Friday, January 30, 2015

Floating Gray

I'm not sure what my life is anymore.  I can barely recognize it.  It's like I'm floating outside my body, but I'm not really there.  Just....floating.

It's not a bad thing.  Oh my dear God it is not a bad thing at all.  In fact, everything is just perfect.  My bed is so soft that it makes me want to cry.  I can watch TV while lying down and drink soda and nobody tells me not to.  I have windows that look out over a city with so much color it's hard to make out any individual neon signs.  I have warmth and food and safety, I haven't even felt like I'm stalked lately.  I don't feel hunted, just like I'm living from day to day.  It's all so perfect, so scarily perfect.

I'm afraid to touch anything in case it shatters and falls apart like an elaborately painted mirror.

I haven't taken my things out of my bag except my computer.  I haven't needed to.  Miss Cordelia bought me new clothes and a new toothbrush and a new gray sweater because my last one was covered in blood.  There's no blood here.  Everything's really clean and white.  I always lie in the same spot on my bed and creep under the covers without moving them.

I haven't even set up my mom's picture on the nightstand.

I don't want to believe that this is real because I don't think I could stand having it taken away from me.  Maybe it's a life, a beautiful life that some people have, but it's not mine.  My life is full of blood and death and snow and darkness.

Not cities laid out like sparkling jewels and soft, soft beds.  So soft it makes me want to cry.  Too soft to close my eyes sometimes.

7 comments:

  1. What does it matter to you? Someone like you, why do you care to go out of your way to make me hate myself more?

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  2. Hush now, darling, keep those fingers quiet while they're still yours. There is nothing pathetic about Gray, trust me. He'll find that out for himself soon enough. Gray, don't engage with the likes of this one, it's simply not worth the trouble and exasperation. Your life here is reality, not fiction, and it isn't likely to be taken away from you any time soon. Believe that.

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  3. Of course I believe you, Miss Cordelia. It's just a big adjustment, I suppose.

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  4. Need me to deliver a nice dose of reality to our buddy Craft? Heheheheheheheh.

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  5. 'Oh no, everything is so perfect.'

    Pffft. Pampered proxy problems

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    Replies
    1. You may not be a proxy but grey certainly is. Hes got that trademark proxy whine. He even blindly follows people around.

      And as a crafter's manufactured imaginary friend, you'd do well not to call others puppets. I've got no strings and you're not real.

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    2. I won't because I don't have those. And I've done my homework and I seems more likely to me that you're a byproduct of inherent crafting talent forged to handle the things gray himself is to weak to do on his own.

      A security blanket to the extreme. A puppet in thought and purpose.

      Delete