Thoughts
This is a tiny drabble because, I really don't use this journal-thing often, do I?
Title: Thoughts
Fandom: Naruto
Character(s): Sasuke.
Summary: Somewhere in the mayhem, he lost the ability to think. IC/Sasuke-centric drabble.
The questions arose when he stopped being able to think.
The cumulous clouds formed in his mind and overtook everything until he could not discern the true from the false-or the false from the truth. Just when the suspicious plots began to emerge from the woodworks, just when all things made of sensibility and rationality began to crumble, so too did he.
And he lost the mental capacity to rationalize; even being praised as a genius and a paradigm for shinobi excellence, they could not see the fact that he did not know what this was or what that was, but rather he took note of what the others said and did. If they so chose to dub a chair a dog, he would follow their heed and ridicule the moron who tried to show the verity. If the adults so chose to change the world for the worse, he would follow in their footsteps and conjure up black holes wherever he could.
They could not dare to stop him, he declared in a voice that should've been too young to speak of burned villages and blood-crusted daggers and more. Yet, speak the voice did, and somehow the others knew they could not sway his beliefs or change the ideals of someone who'd long stopped thinking. There were the ones who quietly sat back while shaking their heads and there were the ones who reveled in the chaos that would surely unfold in direr times.
(Was he a monster or was the rest of the world?)
The continuous mountings of-I can't think, how can you think, no you liar you can't think, no one can think-unreasonable thoughts caused mouldable children to lose their hearts to vice grips. Why had they poured their souls into the hands of someone who did not know what to do with such feelings? The others gazed at the situations, preferring not to deal or acknowledge or take credit. And when more questions amounted, the one who could not think felt his thoughts trickle out.
-I wanted the world but it didn't want me-
Or perhaps maybe the world had wanted him, wanted him so bad that it would rip away all he cherished so that he could only love and cherish it. The boy considered this for fleeting seconds before his head opened up and more thoughts trickled out, becoming a part of the wind; and if the other children cared to see, they would notice pretty letters decorating the clouds. They would notice that the seas were made of tears and that the adults they venerated were no more than children themselves.
Some challenged him. Some thought it brilliant to defy something revered, simply for the sake of what it was. Even if the boy did not understand the motivation behind it, he let them content themselves with their peculiar notions. Those watery-eyed children with no aspirations beyond the shallowest of shallow ones were all too eager to sacrifice their pride and rationality for the sake of experience.
He was all too eager to rip away their thoughts.
(Is this the mystery to unravel?)
They had a wonderful dalliance with the manifestation of hatred (or was it so much a love affair as it was a horror story?) and yet they were none the wiser.
How could they hope to survive?
He did not know how they'd live within the cruel world that clung to his bony arms and spindly legs, and frankly he did not care. As long as they did not think. As long as they did not shove their mindless contemplations into his breathing air. As long as he could break their heads apart and eat the thoughts they took for granted. If those requirements were followed then perhaps he could breathe in their presence and allow them to experience things he would never comprehend.
Maybe they could provide him with a purpose.
-I thought I already had a purpose-
More questions rose and the others turned their heads.
Title: Thoughts
Fandom: Naruto
Character(s): Sasuke.
Summary: Somewhere in the mayhem, he lost the ability to think. IC/Sasuke-centric drabble.
The questions arose when he stopped being able to think.
The cumulous clouds formed in his mind and overtook everything until he could not discern the true from the false-or the false from the truth. Just when the suspicious plots began to emerge from the woodworks, just when all things made of sensibility and rationality began to crumble, so too did he.
And he lost the mental capacity to rationalize; even being praised as a genius and a paradigm for shinobi excellence, they could not see the fact that he did not know what this was or what that was, but rather he took note of what the others said and did. If they so chose to dub a chair a dog, he would follow their heed and ridicule the moron who tried to show the verity. If the adults so chose to change the world for the worse, he would follow in their footsteps and conjure up black holes wherever he could.
They could not dare to stop him, he declared in a voice that should've been too young to speak of burned villages and blood-crusted daggers and more. Yet, speak the voice did, and somehow the others knew they could not sway his beliefs or change the ideals of someone who'd long stopped thinking. There were the ones who quietly sat back while shaking their heads and there were the ones who reveled in the chaos that would surely unfold in direr times.
(Was he a monster or was the rest of the world?)
The continuous mountings of-I can't think, how can you think, no you liar you can't think, no one can think-unreasonable thoughts caused mouldable children to lose their hearts to vice grips. Why had they poured their souls into the hands of someone who did not know what to do with such feelings? The others gazed at the situations, preferring not to deal or acknowledge or take credit. And when more questions amounted, the one who could not think felt his thoughts trickle out.
-I wanted the world but it didn't want me-
Or perhaps maybe the world had wanted him, wanted him so bad that it would rip away all he cherished so that he could only love and cherish it. The boy considered this for fleeting seconds before his head opened up and more thoughts trickled out, becoming a part of the wind; and if the other children cared to see, they would notice pretty letters decorating the clouds. They would notice that the seas were made of tears and that the adults they venerated were no more than children themselves.
Some challenged him. Some thought it brilliant to defy something revered, simply for the sake of what it was. Even if the boy did not understand the motivation behind it, he let them content themselves with their peculiar notions. Those watery-eyed children with no aspirations beyond the shallowest of shallow ones were all too eager to sacrifice their pride and rationality for the sake of experience.
He was all too eager to rip away their thoughts.
(Is this the mystery to unravel?)
They had a wonderful dalliance with the manifestation of hatred (or was it so much a love affair as it was a horror story?) and yet they were none the wiser.
How could they hope to survive?
He did not know how they'd live within the cruel world that clung to his bony arms and spindly legs, and frankly he did not care. As long as they did not think. As long as they did not shove their mindless contemplations into his breathing air. As long as he could break their heads apart and eat the thoughts they took for granted. If those requirements were followed then perhaps he could breathe in their presence and allow them to experience things he would never comprehend.
Maybe they could provide him with a purpose.
-I thought I already had a purpose-
More questions rose and the others turned their heads.