Per Se, Spirita Incondita

[AbstractTraitorHero]

My Eye Envisions It.

It's silly, that you run through me.

I don't really get it, but when I think of the future, even a little. I think of you, in it, marching, moving, demanding, of warm pancakes & of gifts that make me feel so...so.

A l i v e.

I'd lie for you, because I want them to keep coming. Those gifts, the moments of you in my little red room, silly. Raw, wrong, distorted & different like me. I'd be sad, if anything we're to happen.

I'd be sad if I die, saying the wrong words. Not being smart enough, not knowing the words that need to be said. To get around things, to win, to make another believe me. I don't care what I say, what I have to say, if I have to be dishonest or honest.

...I like flutes, I hope my cello can play along with them, forever & ever, till the strings break.

[AbstractTraitorHero]

Sometimes, things just happen.
The strings play & I envision a future. I feel this beat burning in me, in tandem with my blood. With the pulse of a phantom sensation that I don't really understand in a world that I don't really understand.

I stare in the mirror & increasingly, I see someone else. I see Mom & I see Father. I see myself as an intermingling of ideals, that I only pretended to understand. It's silly, that I'm fifteen now, that I'm still alive. 

I've felt so.

N U M B

Yet, like a fire. These moments of kindling burn in me, I stare into others eyes, be it human, goblin or even giant & part of me realizes. I'm just not there compared to them. I'm like a weight, throwing itself into the fire to feel. This kindling, that makes me wander into a demonic fortress for the CHANCE of an encounter, that can only end poorly.

This walking to an island that I knew would dislike me, potentially try to kill me deep down. Whether Drakonia or a Crescent. I can't stop it, the fact that deep inside something desperately begs to ignite. This kindling when my strings nearly break.

I stutter over my words, I feel my right hand going numb. I'm poisoning myself to death, aren't I? Battering myself, yet I'm stuck. People offer me that aid, but part of me worries. As I think more, as I read more, as I grow & my blood pulses?

If I accept it? If I accept that aid, take a radical change, can finally know how you all feel. That I'll be changed forever, that it will have always been my fault for being this way. That I could have forced myself to be different that you all keep saying to keep trying and if I had just tried hard enough. I'd be fixed, I'd have never seen that disconnect, not be trapped when I look into another's eyes & see it.

I'm missing something.
I'm missing something important.
I'm missing something that makes me a person, that was the entire point.

I want to change, but I also don't. I want to keep stringing along till I break, yet some part of me wants to keep going. Wants to resist that desire, to lunge, to feel alive, so I can actually STAY around. Deep down, some part of me wonders.

If you removed my skin. Ripped away my muscles, ground me down to just the spirit. Would it be seen as a person's or would I just be a?

W I S P

Never worthy of that title, of Person.