let me {look at the sun} .//. rochelle twins

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eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris
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Pronouns: he/him
last seen Nov 5, 2024 17:25:59 GMT -5

let me {look at the sun} .//. rochelle twins Mar 29, 2013 11:13:25 GMT -5

Post by eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris on Mar 29, 2013 11:13:25 GMT -5

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summer rochelle

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so you're feeling tied up to a sense of control
and making decisions you think are your own
you are a stranger here, why have you come?
why have you come, lift me higher, let me look at the sun

Imperfection is like a plague, infecting one person and then swarming across the land and ravaging everything in its path.

I like to think back to a time when things were truly perfect in the Rochelle household. When two little girls played dolls in the corner and were completely oblivious to their middle-class status and threw their cares and worries to the wind. They'd smile and laugh, and they'd raise their voices in high pitched squeals of delight. However, they were just raising themselves up to fall. Because, no matter what people tell you, no sisters stay that close for long.

As one began to develop a blue fire in her veins that was colder than any ice, the other developed a soul as fragile as a sun-ripened vegetable and an outer-shell as delicate as a petal. They tried to get along, only squabbling here and there. But, when a sledgehammer comes and strikes you down, you tend to falter and crack. And in the case of the two girls, they were both under the aim of a massive hammer.

The one with the blue fire broke first; trudging through the door one day with twigs in her hair and even more anger surging through her veins. The slightest noise would send her into a fury, and there was not a single person who could help her cope with the problem that she refused to tell to a single soul. She didn't even tell her gentle sister who deeply cared for her. Instead, she used her sister as a punching bag; releasing the anger in her soul that wanted to spew out and aiming it at the fragile girl.

Therefore, the one with the fragile soul broke because of the first one. Everyday there was a new insult, everyday there was a new venomous remark or stinging statement-- everyday there was something that pounded on her surface until her porcelain shell cracked.

[/color] But, instead of anger leaking out of her soul, fragility did instead. The words of her sister had broke her and scarred her, turning her into a shattered girl who could never be anything but imperfectly perfect.

Sometimes it pains me when I realize that one of those girls is me; the one with the hands that grasp at perfection.[/color] Still, though I was no walking form of settled emotions and happy thoughts, I spent my days trying to cleanse my family of the imperfection my sister had sadly brought in.

I tried desperately to help my sister, but all she rewarded me with was loud screams and shoves, which usually resulted in me falling into something and going into a fit as the mess caused me to freak. It hurt knowing she wouldn't let me in; knowing that she didn't care that it was her fault that I shattered.[/color] But, really, what was there that I could do other than curl up at night and try to stop imperfect tears from sliding down my cheeks?

Today, however, I spent my free time washing the dishes after eating the annual morning breakfast I had prepared with gentle hands. I had always enjoyed cleaning, for it in itself was a purification process. As I scrubbed on a rather nasty stain on the last plate, the front door swung open to reveal Wynter in all of her fiery and icy pride.

I looked back at her for one quick moment, before raising a 'brow and turning back to the plate in my hands. "Wynter? Where have you been? You missed breakfast," I stated as my hands managed to loosen the stain on the plate. I turned slightly and shot Wynter a warm smile. "It's probably cold by now, but I saved you a plate, okay?"

I then prepared myself to ask for something that I knew was just going to cause her to shrug her shoulders or yell at me or storm off without a word, but I wanted to hope that today would be different. Finishing up on the plate, I laid it down in the drainer with a silver clank.

"Would you like me to sit and talk with you while you eat? Y'know, act like the twin sisters we are?"[/blockquote][/justify]

who, who are you really?
and where are you going?
i've got nothing left to prove
'cause i've got nothing left to lose

( c o m m e n t s / o t h e r )

Thanks for the graphics/layout, Zoe! I hope you, and any thread stalkers, like this post! I'm actually rather proud of it, I think!

Like, seriously, look back at Summer's bio and then glance at this... whoa.

Anyhow, reply whenever you get the chance! ^^ I'm so excited that we finally get to thread, and I know your post will be amazing!<3

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now you're moving on and you say you're alone
suspicious that this string is moving your bones
we are the fire, we see how they run
see how they run, lift me higher, let me look at the sun

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Last Edit: Apr 22, 2013 16:59:47 GMT -5 by eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris

all my girls got their lace and their crimes.

✨ zozo.
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last seen Nov 3, 2024 19:46:04 GMT -5

bloomtodeath

let me {look at the sun} .//. rochelle twins Apr 18, 2013 2:27:16 GMT -5

Post by ✨ zozo. on Apr 18, 2013 2:27:16 GMT -5

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wynter rochelle

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Run.

Run from your thoughts that hang in the air with the sounds of your feet pounding the ground (like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode

[/b])[/i] and run from your cares and worries. Run from your past self that plagues you with embarrassment [/color](little girls so alike holding hands as they walk down the street or is their only one girl and her reflection?)[/i] Run from the expectations that everybody has of you as they lag behind, grasping at nothing but aiming for your hair. (You remember getting so angry once that you lashed out at someone you once held expectations for and ended up with a clump of hair in your hands and tears running down her pink cheeks - though the rivulets of salt mirrored on her reflection, too. Her reflection tried to choke out "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" but all that came in it's place was a snarl as she marched away from the mirror and out of the little girl's sight.[/i][/color]) Run from everything that haunts you and run from everything that you can't keep holding on to.

There is a permanent restlessness within you. It lies beneath your skin and hides in the crevices of your bones and drives your body forward. Sometimes, you want to carve it out of your system and live so pathetically peaceful - but you are nothing without drive to keep you going.[/i] And the girl behind the glass cannot understand this element in you, in her, in what you used to call us. Instead, she sees it as an imperfection. She wants to hack at it, rip it out, clean and iron and press it until it no longer exists (but how can you remove something that is invisible to the eye of the beholder?)[/i] [/color]and make you both normal again. But normal is something you can never get back - and by you, you mean only you. (But sometimes you mean both yourself, the sad sad girl in the mirror and the happy, happy girl who smiles back at you.) Both so perpetually broken that it is impossible to repair either of you. You shattered the glass long ago - both of you[/i][/color], though you were too blinded by the sun to see the shattered pieces.

That is something invisible that you can never remove.

So you run. Because running away is easier than facing everything at once in a terrifying onslaught of self-realisation. You refuse to see everything lain out in front of you (how your sister loves you and secretly you love your sister too, but it's just easier to blame somebody else for everything than have all the fingers pointed at you.)[/i][/color] Point a finger at someone and you've got three pointing back, but if you take those fingers and slap them around the head of a training dummy or your reflection's head, that equation becomes irrelevant. Everything is irrelevant when it comes to Summer.[/i] [/color]And it's not as if hurting her is a way of showing your affection, it's a way of telling her that you wouldn't be the broken one had it not been for her. But we all beg to differ - even you.[/i][/color]

Running away from all of your problems only to direct yourself to a fate in which you face the cause of them all may look like to most that you're running in circles, but since when have you ever cared what everyone else sees? A freakshow, but balanced out to be normal enough with an even freakier version of you displayed on the other scale.[/i] [/color]So as you sail through the morning air, past Peacekeepers and citizens and Capitol posters declaring the glory of victory and discipline (things you'd like to think you have but are certain you can gain), you think about things. Running always gave you a break from things, but they always seem to sneak their way back into your head. With your earphones in and the music of silence to drown everyone else out, you run. And you think, about how you are the rain and she is the sun and that the two almost never see the light of day together without causing chaos.[/i][/color] You want to try and see things her way, but everything about her makes you tick, tick, tick, tick[/b] and off goes the timer, counting down the seconds before you erupt and the shattered pieces of glass you once hoped to pick up dissolve into dust.

Disintegrating, you step into your home and end up where you started, completing the circle once more. Marching up to the kitchen, you think some more (thinking is not good for you, because all it does is make you realise things, and realising is no good either because then you get angry.)[/i] [/color]This routine is constant, never-ending. And you are the only ones to blame for it.[/i][/color]

"Wynter? Where have you been? You missed breakfast." The reflection breaks the surface and steps into your side of the glass, acting as if she cares. (But she does.) And you want to tell her that you've been running, and thinking, and that those two aren't necessarily a good combination but it blanks out the tick, tick, tick, tick[/b] that haunts you in uncertainty. But it does smell good, and she probably woke up earlier than you to make it, trying to turn it into a peace offering (you're way past peace, but the thought would be touching if you could bring yourself to care.)[/i] [/color]All she does is try. And you do the complete opposite.

"It's probably cold by now, but I saved you a plate, okay?" You want to say thank you, you want to turn yourself into a true reflection and smile back, beam with pride and a sense of effort. And you would of, too - had she not started off the count down once more.[/i] [/color]You'd turn in your own reflection to stop this torture. Maybe if you push her away enough, it won't hurt to do so should the miraculous time come to make a deal with the devil.

"Would you like me to sit and talk with you while you eat? Y'know, act like the twin sisters we are?" she asks - begs of you - and how badly you want to say yes. It could be easier, you know. Letting go. Yet the continuous hammering of her fault her fault her fault[/b] [/i]will not cease.

And perhaps, it never will.

[/color]"If I wanted," you begin, pausing to violently shove a mouthful of cold food into your mouth (she hates it when you don't use manners) "to eat with my pathetic reflection, I'd sit in front of a mirror. At least she doesn't whine at me and shuts the hell up when I want her to."

You are the rain that falls from the sky and she is the light that follows, and for once, you should let yourself look at the sun. [/justify]

alarms will ring for eternity
the waves will break every chain on me
so help my lifeless frame to breathe
with all the blood i lost with you
it drowns the love i thought i knew

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Last Edit: Apr 19, 2013 3:34:35 GMT -5 by ✨ zozo.

“and men said that the blood of the stars flowed in her veins.”