Siblings
Amelia Zukov is up and running at five AM.
These days, she likes to think she doesn't sleep much because she doesn't need to anymore. It's partial truth, as with the illness went many of its symptoms, including the constant exhaustion. Whatever of her demon essence that was broken is fixed now, and presumably, working well, her body's eccentricities and tolerances have changed. These are the things she knows logically, the things that she can reason out, and find comfort in their concrete truth.
Just because I'm losing
Doesn't mean I'm lost...
It's the conflict she's always had a problem with, isn't it; the emotional conflict.
She was fifteen when she took that fall down the stairs, and it was nearly that same amount of time before she woke to the world. Her body doesn't look thirty-one, and Amelia doesn't feel it, either, but that's what the calendar calculates. She has to constantly ignore the contradiction she has between fact and feeling. She has to ignore that she feels as if she's been sleeping most of her life. She can't admit how terrified she is of unconsciousness every time exhaustion begins to set in.
Doesn't mean I'll stop
Doesn't mean I will cross...
Amelia huffs heavy as she makes it to her halfway point of the morning run. The sun is creeping onto Cape May's beach, bright and piercing, but the wind is good and keeping the heat from being intolerable. She misses Alaska, especially the cold, but just now she can't be in that huge, empty house. Being here, enjoying the summer, enjoying the sunlight and the beach... it's where she needs to be. It's not the clean water, posh atmosphere, and pompous company she was used to keeping, but that's for the better. It's all for the better.
Just because I'm hurting
Doesn't mean I'm hurt...
Sometimes, though, when the sun shines just right in her eyes, she can remember the light in the ceiling over her, her perceptions dull from the D'Aubigne's drug, then someone's shadow and weight covering her, and the light dimmed in the overwhelming shadow...
Doesn't mean I didn't get what I deserve
No better and no worse...
She doesn't stop until she's home again. Her legs ache and her lungs burn, and she doubles over at the driveway spigot to wash her face with cold, clean water. The salt gets into your skin here. It keeps chest colds away fairly well if you can stay out of the bitter winds of the winter, but it wreaks havoc on the skin.
Not like Amelia's trying to impress anybody, anyway. Not anymore.
I just got lost...
These days, she likes to think she doesn't sleep much because she doesn't need to anymore. It's partial truth, as with the illness went many of its symptoms, including the constant exhaustion. Whatever of her demon essence that was broken is fixed now, and presumably, working well, her body's eccentricities and tolerances have changed. These are the things she knows logically, the things that she can reason out, and find comfort in their concrete truth.
Just because I'm losing
Doesn't mean I'm lost...
It's the conflict she's always had a problem with, isn't it; the emotional conflict.
She was fifteen when she took that fall down the stairs, and it was nearly that same amount of time before she woke to the world. Her body doesn't look thirty-one, and Amelia doesn't feel it, either, but that's what the calendar calculates. She has to constantly ignore the contradiction she has between fact and feeling. She has to ignore that she feels as if she's been sleeping most of her life. She can't admit how terrified she is of unconsciousness every time exhaustion begins to set in.
Doesn't mean I'll stop
Doesn't mean I will cross...
Amelia huffs heavy as she makes it to her halfway point of the morning run. The sun is creeping onto Cape May's beach, bright and piercing, but the wind is good and keeping the heat from being intolerable. She misses Alaska, especially the cold, but just now she can't be in that huge, empty house. Being here, enjoying the summer, enjoying the sunlight and the beach... it's where she needs to be. It's not the clean water, posh atmosphere, and pompous company she was used to keeping, but that's for the better. It's all for the better.
Just because I'm hurting
Doesn't mean I'm hurt...
Sometimes, though, when the sun shines just right in her eyes, she can remember the light in the ceiling over her, her perceptions dull from the D'Aubigne's drug, then someone's shadow and weight covering her, and the light dimmed in the overwhelming shadow...
Doesn't mean I didn't get what I deserve
No better and no worse...
She doesn't stop until she's home again. Her legs ache and her lungs burn, and she doubles over at the driveway spigot to wash her face with cold, clean water. The salt gets into your skin here. It keeps chest colds away fairly well if you can stay out of the bitter winds of the winter, but it wreaks havoc on the skin.
Not like Amelia's trying to impress anybody, anyway. Not anymore.
I just got lost...