moody, she is.
I appear to have accidentally sedated myself by playing a sleeping spell on the piano. No I am not making this up as I was playing I got tireder and tireder until I could barely keep my eyes open let alone play. As soon as I stopped playing the effects began to wear off.
I want to know what's going on, damn it. Things keep HAPPENING to me in a way that makes me... wary. What is going on? I feel transformed. I am not sure what I mean by this. Or what this means. Who -- or what -- am I? I woke this morning as one woman, and found her quickly outliving her usefulness (timid, frightened thing, of no use to a king), and found for myself a purposeful woman with power and authority. And now it seems she is transforming me, transcending my moment of need and making me into a creature with wings.
I feel the heartbeat of a storm, somewhere very near me. I feel something rising up inside me, a wave, a motion, a movement. I feel poetry, stirring in the wind, and a desperate, hungry longing for a thing with no name. Ah, my old friend, you return to me again, my foe that is desire, the nameless things which haunt and torment me with aimless restless wanting that has no satisfaction save once or twice in quieting another's unease and by extension my own.
And I feel it... hide and seek, blind man's bluff, catch-me-if-you-can, I am losing my good senses to the inevitability of a game. If I lead, will you follow? If I fly, will you rise up? If I run, will you catch me? Come after me, I want you to win me as your prize -- but you must win me, first.
Or will I begin running, and fly to the flaming sea, and leave everyone and everything behind in the wake of my wings?
Nothing could ever catch me when I took my flight. And I could run so far, so fast, and hide, so deep, so well, you might never find me. Dare I run, dare I relieve this weariness, knowing full well what terrible thing could be? Dare I go, dare I do? Dare I run? Dare I break and fly?
I dare not... what holds me here? Nay, nothing, no thing... then who? Who do I fear to leave behind, who do I fear will not get the game nor catch me at it?
I want to know what's going on, damn it. Things keep HAPPENING to me in a way that makes me... wary. What is going on? I feel transformed. I am not sure what I mean by this. Or what this means. Who -- or what -- am I? I woke this morning as one woman, and found her quickly outliving her usefulness (timid, frightened thing, of no use to a king), and found for myself a purposeful woman with power and authority. And now it seems she is transforming me, transcending my moment of need and making me into a creature with wings.
I feel the heartbeat of a storm, somewhere very near me. I feel something rising up inside me, a wave, a motion, a movement. I feel poetry, stirring in the wind, and a desperate, hungry longing for a thing with no name. Ah, my old friend, you return to me again, my foe that is desire, the nameless things which haunt and torment me with aimless restless wanting that has no satisfaction save once or twice in quieting another's unease and by extension my own.
And I feel it... hide and seek, blind man's bluff, catch-me-if-you-can, I am losing my good senses to the inevitability of a game. If I lead, will you follow? If I fly, will you rise up? If I run, will you catch me? Come after me, I want you to win me as your prize -- but you must win me, first.
Or will I begin running, and fly to the flaming sea, and leave everyone and everything behind in the wake of my wings?
Nothing could ever catch me when I took my flight. And I could run so far, so fast, and hide, so deep, so well, you might never find me. Dare I run, dare I relieve this weariness, knowing full well what terrible thing could be? Dare I go, dare I do? Dare I run? Dare I break and fly?
I dare not... what holds me here? Nay, nothing, no thing... then who? Who do I fear to leave behind, who do I fear will not get the game nor catch me at it?