[DRAFT] For All The Years That Do Us Harm/And These Cold Comforts Warm(Stargate Atlantis)
Ah, got-it... *scribbles maddly*
For All The Years That Do Us Harm
Draft 1
Wordcount: 152 WIP
There are different kinds of hurt and different kinds of pain when you know the world is so much more than you have ever imagined it could be. And it's hard, if not impossible, to find any solace in knowing that the people you have fought, and suffered, and died to protect will never know even the smallest glimpse of everything you've seen. Everything you've done and stopped yourself from doing, because it was all so much bigger than yourself. And that makes your world so very very small now, against the backdrop of all you did and didn't do. To mow the lawn and pay the bills and push papers across desks and cry until your chest hurts and your eyes burn because it still isn't real and won't ever be real again, because you left real on the other side of a quantum sea and you're never going home again.
Draft 2
Wordcount: 116
There are different kinds of hurt and different kinds of pain when the world you knew was so much more than you'd ever imagined it could be. It's hard, if not impossible, to find solace here-- even knowing the home Atlantis fought, and suffered, and died to protect will never share your nightmares. Because your world's so very small, against the backdrop of all you've done and stopped yourself from doing. It's a shadow of a life and you cry until your chest hurts and your eyes burn, because it still isn't real and won't ever be real again. You left real on the other side of a quantum sea and you're never going home again.
Draft 3
Wordcount: 100
There are different kinds of hurt, different strata of pain -- when the life you've left behind was so much more than you'd ever imagined it could be. And it's hard, if not impossible, finding solace here; even knowing the home Atlantis fought, and suffered, and died to protect will never share your nightmares. Because your world's so very small now, against the backdrop of all you've done and could have done. It's a shadow of a life, and you cry until your chest hurts and your eyes burn, because it still isn't real and won't ever be real again.
~*~*~*~*~
And These Cold Comforts Warm
Draft 1
Wordcount: 106 WIP
Time and tides mend some wounds, but nothing wears away the scars. Sometimes the world is still too small and the sky too large, when memories of loves and loss and nightmares of what almost was swallows up the days. But they stay nightmares now, wispy and half-alive, and the world is too small in all the right ways. A single flower, a touch, a smile, and all the simple honest joys each moment brings. And when the nights loom large and the memories burn against the sky, they focus on each other, on the bits of home that they had never lost. And it's enough.
Draft 2
Wordcount: 100 WIP
Time mends some wounds, but nothing wears away the scars. Sometimes the world's still too small and the sky too large; when memories of loves and loss --nightmares of what almost was swallows up the days. But they stay nightmares now, wispy and half-alive, and the world's too small in all the right ways. A single flower, a touch, a smile, all the simple honest joys each moment brings. And when the nights loom large and memories burn against the sky, they focus on each other, on the bits of home that they had never lost. And it's enough.
Draft 3
Wordcount: 100 WIP
Time mends some wounds, but nothing wears away the scars. Sometimes the world's still too small and the sky too large; when memories of loves and loss --nightmares of what almost was swallows up the days. But they stay nightmares now, wispy and half-alive, and the world's too small in all the right ways. A single flower, a touch, a smile, all the simple honest joys each moment brings. And when the nights loom large --memories burnt bright against the sky-- they focus on each other, on the bits of home that they'd never truly lost, and it's enough.
This entry was originally posted at http://unforgotten-country.dreamwidth.org/771907.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
For All The Years That Do Us Harm
Draft 1
Wordcount: 152 WIP
There are different kinds of hurt and different kinds of pain when you know the world is so much more than you have ever imagined it could be. And it's hard, if not impossible, to find any solace in knowing that the people you have fought, and suffered, and died to protect will never know even the smallest glimpse of everything you've seen. Everything you've done and stopped yourself from doing, because it was all so much bigger than yourself. And that makes your world so very very small now, against the backdrop of all you did and didn't do. To mow the lawn and pay the bills and push papers across desks and cry until your chest hurts and your eyes burn because it still isn't real and won't ever be real again, because you left real on the other side of a quantum sea and you're never going home again.
Draft 2
Wordcount: 116
There are different kinds of hurt and different kinds of pain when the world you knew was so much more than you'd ever imagined it could be. It's hard, if not impossible, to find solace here-- even knowing the home Atlantis fought, and suffered, and died to protect will never share your nightmares. Because your world's so very small, against the backdrop of all you've done and stopped yourself from doing. It's a shadow of a life and you cry until your chest hurts and your eyes burn, because it still isn't real and won't ever be real again. You left real on the other side of a quantum sea and you're never going home again.
Draft 3
Wordcount: 100
There are different kinds of hurt, different strata of pain -- when the life you've left behind was so much more than you'd ever imagined it could be. And it's hard, if not impossible, finding solace here; even knowing the home Atlantis fought, and suffered, and died to protect will never share your nightmares. Because your world's so very small now, against the backdrop of all you've done and could have done. It's a shadow of a life, and you cry until your chest hurts and your eyes burn, because it still isn't real and won't ever be real again.
~*~*~*~*~
And These Cold Comforts Warm
Draft 1
Wordcount: 106 WIP
Time and tides mend some wounds, but nothing wears away the scars. Sometimes the world is still too small and the sky too large, when memories of loves and loss and nightmares of what almost was swallows up the days. But they stay nightmares now, wispy and half-alive, and the world is too small in all the right ways. A single flower, a touch, a smile, and all the simple honest joys each moment brings. And when the nights loom large and the memories burn against the sky, they focus on each other, on the bits of home that they had never lost. And it's enough.
Draft 2
Wordcount: 100 WIP
Time mends some wounds, but nothing wears away the scars. Sometimes the world's still too small and the sky too large; when memories of loves and loss --nightmares of what almost was swallows up the days. But they stay nightmares now, wispy and half-alive, and the world's too small in all the right ways. A single flower, a touch, a smile, all the simple honest joys each moment brings. And when the nights loom large and memories burn against the sky, they focus on each other, on the bits of home that they had never lost. And it's enough.
Draft 3
Wordcount: 100 WIP
Time mends some wounds, but nothing wears away the scars. Sometimes the world's still too small and the sky too large; when memories of loves and loss --nightmares of what almost was swallows up the days. But they stay nightmares now, wispy and half-alive, and the world's too small in all the right ways. A single flower, a touch, a smile, all the simple honest joys each moment brings. And when the nights loom large --memories burnt bright against the sky-- they focus on each other, on the bits of home that they'd never truly lost, and it's enough.
This entry was originally posted at http://unforgotten-country.dreamwidth.org/771907.html. Please comment there using OpenID.