the world, thanks to that wonderful invention called the
internet. She has a friend in Texas who thinks of her as an older
sister. This is one of the reasons she's stopped herself on more than
one occasion. She has a friend in Canada who made her cry and swear
never to try again. That's the main reason she stopped tonight - or
rather the reason she did not cut down her arm hard enough to draw
blood, not hard enough even to leave a white pressure trail.
But the real reason she stopped THIS time was the same reason THIS
arguement - this familial dispute - started: a person a state away
from her, a mere five hours drive away, who means more to her than
anyone else has in a long, long time. A person she is not only willing
to, but WANTS to tell all her secrets to. Someone she could quite
possibly -
But now the chances of that kind of perfection is over. The stuff of
this argument was that she could not go to the person she wanted to
go to. And that was all she wanted to do for this holiday season. It
was the one thing she had planned around, even asking off from the two
jobs she had taken mostly to keep herself out of the house. She was
trying her hardest in school, so that she would feel like she had
acheived something when she left to go up there. But now...
When she turned fifteen, she was certain she'd have died of happiness
before her eighteenth birthday. When she turned eighteen, she was
coming to the conclusion it wasn't happiness that would kill her
before she turned twenty-one. And now here she is, twenty-one years
old. She's been twenty-one since February 2001. She now KNOWS she
won't live to see twenty-two. Not unless something changes drastically
in the next few months.
But she is also pretty sure that things will never change enough to
save her.
And one night she won't stop the knife from cutting.
18 November 2001
Eternal SailorM (Angel-chan)
It was a question she'd asked herself many times, and to this day,
she'd never come up a sufficient answer. Whoever said crying helped
was either a fool or an idiot. It just made everything tighten up
inside and twist and turn and hurt even more.
Or maybe it was just her. Maybe she was wrong on the inside somehow,
some defective THING that was trying to pass herself off as human,
to others - and to herself.
She'd always tried to be perfect. Never for herself though. Always for
THEM. For her father, the man who had put a gun to his own head and
used that to convince her to do something. For her grandmother, who
couldn't keep a syllable spoken in confidence a secret if the fate of
the world depended on it. But also for her beloved mother, who had
always loved her no matter, but probably wouldn't if she ever knew all
her secrets. And for her mother's parents, who could always make her
life better.
And so for them, she pretended her life was better than it was. She
pretended to be happy and carefree and all the good things that she
wasn't, that she didn't REMEMBER how to be. Oh, there were moments
when she was, guarded moments when she let people past the walls she'd
erected around her heart and let them get close enough to touch her.
She never admitted to herself or to any of those she was trying to
please that she couldn't let people get close. She'd tried it before,
and she'd been burned by it. She'd had three best friends once, and
one by one, they had left her behind with no explanation, no words to
cling to. Even curses would have been something for her to remember,
instead of just silence.
She has two friends that she has claimed for many years. They're two
of the few people she has let inside her barriers. They left her once
too, but they came back. She knows she shouldn't have, but she
welcomed them with open arms. They know most of her secrets, but not
all of them. Never all of them. She now has two other friends who
live in the same city as her and who seem to want to get close to her
if she'll let them, but she can't. She feels too exposed as it is now.
But that's just the people around her. She knows she has friends all
across the world, thanks to that wonderful invention called the
internet. She has a friend in Texas who thinks of her as an older
sister. This is one of the reasons she's stopped herself on more than
one occasion. She has a friend in Canada who made her cry and swear
never to try again. That's the main reason she stopped tonight - or
rather the reason she did not cut down her arm hard enough to draw
blood, not hard enough even to leave a white pressure trail.
But the real reason she stopped THIS time was the same reason THIS
arguement - this familial dispute - started: a person a state away
from her, a mere five hours drive away, who means more to her than
anyone else has in a long, long time. A person she is not only willing
to, but WANTS to tell all her secrets to. Someone she could quite
possibly -
But now the chances of that kind of perfection is over. The stuff of
this argument was that she could not go to the person she wanted to
go to. And that was all she wanted to do for this holiday season. It
was the one thing she had planned around, even asking off from the two
jobs she had taken mostly to keep herself out of the house. She was
trying her hardest in school, so that she would feel like she had
acheived something when she left to go up there. But now...
When she turned fifteen, she was certain she'd have died of happiness
before her eighteenth birthday. When she turned eighteen, she was
coming to the conclusion it wasn't happiness that would kill her
before she turned twenty-one. And now here she is, twenty-one years
old. She's been twenty-one since February 2001. She now KNOWS she
won't live to see twenty-two. Not unless something changes drastically
in the next few months.
But she is also pretty sure that things will never change enough to
save her.
And one night she won't stop the knife from cutting.
18 November 2001
Eternal SailorM (Angel-chan)