Her eyesight's bleary, at best, by this point, but she can still see the bubbles.  Endless, infinite, blankets - like a quilt - over her vision of bubbles, little ones, big ones.  And the murky blue.  The irritating, polluted, green-yellow murky streaks, and the even more annoying brown and black smudges threatening to overtake the rest of her vision.  They've already managed to frame her vision, messily, like a child drawing outside of the lines.

Suffocating is a bitch.

That's the first real complaint her mind puts forward, once her lungs begin not just to burn but ache as well, pulling like they want to unfurl right out of her ribcage.  For a second, or maybe forever, her mind dwells listlessly, lethargically, on how the image of her lungs expanding in streamers straight from her chest would look, if the blood from them wouldn't obscure the sight.  Would she have to drain herself of blood first?

And then the bubbles are gone.  There's nothing left to expel and this jerks her back to where she is, because next is inhaling the water, and the feeling of this makes her entire body flinch in shock.  Her sight almost clears for one horrible second, too terrible to enjoy because she feels like the water is acid, it's in places it shouldn't be, and this is by far the worst death she's had yet.

Why is it she has to be aware, completely aware, for every shred of these, again? 

She wanted to give up for a second, but a deeper, stronger portion of her took over.  The film of humanity recedes into the embrace of some higher being, cradled in the immense, empathic consciousness now.  All is well, and she stays, feels everything once again.

Because that's what it means to be a Shinigami, it whispers to her, so softly that it barely permeates the comfortable dim darkness it has wrapped her sight in as the body begins to give, over halfway there now.  An angel of death has to be with the soul, for every step.  Even if the mind is unconscious, they stay with the soul, sooth it and embrace it through every step, from beginning to end. 

And this wasn't the worst, not really.  Because the next one to come, she knew, would be the fast death.  The ones that are immediate, although there is no such thing.  Because even a single moment could last for eternity, to the soul of the deceasing, anyway.  It was the death most of the candidates for Angel of Death dropped out on.  There was something worse, terrifying, of having to go through it all so quickly.  The soul and mind were in shock, felt everything.  Hesitate from the pain for a second, and it meant you weren't there for the soul for something crucial. 

No one ever lied about the job being easy.

She had to be this, though.  She wanted to be there for the fading souls, when people could feel all hope fading, when they shied away from the biggest change, the scariest step they would ever take.  There was nothing comparable to death.  Not anywhere was there something that could be called similar, not really.  Because death permeated everything.  It was real for everything, and unknown to everyone but God and the few things that had experienced it over and over.  Even the Angels of Death did not know it, they only knew how it felt, had minimal knowledge of the before and after.  Flimsy, first-hand experience, merely a single experience of both sides, but expertise of the passing itself.  But they were necessary, because there was nothing that escaped death, not even the Universe itself. 

Of course, God was not everything.  He was nothing, in a way, and yet in anything, every shred of everything. 

And now came the end.  This was difficult, alone, but doing it by herself was much worse than going through it for another being.  It was the perfect training.  Hard to be there for yourself, much easier to be there for another when you'd gone through every way of dying that there was.  And there were a lot, nowadays, as humans created more and more terrible ways to kill each other. 

But she could get through this.  And then she could be there for all of the ones who had no one, the ones who had loved ones and felt it impossible to ever separate, or the ones too young to understand. 

Because that is what the Angel of Death does.  Shinigami, Angel of Death, Grim reaper, Yama, Charon, Izanami, or even the nameless Slavic women in white, it didn't matter the name.  They are the gate, they are the comforters, the empathic beings, former souls. 

Less than a third of those called to the duty could do it, make it through all the different forms of death and still want to relive them for eternity, until the end of anything.   If anyone was to count, there wouldn't be enough for the job they do.  But time matters little all of them, she knows this already.

There is time enough, in all the worlds, minds, and bodies everywhere, for Death.

So this is my first ficlet with the random word generator Rabid pointed me towards... Hurray!!!

Ficlet of Randomnosity:


( Have at it!!Collapse )

~ Bye!

Yay for drunken Badou and Haine making out and getting down and dirty on Haine's bed!!!

>>>>>>>>>>>

Hmm, so for anyone who has read Stephanie Meyers' Twilight (and her other two books in that series), here's a piece on Jasper and Alice, about Edward's refusal to believe they have souls, and what Alice thinks about his opinion.

>>>>>>>>>>

( Alice's Waking DreamsCollapse )

And then this happened:

I wrote a little more cute/goth/nolita version of it to go along with a cute picture by a girl on deviantart (kmye-chan, she's fabulous):

The patient suffers from nostalgia, imprinted so firmly upon her very self, that it is an intrinsic piece of her soul. 

Dr. Death itself tried to perform a delicate surgery, pulling both into new lives, and yet…

Sir, you’ve failed them on every account, because now she suffers from a nostalgia that rises from the most immense of depths.

Not yet is it a half-life, but she dreams of things she can never find in another person

… and he is still lost, to all but the one who places people anew upon the world.

[ I meant it to be a sort of open poetry but it failed.  I didn't put it up on deviantart cause this whole little thing isn't really anything complete... After that little snippet, I continued and came up with a sort of descriptive paragraph on the same subject... seen below]

She suffers from a case of severe nostalgia.  There is no cure, because it is inspired by events that, as far as her life is concerned, never happened.  That inexplicable something which drives humanity, spurring the race on to new heights, troublesome as it is, feels differently.  The soul… The well of emotions which inspires the brain itself.  It remembers things that may never will have in her past or future happened to her.

... I wanted to pop that in front of the piece in the last entry but I though it wouldn't mesh with the feeling, cause I wrote it with different emotions and the odd and freaked out little Dr. Death thing in mind.  Hmm.  I hate writing stuff that are branches and pieces off of something else.  It feels like I haven't explored that possibility enough until it can stand up on its own.

So I was thinking about this piece I wrote that goes a little like this:

On some days she would feel purposeless, for no reason.  During a day like this, she could close her eyes and almost feel someone hugging her close, an embrace that warned of death or despair in its absence.  A lost feeling would come over her, and each time she paused to consider it images rose inside, scraps of memories and dreams, or thoughts, or all three. 

A deep nostalgia, triggered by scents that came from the wind as it chilled from summer, to autumn, to winter.  Occasionally unexpected, but often on a day in which she felt the dreariness inside her seeping.  But then, the wisps…

Visions of things she never got to experience, passing through her mind.

Kisses, intimate touches that spoke of the ultimate trust.  Edges of fingers trailing softly, grazing over her neck.  Up to her ears, through her hair, and strong thumbs massaging her temples.

Whispers of love, comfort, protection, and there is no need to feel panicked, he will catch her, always, regardless of how far she falls or how long it takes. 

And something within her answers, because she knows there is no one that could stop him, and she understands what she means to him, for once.  She is no longer caught up in how much he means to her, Now, she understands.  And that feeling completes her, she feels completely loved.

But then she comes back to herself, the scenery changes, the music ends, the scent on the wind passes, her grasp on the faded thought dwindles.  Why does she remember things that haven’t happened yet?

There is absolute certainty that those things are hers.  The touches and feelings are so much a part of who she is, was, will be that even though her mind does not remember, her soul is unable to escape the reminiscences…

As her aching heart waits with bated breath for the person she has not met yet.

 

There are so many things that people are never going to get to hear, see, touch, feel, live through!  I never want to forget anything, i want to hold on to everything forever, I want to cling, I want to never make mistakes, I want to live happy, I want to visit as many places as I can and write about all of them!  I want someone to live with me and feel what I feel and know what I think about it all and I want to know what they think about it!

In the end, I live for nothing, but at the same time I live for everything.  And when everything isn't here, and I can't go looking for it, I live for hope, and I wait for the future to happen so that I can grab it when it comes. 

And it's true, but it isn't true, because I forget so much, but I still manage to remember...

I remember spinning through the air on a rope that could break at any second, over a pool of fresh water at a watering hole in Costa Rica.
I remember thinking that I could share music with trees when I was younger, and that every thing, even the houses, were my friends and would protect me if they could when I was little and walking in my neighborhood.
I remember that I was hundreds of superheroes, but usually ones I created. 
I remember when my dogs were pillows, helped me defeat evil feelings and save glorious shapeless beings in my head.
I remember when I got small gifts and thought they were gold.
I remember holding on to millions of small moments, thinking time can never pass on from that spot.
I remember gaping in awe at the sky hundreds and thousands and millions of times
I remember double rainbows in Hawaii, the sight of Maui in the distance, and a sunset with turtles, ocean, and rocks.
I remember always the feeling that no connection with anyone I've ever loved can ever be severed.

And all these things are true no matter what, even if you tell me they aren't and even if something inside me shrinks it never dies, and I know that my living to smile will last so much longer than the moments when I exist to feel pain and sadness and I suffer for ages and ages over the course of a few minutes.

PDS... would Crumley call this living in the moment?

I miss lips trailing over my skin
Comet tails of sparks and
Tingling nerves left in their wake

Except I've never felt that.
All the people I touch dull my senses,
and afterwards I get left behind

a sick guilt, more exp. pts for the siren. 
Fun while it lasts, fun enough, I give nothing.

I feel disturbed, not sickened.  i settle because I can't find the person

who trailed lips over my skin
in my dreams, while I slept.
Where are you now, I miss you

The only one I really want to get to know
And you can't be found

Which sort of matches my karma.  I have the most ironic and sick luck.


And I still
Haven't found
What I'm looking for... is it better to know what you're looking for or to go through live oblivious? 
Am I oblivious as to what I'm looking for, or do I know it exactly... another question that I won't be able to answer until way after I've forgotten it.

(wow this isn't really a poem, just free writing gone awry with a few well-placed gaps)

Sometimes your memories of a place can feel so real, I almost feel my hands skating over the surface of the walls in a picture.  It’s the shock you get when you see something unexpected, coupled with the realization that for some reason that place and time in your past is inexplicably clear and preserved within your mind.  You hold it apart from everything else and cherish it above other things, because it just meant and means that much.  It forms me, even now; Costa Rica, MPUMP Youth, Mission Trip.

 

 

I just wrote this spur of the moment, because I saw a pic on Facebook from a mission trip this summer.  It’s amazing how many experiences you live through thinking: this is it, I will remember this because it’s just sooo important to me.  And then you forget a lot of it.  Well I lived through this and it shaped me every second I was there, and it made me stronger and helped me realize a part of who I was.  And I wasn’t firm in the belief that it was a crucial part of me until just now, when (over four months later) I see this picture and suddenly feel the air on my skin and the surfaces as I plaster the walls of the building we’re putting up.  For a split-second emotions- all my love and pain in knowing the people there, caring for them, and now not seeing them because we’ve all split up to do college or continue with our lives- thicken inside my mind, like a full thundercloud ready to burst into a flood.  And I can let go, because I feel relief about how important it was to me.

And it was silly to worry about something like that anyway.  Whether I remember it or not is irrelevant, because everything shapes you.  And if it really did shape you that much, you remember it, the way I remember this. 

I’m still wearing the necklace I bought for about two bucks in Costa Rica on the 2^nd day there.  I wore it when I rafted the Pacuare River, one of the top three white-water rafting rivers in the world, and then on through the trip, as I repelled down waterfalls, jumped and free-fell out of massive rainforest trees, and helped to put together buildings part of a camp meant to help enrich a rural Costa Rican community.  This is the first time in my life I’ve ever kept something on my body that long, especially my neck.  There have been so many times I’ve just wanted to cut it off and wear a necklace, but I still care too much.  Maybe when I get to see all of these people again at Christmas I’ll feel comfortable letting go, but for now… whenever I feel like I’m losing my sense of self here in this new environment I hold it.  It doesn’t help sometimes, a lot of the time, but it does give me comfort. 

YAY HALLOWEEN!!! I love costumes! But my absolute fav. thing about halloween is the CANDY! I'm a total candy junky... honestly I need hardcore rehab.  The chocolate stuff is good, but I get sick of it fast.  I'm talking pixie stix, and jolly ranchers, and starbursts, and gummy candies, and smarties, and twizzlers, and penny candy!

Hmm... I'm struggling to think of other crazy amazing candies right now...
blow pops, skittles, old-fashioned peppermint sticks, mentos (fruity flav's), crunchy M and M's ( I love these!), sour patch (esp. the watermelon kind), aaaannndd... hm. Oohh... there were always whistle pops!! Those were so awesome.  And the old Spice Girls lolli's. Yum.

^.~
Happy Halloween ya'll