(no subject)
He struck the last note hard. Hairs broke on his bow, which needed to be re-haired anyways. The audience burst into applause. Stand, turn, bow, walk off stage. Applause continued booming through the auditorium. Walk out turn bow again, turn walk off stage. Time to face the audience.
"Wow! You guys were great!" "That was phenomenal!" "That was absolutely marvelous!" "Great job!" Smile, and walk by. That's all he needed to do. These people didn't understand the pain he was feeling. They didn't understand the rage that comes from eternal sadness. His fuel for his performance onstage. He didn't respect himself to allow any feelings of joy or happiness about the performance. Even though he generously gave respect for the other members of the quartet.
Long walk back home alone. Silence. Enjoyably without the excess noise of other people. All there was was nice calm silence, and the songs streaming from his mp3 player. There was no "Me" time anymore for him. All that was taken away from him just like his respect for himself and hope.
Tired. All he wanted was sleep, but other tasks needed to be done first.
Sleep finally came too late, but his sleep was restless and full of nightmares anyways. It didn't matter. It was just annoying to wake up covered in sweat and smelling like a dog. But that was the value of his life wasn't it? About as worthless as any stray on the streets.
Hungry too. But hunger was just a pain in his stomach. It can be ignored for another while.
He found it hard to concentrate in class. It just didn't seem possible. Didn't seem to matter. He fails at everything anyways.
Pain shot up through his arm when he tried to lift objects, and through his leg with each step. Exhausted. But he had to keep going.
"Wow! You guys were great!" "That was phenomenal!" "That was absolutely marvelous!" "Great job!" Smile, and walk by. That's all he needed to do. These people didn't understand the pain he was feeling. They didn't understand the rage that comes from eternal sadness. His fuel for his performance onstage. He didn't respect himself to allow any feelings of joy or happiness about the performance. Even though he generously gave respect for the other members of the quartet.
Long walk back home alone. Silence. Enjoyably without the excess noise of other people. All there was was nice calm silence, and the songs streaming from his mp3 player. There was no "Me" time anymore for him. All that was taken away from him just like his respect for himself and hope.
Tired. All he wanted was sleep, but other tasks needed to be done first.
Sleep finally came too late, but his sleep was restless and full of nightmares anyways. It didn't matter. It was just annoying to wake up covered in sweat and smelling like a dog. But that was the value of his life wasn't it? About as worthless as any stray on the streets.
Hungry too. But hunger was just a pain in his stomach. It can be ignored for another while.
He found it hard to concentrate in class. It just didn't seem possible. Didn't seem to matter. He fails at everything anyways.
Pain shot up through his arm when he tried to lift objects, and through his leg with each step. Exhausted. But he had to keep going.