#5 She thought
Jan 29th, 2007 by Ashley
“If it’s too late, it’s too late. Gotta get myself up and running first. ”
And she cannot imagine not being able to be touched by music, those deep and meaningful, soul searching, refelction arousing, ripping your heart out rock music and all those magnificantly beautiful things in life. But still…
Oh, and she was asked about you the other night. Casually though, cos the person knew little about you. A rather simple question stirred something meant to be precipitated, hurled up a great angst again. She looked away while giving a blury answer, but she most likely didn’t contain herself well.
“If it isn’t too much of a trouble.” sometimes she speaks with that much politeness as if she’ll break something, probably crystal, if she isn’t gentle enough. But she’s holding that plastic cup from the very begining, and you can’t help but wonder if she has any idea or not. And she was so frustrated realizing that she cannot get those memories back and she blamed herself for not having done something to save them, you know, this is how she’s like. Holding that fucking cheap plastic cup, staining her own precious little hands, standing in the rain, numb, pale, yet you can’t believe it, beautiful. She’s sometimes like a helpless kid in the fog, in the prairie, on the sea without a guiding light and you thought she’s gonna drown, she’d cry, she’d rip her lung and shout your name but she didn’t even breathe hard.
You almost thought she’d died.
You don’t get her. And it’s so damn hard for you to perceive that she’s never to get but to be treasured in the warmth of your palm and you were out there searching, pursuing, waving the flag saying you’re going hunting. Oh how, oh my, you’re blind and you cannot hear the sigh, her very last, faint, you-have-to-listen-with-your-heart-while-it’s-soft sigh. And are you telling me that you don’t deserve to be finger-pointed at face with a harsh “shame on you”?
The glass shattered like a glamourous broken dream mezmerizing all of us, yet it’s in fact nothing else but a tragedy.
“If it’s too late, it’s too late,” she thought, “Gotta get myself up and running first. ”
And she cannot imagine be with a person for the rest of her life who is not able to be touched by music, those deep and meaningful, soul searching, reflection arousing, ripping-your-heart-out rock music and all those magnificently beautiful things in life. But still…
Oh, and she was asked about you the other night, casually though, cos the person knew little about your relationship. A rather simple question stirred something meant to be precipitated and hurled up a great angst again. She looked away while giving a blurry answer, but she most likely didn’t contain herself well.
“If it isn’t too much of a trouble,” sometimes she speaks with that much politeness as if she’ll break something, probably crystal, if she isn’t gentle enough. But she’s holding that plastic cup from the very beginning and you can’t help but wonder if she has any idea or not. And she was so frustrated realizing that she cannot get those voice messages back, the only thing she had that comforts her at night, and she blamed herself for not having done something to save them, you know; this is how she’s like. Holding that fucking cheap plastic cup, staining her own precious little hands, standing in the rain, numb, pale, yet you can’t believe it, beautiful. She’s sometimes like a helpless kid in the fog, in the prairie, on the sea without a guiding light and you thought she’s going to drown, she’d cry, she’d rip out her lung and shout your name but she didn’t even breathe hard.
You almost thought she’d died.
You don’t get her. And it’s so damn hard for you to perceive that she’s never to get but to be treasured in the warmth of your palms and you were out there searching, pursuing, waving the flag saying you’re going hunting. Oh how, oh my, you’re blind and you cannot hear the sigh, her very last, faint, you-have-to-listen-with-your-heart-while-it’s-soft sigh. And are you telling me that you don’t deserve to be finger-pointed at face with a harsh “shame on you”?
The glass shattered like a glamorous broken dream mesmerizing all of us, yet it’s in fact nothing else but a tragedy.