|Thoughts of an Angel: No One Can Hurt Me
Author: rinnyheartillyizawesome PM
Thoughts of an angel: "I don't want to feel pain. I don't want to feel anything."Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Drama - Rinoa H. & Squall L. - Words: 839 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 12-02-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8759306
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I sit in bed and wonder sometimes. Not wonder, but somewhat wander into this dark cave in the back of my mind. It's cold there but somehow I manage to find the one place that is warm. I keep walking and I come across a fire, so I sit in front of it. And you're there. Your eyes look to me and I feel infinite...
"Are you cold?"
The first thing I wander (not wonder) is if you are cold. Always less concerned with myself than others - it is how I am. So I shake my head and refuse your leather jacket. Placing it beside me anyways. My eyes gaze into the intensity that is the fire. It's bright and the flames begin to dance together in a medley of yellow, orange, and at it's very root, red. The symbolic entities within that fire appeal to me like the stars in the night sky in which the first time you see them. As a child, you point, in awe of the tiny fragments of gas that make up those 'stars' that we draw in a misconstrued shape that, in real life, stars look nothing like. But in life, we need to give things a title and a shape and a color just so we can comprehend what it truly is.
It is complete and utter bullshit. The fire, I mean. Technically, the hottest flames are almost white due to the chemical composition changing at a higher heat. For some reason, the fire is becoming less red, more yellow, and the orange is somehow dancing to the tips. How is this insubstantial fire keeping me warm in this cave in the back of my mind?
Another question, "How are you?"
Too many melodies begin to shriek and the fire begins. And my head begins to hurt and I reach in my pocket to take a pill. They're not there and I begin to panic.
"Do you want my jacket?"
"No," I snap, "I don't want your goddamned jacket. I don't want you. I don't need you to help me. I can help myself."
The words left my mouth in a slur of language that I had no idea I could even speak. Hate. Anger. Jealousy.
And fear. So much fear.
"Just take the jacket," you whispered, moving closer to me like I was some kind of wild animal. The warm coat wrapped around me and I divulged into your scent of cologne and cigarette smoke. It relaxed me.
"You're happier without me..." I whisper, wandering, "You're so much happier. You don't think I see it, do you? You smile more. Yet those smiles are rarely produced by me. And I know she makes you happy...but does she make you happier than me?"
Your reply is instantaneous, "No one could take your place."
"But you don't know that," I fight. I notice the flames are beginning to change color as I become warmer. There is more orange... "Someone could easily take my place, capture your heart, take you away from me. You could find someone else."
"Why do you worry?"
"I love you too much."
And we're silent for a couple minutes. Pure silence. I can hear the water trickling in the depths of the cave that somehow can manage to hold up a flame regardless of the cold. And yet, you are fine. You have a thick skin. While I was being wounded by the depths of the iced ocean, you were at the top offering me your hand, unaffected and warm; your arms were welcoming to me, holding me tight. Telling me it would be alright...
"Please don't cry."
But it was too late. I had lost you. And I didn't know how to get you back.
"I'll always be yours."
I shook my head. It's bullshit.
"I love you."
And the flames danced higher as they became so blue they were almost white. I wanted to scream, but my lungs were not being lungs, they were deflated bags that caused me to barely breathe. Throat closing, too tight to speak or even manage a sound. And my heart is racing because I can't suck in any form of oxygen. So I grab your hand, and you hold me, letting me cry.
But before I cry, I scream.
Just so you know how much you are fucking killing me.
Yet your arms are still there, holding me tight, breathing into me. Our lips attached. My nose is touching your cheek, my hands drop to my sides and you take over, holding me as close as you can while my tears mangle in between our lips. When you taste them, you hold me closer, but I can't kiss you anymore because it just hurts far too much. I pull away and I begin to wander again, running as far away as possible.
I don't want to feel pain. I don't want to feel anything.
Especially if it's inflicted by you.
I prefer being alone.
No one can hurt me.