scez.
07-09-2008, 08:56 PM
A short story i wrote the other night. Read it, and give your opion. Feel free to edit, or suggest, ideas?
[I wont claim anything as mine, i'll always reference you. In hope you'll do the same]
I’ve never really seen you, though I see you every day. Almost, every day. Your eyes are the only thing that gives you away; they are the only part of you that conveys something deeper inside you, something more then your eccentric exterior. The window to your soul, the window no one ever looks into, because you close the blinds and the shutters, and you make them look away. You make them all look away. Your hair is long and dread locked, dried up, and braided with dark coloured ribbons, of dirty purples and blue. I think it could be nice if you let it down sometime, clean and loose around your face, but that’s not you. Long hair is a shield, as if you’re trying to hide behind it, hide parts of you, but you don’t care do you? You have nothing to hide, nothing that needs to be shielded and hidden behind a long curtain of darkness. But you do. You have lots that you keep hidden. That no one finds. That no one looks for. Because you won’t let people look.
I notice when your not there. I notice everything. Almost, everything. I noticed your sketch in class one day, you were sitting in front and to the side of me, I could see it over your shoulder, you weren’t trying to hide it, you have nothing to hide. It was a bird in a cage. The cage wasn’t made of metal or wire, the cage was made of marble, of bones, and stone. But the cage was open. The bird was free but it was caged. It didn’t understand it then. You wouldn’t have told me if I asked. I told you I liked it, I said you had talent. You walked away from me and through it in the nearest bin, a rejected crumpled ball, that wasn’t good enough, because someone else thought it was. And it felt as if you through away me, a rejected crumpled ball, that wasn’t good enough, though I never thought I was. I picked it up; I have it on my wall. Is that weird? Do you think it’s weird? Do you think I’m weird? Do you think about me at all? I tore at my head trying to understand. A free bird, in a cage made of bone. A cage made of stone, with no door. I didn’t understand it, I didn’t understand you. I do now. I do now.
I look at you and see freedom. I see something I can never grasp. Almost never. I think that maybe that’s why I’m drawn to you, and maybe that’s why you’re drawn away from everyone and everyone from you. I am not drawn away. I am pushed. Pushed by your freedom. You represent freedom to me, in a different way then norm though, I don’t see open expression, I don’t see open plains, or wide skies on which you fly. I don’t see endless space. And I don’t see vast spaces of nothing. The doors are always closed on you. No one really directs talk at you, or asks you questions, yet they wouldn’t tease or torment you. They wouldn’t dare. It’s like an unspoken code, that you exist and are to be left that way. I think that’s why your freedom. No one looks your way. You won’t let them look. You won’t let them see. You won’t let me in. And in that you are free. But I don’t think it’s that simple. I think that you in a way aren’t free, you are caged inside the openness of the world. The sky doesn’t cover, it swallows. There is freedom yes, on the outside, the part that you cannot hide. The part that you can hide, that you do, there is the cage. The bird is you.
I told you that, one day at school. I wanted to, but I didn’t. Almost, didn’t. It came up before I could stop it, and you reacted before you could stop it. The bird is you, I said, quietly, but so you could hear. You looked at me, straight into my eyes, nodded once, and said, no end. And time and place ceased. Everyone, thing and it ceased to exist. The orbit ceased. And I was strangely there. I was more there then I had ever been, and you had already looked away and gone. No end. I didn’t even have to think, I thought I understood, the bird was the key, the bird is you. You are the bird, the world is your cage, and there is no end. Eternity has no end, therefore stop digging. No end.
I didn’t want to speak to you again. I didn’t want to approach you. Almost, didn’t. So I wrote a note, an almost letter and next to it I drew the bird, I drew you. I wrote;
Bird,
No end.
I understand.
Eternity has no end, therefore stop digging.
The cage is open Bird,
Fly away.
I understand.
And you returned the note, the almost letter, the piece of myself back, you put it by my bag at the end of one class. You wouldn’t do it in person. I would though. You wrote next to my scrawl, you finished the sentence. You wrote;
Eternity has no end, therefore stop digging. Stop digging. Stop digging. Stop digging.
I wondered if you were compulsive. I wondered what you meant by that. Then I noticed the bird, I noticed the pencil rendition of you. Your eye was now the symbol of eternity, the snake eating its tail. And so we returned to the dark ages. We sent letters to one another. We wrote down our souls. I drew you, and you edited. You drew meanings that I couldn’t quite grasp; only once did you explain. I tried to understand. Sometimes your words got fewer. Sometimes all you wrote was no end. I called you Bird, you didn’t call me anything. I didn’t have a name, I never signed my name. I was the nothing of us. And then one day, you explained.
No End,
Black and white is not straightforward. It is a reference used often as a means to simplify things. If I were to write myself in black and white it would take a life time. And yet I drew myself in black and white. And I rid myself of it. And you found it. I gave myself, without meaning it, at all, to you. The cage is inside me. You understand that. The bird is me. You understand that. The cage is not however metal, this you don’t understand. This you won’t understand without this, without me. Marble and bone and stone, represent death and knowledge and lies. Marble is death, because it will always survive. Marble is a strong rock, and in death we survive. The cage will never die, it will never leave. The bird is always caged. Bone, is knowledge, it is the structure and picture of our form, the protector of our brains, and therefore our knowledge, our security, our power. Power is breakable, as are bones; knowledge however is everlasting, as are bones. Stone is a single word resembling the cliché, written in stone, finality and truth, hence also the lies. There is no beginning to this cage, and no end to it. It will always remain.
No End.
It was only ever once a quote. All the other times I wrote it down; I wrote it as a name. A symbol of what you are. If I am Bird, then you are No End. I am Freedom, you are Eternity.
I’ve never really seen you, though I see you every day. Almost, every day. You exposed to much of yourself to me in that letter. And you never wrote back. You let someone in. You opened your window and filled your lungs with clean air. They’ll never look at you again. They’ll never try, they never did. You won’t let them, you wouldn’t let them. There is one difference though. There’s now someone sitting beside you. Someone else who is different, who hides their eyes and doesn’t talk anymore and doesn’t let people look, and they don’t try. By they don’t leave her alone either. They’ll never leave me alone. I’m the girl that will always sit beside you, some days we’ll talk. Some days we’ll draw together. But they’ll always torment, and tease, they’ll throw every ounce of self hate and issue into my being, I’m the easy target now, you even painted a bull’s eye on my forehead one day. I laughed at myself, at them, at you, at the world. And the world laughed at me. I still have your picture, but it’s been edited. The cage around you has a door now. I am your door. You shut your cage, but you shut me in. And now neither of us can get out. But neither of us will let the other in. Bird and No End. Everything and Nothing.
And you said one day, It’s the end, No End.
[I wont claim anything as mine, i'll always reference you. In hope you'll do the same]
I’ve never really seen you, though I see you every day. Almost, every day. Your eyes are the only thing that gives you away; they are the only part of you that conveys something deeper inside you, something more then your eccentric exterior. The window to your soul, the window no one ever looks into, because you close the blinds and the shutters, and you make them look away. You make them all look away. Your hair is long and dread locked, dried up, and braided with dark coloured ribbons, of dirty purples and blue. I think it could be nice if you let it down sometime, clean and loose around your face, but that’s not you. Long hair is a shield, as if you’re trying to hide behind it, hide parts of you, but you don’t care do you? You have nothing to hide, nothing that needs to be shielded and hidden behind a long curtain of darkness. But you do. You have lots that you keep hidden. That no one finds. That no one looks for. Because you won’t let people look.
I notice when your not there. I notice everything. Almost, everything. I noticed your sketch in class one day, you were sitting in front and to the side of me, I could see it over your shoulder, you weren’t trying to hide it, you have nothing to hide. It was a bird in a cage. The cage wasn’t made of metal or wire, the cage was made of marble, of bones, and stone. But the cage was open. The bird was free but it was caged. It didn’t understand it then. You wouldn’t have told me if I asked. I told you I liked it, I said you had talent. You walked away from me and through it in the nearest bin, a rejected crumpled ball, that wasn’t good enough, because someone else thought it was. And it felt as if you through away me, a rejected crumpled ball, that wasn’t good enough, though I never thought I was. I picked it up; I have it on my wall. Is that weird? Do you think it’s weird? Do you think I’m weird? Do you think about me at all? I tore at my head trying to understand. A free bird, in a cage made of bone. A cage made of stone, with no door. I didn’t understand it, I didn’t understand you. I do now. I do now.
I look at you and see freedom. I see something I can never grasp. Almost never. I think that maybe that’s why I’m drawn to you, and maybe that’s why you’re drawn away from everyone and everyone from you. I am not drawn away. I am pushed. Pushed by your freedom. You represent freedom to me, in a different way then norm though, I don’t see open expression, I don’t see open plains, or wide skies on which you fly. I don’t see endless space. And I don’t see vast spaces of nothing. The doors are always closed on you. No one really directs talk at you, or asks you questions, yet they wouldn’t tease or torment you. They wouldn’t dare. It’s like an unspoken code, that you exist and are to be left that way. I think that’s why your freedom. No one looks your way. You won’t let them look. You won’t let them see. You won’t let me in. And in that you are free. But I don’t think it’s that simple. I think that you in a way aren’t free, you are caged inside the openness of the world. The sky doesn’t cover, it swallows. There is freedom yes, on the outside, the part that you cannot hide. The part that you can hide, that you do, there is the cage. The bird is you.
I told you that, one day at school. I wanted to, but I didn’t. Almost, didn’t. It came up before I could stop it, and you reacted before you could stop it. The bird is you, I said, quietly, but so you could hear. You looked at me, straight into my eyes, nodded once, and said, no end. And time and place ceased. Everyone, thing and it ceased to exist. The orbit ceased. And I was strangely there. I was more there then I had ever been, and you had already looked away and gone. No end. I didn’t even have to think, I thought I understood, the bird was the key, the bird is you. You are the bird, the world is your cage, and there is no end. Eternity has no end, therefore stop digging. No end.
I didn’t want to speak to you again. I didn’t want to approach you. Almost, didn’t. So I wrote a note, an almost letter and next to it I drew the bird, I drew you. I wrote;
Bird,
No end.
I understand.
Eternity has no end, therefore stop digging.
The cage is open Bird,
Fly away.
I understand.
And you returned the note, the almost letter, the piece of myself back, you put it by my bag at the end of one class. You wouldn’t do it in person. I would though. You wrote next to my scrawl, you finished the sentence. You wrote;
Eternity has no end, therefore stop digging. Stop digging. Stop digging. Stop digging.
I wondered if you were compulsive. I wondered what you meant by that. Then I noticed the bird, I noticed the pencil rendition of you. Your eye was now the symbol of eternity, the snake eating its tail. And so we returned to the dark ages. We sent letters to one another. We wrote down our souls. I drew you, and you edited. You drew meanings that I couldn’t quite grasp; only once did you explain. I tried to understand. Sometimes your words got fewer. Sometimes all you wrote was no end. I called you Bird, you didn’t call me anything. I didn’t have a name, I never signed my name. I was the nothing of us. And then one day, you explained.
No End,
Black and white is not straightforward. It is a reference used often as a means to simplify things. If I were to write myself in black and white it would take a life time. And yet I drew myself in black and white. And I rid myself of it. And you found it. I gave myself, without meaning it, at all, to you. The cage is inside me. You understand that. The bird is me. You understand that. The cage is not however metal, this you don’t understand. This you won’t understand without this, without me. Marble and bone and stone, represent death and knowledge and lies. Marble is death, because it will always survive. Marble is a strong rock, and in death we survive. The cage will never die, it will never leave. The bird is always caged. Bone, is knowledge, it is the structure and picture of our form, the protector of our brains, and therefore our knowledge, our security, our power. Power is breakable, as are bones; knowledge however is everlasting, as are bones. Stone is a single word resembling the cliché, written in stone, finality and truth, hence also the lies. There is no beginning to this cage, and no end to it. It will always remain.
No End.
It was only ever once a quote. All the other times I wrote it down; I wrote it as a name. A symbol of what you are. If I am Bird, then you are No End. I am Freedom, you are Eternity.
I’ve never really seen you, though I see you every day. Almost, every day. You exposed to much of yourself to me in that letter. And you never wrote back. You let someone in. You opened your window and filled your lungs with clean air. They’ll never look at you again. They’ll never try, they never did. You won’t let them, you wouldn’t let them. There is one difference though. There’s now someone sitting beside you. Someone else who is different, who hides their eyes and doesn’t talk anymore and doesn’t let people look, and they don’t try. By they don’t leave her alone either. They’ll never leave me alone. I’m the girl that will always sit beside you, some days we’ll talk. Some days we’ll draw together. But they’ll always torment, and tease, they’ll throw every ounce of self hate and issue into my being, I’m the easy target now, you even painted a bull’s eye on my forehead one day. I laughed at myself, at them, at you, at the world. And the world laughed at me. I still have your picture, but it’s been edited. The cage around you has a door now. I am your door. You shut your cage, but you shut me in. And now neither of us can get out. But neither of us will let the other in. Bird and No End. Everything and Nothing.
And you said one day, It’s the end, No End.