|Darth Calliope's Creative Journal. (dee_cees_cj) wrote,|
@ 2011-01-11 06:26:00
Chapter One: Thoughts
Nice party you've got going on there. Yeah, very nice indeed. Are you expecting me to come down? If so, don't hold your breath, I've had it up to here with everyone's affinity toward that apathetic bastard. "Oh, but he has such a tragic past"… And "Oh, he looks so lonely just standing there all by himself" Psh. If he looks so lonely, why don't you just waltz on up to him and ask him for a friendly glance? Huh? Oh wait! You don't want to because, even though you think he's just so lonely, you don't have the tenacity to ask him if he wants company! How much sense does that make? None! Yeah, aren't I being the selfish little demon?
Bah, forget it! What do they care about me anyhow? To them, I'm just a meal ticket, a useless piece of history that could possibly aid their purpose. Nice. Oh, and while I'm thinking about it; how many times have I heard my name paired with the word "Thanks"? None. Zero. Yeah, all of their thanks go to that sulky little punk with an allegedly "tragic" past. Tragic? What's so tragic about creation? He was created, in a sense, the same way we were. What makes him different from the rest of us?! I know he’s supposedly made of synthetic material. Um, in a sense, aren't HUMANS like a synthetic material to Filgaia? I mean, Filgaia is a living, breathing organism, with the Guardians serving as a conductor of sorts to channel the energy to where it needs to be. Without Filgaia, there would be no Guardians, without Guardians, there would be no Filgaia. How hard is that to understand?
I am getting off tangent. How is it that my mind always wanders back toward the Guardians? Is it because I feel so shunned by them? Perhaps. I never really did feel needed by anyone or anything. Great, just great, now I'm sounding like him… Gee, his name falls from my lips like a curse. He is a curse. Sure he's linked to Filgaia, but aren't we all? I hate him. Don't I? I no longer know, and, at this point, no longer care. Let them have their little party. I'm all right up here by myself. No, really, I am! I have no need for embrace. Why is it so hard for them to believe that I can cry and frown? Do I really seem that shallow? Why am I thinking this? Why are my hands reaching for the whiskey flask? Because I'm weak and that's what they want me to do. But, you know what? I've stilled my hands, they're resting shakily on my knees and my eyes wander the window to the outside world.
Wow, the stars are really pretty tonight. Maybe I'll just let my mind wander off… Hm, there are so many stars; I wonder how long it would take to count them. Maybe I'll just start counting… maybe I truly will become lost in their bright depths. Bright. That's one word that describes her. She's so different from him, and not so different from me. However, even with those thoughts expelled into the open, our circumstances do not change. She, at best, acknowledges me as a convenient acquaintance, nothing more, and nothing less. That bothers me, it bothers me a lot. I guess that's because I want so much for her to share my sentience. And, you may ask, what sentience is that? The sentience of mutual love and respect.
It's strange; I've never truly been in love. All of my encounters thus far have been of the lustful, distasteful, kind, and, those relationships did not even reach a point of importance. As in, for those with a dull mind, never reached the point of intimacy. Oh yeah, great way to put it, you dumb fuck. Apparently, now, you're a self-appointed genius! What will I think of next? Oh, I know, I'll find a way NOT to be an idiot. That's great, just great; I need to appoint myself a plaque of some sort. Yeah. A plaque which declares "Here Sits the Jerk Off of the CENTURY! Come and Hulk at His STUPENDOUS Monotony!" Oh yeah, that fits so very well. Why am I thinking these thoughts now? Why? Is it because I've actually HAD time to think of my own shortcomings? More than likely, I had to get away from all of that senseless coddling of the punk.
Back to Jet. Great. If someone could read my thoughts, one might assume that I'm obsessed with him. Perhaps I am. Perhaps I'm attracted to him in a very hateful way. Not the best way to be attracted to someone, might I add. No, if you think, even for a moment, that I'd be attracted to him in that way, you are a sicker person than I once thought! Hm, I suppose that it is never good, in the world of psychology anyway, to hold conversations with yourself. Right. But WAIT! Ha! I don't give a damn. Now let me just sit here and waddle in my own self loathing and pity! Great. Yeah, look at me go!
I've never felt like this. It puzzles me, it eludes me, and it drives me crazy. How can she love him at all? HOW?! Why can't I have the pleasure of laying my eyes upon her form without be scolded for being a pervert? Oh wait, Gallows, that's because you're so shallow! That's right, never mind the fact that I possibly, just maybe, have a semblance of intelligence! Heavens NO, that would break the mold and cause Filgaia to rip itself apart. Way to go, Gallows, you've gone and done it again. Managed to fuck up another great plan. Heh. Right. I can just hear Granny now.
"Gallows, how did your parents produce such a dullard?!"
You know what, Granny? Fuck you. You don't understand me, and I really wish that you'd just kick the bucket and leave me ALONE! … What am I saying? I don't mean that. I think. Hell, I don't know WHAT to think anymore. I just want a direction, a light that I can follow to an answer.
Virginia. She's so close now, I can smell her. The smell of vanilla and roses is just too hard not to notice. Guardian's… Am I really that obsessed? No. But, I swear I feel her, like she's right next to me. I want her to hold me, and whisper into my ear false comfort. I want her beside me, kissing me, telling me that she loves me. But that won't happen. Ever. And, do you want to know why? It's because of the image that every one else has thrown upon the poor woman.
"Oh, look at Jet, he needs someone to kiss him and hold him, and overall, baby him to make his past boo-boo's go away. Sure, I pitied him at first; I tried to show him affection. Hell, I've even tried to give him a hug to show him I care. But, as we all know, Jet REFUSES any sort of affection. He's inadvertently attention whoring. Hm, whore, now there's a word I've never heard before! Of course I've never heard Jet refer to me as "The Baskarian Whore." Or Halle quietly refers to me as her whore of a grandson. Of COURSE, it doesn't rip a burning gash out of my heart with angry swipes. Of course not, that's because I HAVE no feelings, I HAVE no intelligence.
I'm so lonely. So very lonely without her…. I'm going to lie down; perhaps these feelings will disappear with dreams. I'm sure my dreams will be about her. They always are. I can dream and treat you right there, Virginia, even if my embrace is ephemeral. I'd do anything for you. You only need to ask. I'd do anything. Anything…at… all.