Runaway (U & I) [Quest & Wander]
Oct 19, 2018 12:20:31 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Oct 19, 2018 12:20:31 GMT -5
There in the madness
Us against the world
And every heartbeat felt like
This is what we deserve
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There’s a lot of things that I didn’t get to do in district six.
Some of the folks in the underground would talk about how they could never focus – they never wanted to – since there was so much of life to enjoy. It was tempting at first, to float around like a leaf caught in a howling wind. They would use this phrase, I’m still finding myself, that they needed time to turn into who they really were. It was warm, like a little coat I could wrap around myself to keep safe. Why didn’t I know what kind of music I would make? Why hadn’t I started to date someone, to give myself to someone else and have my heart broken? I was working on me, I was finding out who I could really become. It was such a profound answer for a sixteen-year-old, so mature, I liked to think.
It’s a crock of shit.
Wilfred told me after sunrise on a cold February morning. He was pale and shivering, and dragged from a cigarette. His gloves covered only half his fingers, utterly useless for warmth. Don’t talk about yourself like you’re lost. You’re not a puppy that wandered off, or a coin under a couch cushion. And I remember being so angry – what did he know about anything? This lanky boy who’s family had given him what he wanted, how people naturally gravitated to him. But all of my words sank under the cold air, and my voice disappeared within my throat. I was never going to get to where I needed without knowing who I'd been was already there.
There’s a little room with a pond, and lily pads, logs – warm like summer hasn’t come and gone. It’s another treat of the capitol, behind a door at the end of a hall, a whole ecosystem teeming with life. Do they flick a switch, and all of it disappears after the weeks that we’re here? I only found it because I was committed to exploring each of the rooms (I had no interest in sparring, or staying in the main area of the training center), and thought it was one of the more ridiculous inventions there seemed to be. There was a little dirt path through a hedge of tall grasses, leading to a wooden dock that stretch out across an expanse of blue water.
I took off my shoes and felt the grass against the heels of my feet. I don’t think I remember the last time I’d walked on fresh grass (was I still a child, chasing Ether and playing hide and seek?). I made a mental note to come back another day so I could light up a spliff and sit underneath the imaginary sun. It was well maintained, though it had an air of being under-utilized. When was the last time that someone had dropped running for their lives for casting a line?
I’d never gone fishing. The brackish little ponds of district six didn’t hold any edible creatures, and we were more interested in creating from the artificial than the natural anyway. Still – I think about how now wasn’t the time to fall back on what I was used to. I might not have had another chance, a thought that all at once terrifying and exhilarating. I really hadn’t ventured to guess what I’d gotten myself into, had I?
There were a set of fishing poles toward the end of the dock, set up with their accouterments. No instructions, of course. Just fishing line, lures, the works for someone that had no idea what any of it meant. I stood with my hands on my hips staring at the lot of it. “Well fuck. How the hell am I supposed to use any of this without any instructions?”
Some of the folks in the underground would talk about how they could never focus – they never wanted to – since there was so much of life to enjoy. It was tempting at first, to float around like a leaf caught in a howling wind. They would use this phrase, I’m still finding myself, that they needed time to turn into who they really were. It was warm, like a little coat I could wrap around myself to keep safe. Why didn’t I know what kind of music I would make? Why hadn’t I started to date someone, to give myself to someone else and have my heart broken? I was working on me, I was finding out who I could really become. It was such a profound answer for a sixteen-year-old, so mature, I liked to think.
It’s a crock of shit.
Wilfred told me after sunrise on a cold February morning. He was pale and shivering, and dragged from a cigarette. His gloves covered only half his fingers, utterly useless for warmth. Don’t talk about yourself like you’re lost. You’re not a puppy that wandered off, or a coin under a couch cushion. And I remember being so angry – what did he know about anything? This lanky boy who’s family had given him what he wanted, how people naturally gravitated to him. But all of my words sank under the cold air, and my voice disappeared within my throat. I was never going to get to where I needed without knowing who I'd been was already there.
There’s a little room with a pond, and lily pads, logs – warm like summer hasn’t come and gone. It’s another treat of the capitol, behind a door at the end of a hall, a whole ecosystem teeming with life. Do they flick a switch, and all of it disappears after the weeks that we’re here? I only found it because I was committed to exploring each of the rooms (I had no interest in sparring, or staying in the main area of the training center), and thought it was one of the more ridiculous inventions there seemed to be. There was a little dirt path through a hedge of tall grasses, leading to a wooden dock that stretch out across an expanse of blue water.
I took off my shoes and felt the grass against the heels of my feet. I don’t think I remember the last time I’d walked on fresh grass (was I still a child, chasing Ether and playing hide and seek?). I made a mental note to come back another day so I could light up a spliff and sit underneath the imaginary sun. It was well maintained, though it had an air of being under-utilized. When was the last time that someone had dropped running for their lives for casting a line?
I’d never gone fishing. The brackish little ponds of district six didn’t hold any edible creatures, and we were more interested in creating from the artificial than the natural anyway. Still – I think about how now wasn’t the time to fall back on what I was used to. I might not have had another chance, a thought that all at once terrifying and exhilarating. I really hadn’t ventured to guess what I’d gotten myself into, had I?
There were a set of fishing poles toward the end of the dock, set up with their accouterments. No instructions, of course. Just fishing line, lures, the works for someone that had no idea what any of it meant. I stood with my hands on my hips staring at the lot of it. “Well fuck. How the hell am I supposed to use any of this without any instructions?”
tag: WT! words: 639 notes: :eyes:
