Frostbite in the Frontal Lobe // Ravena
Apr 2, 2011 21:27:44 GMT -5
Post by Vulnerable on Apr 2, 2011 21:27:44 GMT -5
I've got a frostbite in my frontal lobe
I've got no empathy, no sensitivity
Warmth was all he could feel in this precious moment as he walked down the side walk as he usually would on a sunny day. It wasn't warm outside, but there was a warmness on his inside that made him feel as if it was sunny. Was it a feeling of happiness or something of that sort? It was a mystery. But, it did feel like true, pure happiness. A feeling that he usually didn't get without sensing some sort of pain from someone else. What had caused him to become so happy? It may not have shown on his face, but it was there. It had a bit of transparency, it did not show anywhere. It hid like a shadow under a table, behind the table sheets and unable to be seen unless you looked under. In this case, there was nothing to look under. He was filled with it and it didn't disappear. For some reason, he diddn't like the feeling. It was out of the blue and completely random. There was no fun involved with the random, obscure amount of happiness that he had. He hadn't hurt anyone, so what was the point in having happiness if there wasn't any pain around? Nothing to watch, nothing to have a point for. It didn't have a point, and Ezra had a distaste for things without points. He missed the blankness in the short time that he had the feeling of happiness surrounding him, he missed the feeling of being void of any emotion at all. He did not want this ray of sunlight beaming down into him and his core, he could not let him feel this way. His thinking eventually drove it away. The happiness vanished, and for that brief moment, he missed what he didn't like. He snapped back to his senses quickly, though. His rubbed both of his fingers across the sides of his temple, tuning out any feeling of happiness that could come back. His eyes scoured the path in front of him and around the path of the sidewalk, watching the people. Watching them talk, watching them walk, watching them stop to stare.
No one seemed frail enough for him to be talking to them, did they? Oh, how he missed the moments where almost everyone he knew were frail in some way. Some of the words they said when they found out that he was a liar, a schemer, an evil person, and a sadist.. They all rung through his head and made him feel like himself. Like he was doing something right, not like he was doing something wrong. His sense of morality was a bit odd, wasn't it? Knowing that what he did was wrong, but recognizing it as something good because it made him happy and made others miserable. He was the grim reaper of emotion, in every sense of the word. Still, there were some exceptions to the rule that he always hurt people. 'Adel,' He thought, the name making him stop in his tracks and instantaneously think about his life and what he done. It was the one thing he wondered about, the one person besides his family that he had the capacity to like. The one that kept coming back for more, even though he knew Ezra was always up to tricks and schemes to hurt him. Why did he follow him around like a lost puppy? Why did he keep coming back to Ezra? Ezra, at one time considered this to be a pathetic act. But, Adel truly loved Ezra. Ezra never felt anything for him, until he was already gone, out of his life. Or, he thought he was. Adel still came back for him every once and a while, but Ezra treated him with a gentle stature compared to his other victims. He let him off easy every time that he kept crawling back to him. And he was the only one that he had ever felt bad about hurting, the only one that he still truly cared for. Ezra wondered if he should ever try to care about Adel, ever try to have a real relationship with him. But, he didn't think that it would work. Ezra was too sadistic, too cruel, for Adel.
The boy had a cracked heart in a thousand places. He was too weak to be in a relationship after what Ezra had done to him. He was a victim of the highest degree, a person that he hurt so bad that he may never recover from what he did. Ezra cheated over ten times, planning everything out thoroughly. After he broke up with him, Adel would slowly learn about everyone that Ezra had cheated on him with. Ezra would tell him, straight up, why he wasn't good enough when he came back to ask him. He gave him every flaw about why he could never love Adel, why he didn't ever really like him, why he stayed in a relationship with him out of pity. It was cruel enough to do everything in that small list at that point, but it only got worse. Adel would come back, because he still loved Ezra. Ezra would continuously get in and out of relationships with Adel just to hurt him and just because he knew that Adel, or thought that, was stupid enough to want to come back, stupid enough to believe that Ezra could change. And he would just crush his heart again. But, what had really happened was Ezra realized that love was blind. Adel wasn't stupid by any means. If anything, he was a bit smarter than the great Ezra himself. He was a top student in District 8's school, and was one of the most intelligent people that you could ever have met. That's what threw Ezra off. He was smart, but he kept coming back. Did he somehow now have enough sense to stop loving him? The question of if you ever could get rid of love lingered in his body, in his mind, and made him feel bad about what happened, for once in his life. The realization had left him unchanged, though, and he continued on to victimize others. But, he never victimized Adel after that. He couldn't. He didn't have the willpower, for Ezra, deep down inside under his cruel interior and exterior, there was a person down there that loved Adel just as much as Adel loved Ezra. Could Adel see this person? Is that what he was trying to dig out of Ezra? The mission would never be accomplished. Nothing could make Ezra a good person, could it? No, nothing could. He thought about that long and hard after he hurt him, after he crushed his spirit and soul and declared that he was never able to become the person that Adel wanted him to become. He couldn't change himself for another person's sake just because Adel wanted Ezra to love him.
Sad, but true. Finally, Ezra looked around and noticed something. He was on the sidewalk, just standing there for the past five minutes and not paying attention to the world around him. He was still immobile up until this point, and just standing and looking around. All of it, the idea of it, it made him stop in his tracks. Precious time wasted to look for another victim, but it all made him question whether he wanted to continue doing this. Everyone had that shred of innocence that came out now and again. It was Ezra's turn for this to happen, and you could see it all over his body. His body language, his facial expressions. Deep thinking is what he would call it. Metaphorical thinking, thinking about life and how he could change it. Thinking about things that could possibly happen if he were to become this great guy, even if he knew he could never do that. It was just too fun, too amazing to stop himself from inflicting pain on others. But, if it was all that fun and nice for Ezra to do it, why would he sit around and contemplate why he was doing it? Why would he sit around all day and think about one boy, one person's life that he had ruined? 'Is this what love feels like?' Love, the thought made goosebumps form all across his body. He could never experience love. Only love for his family and for himself. But, those were different kinds of love. What was Adel? What was that feeling? It confused him. Confusion was also a new feeling. He always knew what he was going to do, how he was going to deal with it. But he was unprepared for these two new emotions invading his system and making him seem like a whole other person in the entire moment that he stood still. Even in the wind, he didn't waver. He was as solid as a stone statue. That confusion hurt him, it hurt him deep. Like a luna moth's cocoon burying deep into the ground, the hint of love and confusion buried deep into his skin and into his heart. They stood did not waver either. They stayed, and stayed, and after all of that thinking, all of that complying with his mind... He could not drive away the feeling.
"I'm sorry, Adel," He let out, a little whimper soon following after he said those few words that managed to come out of his mouth in those moments that he was frozen like ice. He did not let out any words after that and just stood there. For once, he was the frail one. He was the victim of his own emotions. And they had managed to sabotage him. For once, he knew what it was to feel awful. He knew what it was to feel like he loved someone, he knew what it was like to have his heart ripped away from him and having a hole where his heart used to be. A hole of sadness, of delusion, of confusion, and of love, all mixed in a sweltering pot. It truly didn't feel good. It felt as if you had eaten acid, and slowly waited for it to melt everything on your inside. Like something was eating at you from the inside and was trying to break free from its prison, like you were being asphyxiated by your own words and your own emotion. Truly, it was horror incarnated in its own sick way. A step forward was taken with his shaky legs, that feeling threatening to pull him under and subduing him into a depressing, less mean version of himself with actual feeling. He would not let that happened. Slowly, but surely, he was back on pace, going back down the sidewalk, looking for somewhere to sit so that he could calm himself. He could not find such a seat though, which led him to eventually just sit on the side of the walkway, against the cement, looking at the broken edges of the white shirt that he had on. He never finished this shirt, but he still had it on. Quietly, he'd try and forget about everything he just thought about. He'd try to get rid of the encounter with himself by thinking of the one thing that distracted him, weaving. But he didn't have the supplies to weave. He just sat and thought about it for a while. 'Life is about weaving. It is all about weaving,' He chanted in his mind, thinking about it. Weaving was the only reason he was here. It was the only reason he was alive. It was made for him. It was his everything.
Word Count ; 1956