literature

Escapist

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Literature Text

The world collapsed, quiet, with the closing of her bedroom doors. The pressing silence of her bubble was welcome, but not celebrated. She was too tired.

Everything here was in place and entirely familiar: the curtains that concealed her from examination, the pattern on the rug over the dark tile floor, the armchairs that faced the flagstone hearth, the darkened sconces, the half-made bed, and the one being she didn’t want to hide from. He gave her one look over the work in his lap and nodded in understanding.

She almost seemed to drag herself toward the bed before falling into it, the layers of her cloak billowing around her, weighing her down and keeping her heavily in place. He abandoned whatever he had been doing and folded around her, one more shield, her final layer of protection. She wanted to feel heavy and restrained. She wanted to feel like she wasn’t the one in control.

A small voice prickled through her deepest processors. “Does this make you a coward?” She was very good at hiding. She liked it. She loved being able to turn off, to escape, to abandon. It was her terrible pleasure to remove herself from reality, something that gave her more of a feeling of freedom than the wide world of opportunity.

You can’t reach me here. No matter what, you can’t reach me here. You can’t reach me.

It was her base pleasure to save herself, to depend on him to shield her, to not care. Why didn’t she feel any guilt? How much resentment had she collected? Nurtured? She was filled with a distilled, potent calm, smothered by the weight of her own mind in this instance when she wasn’t trying to be good for someone else’s sake.

It only feels so good because you know it won’t last.
Ficlet #49

[Exhales.] A vent.

We've all heard about the high of cancelling plans, but what about the high of a well-functioning member of society removing herself from social obligations altogether? The sweet, sweet pleasure of leaving communication behind, only to surround yourself with your most trusted confidant?

Short term solutions. Someone might be getting hurt, but savoring the fact that they don't really need you. You're not obligated to help anyone, you aren't their personal therapist, it's not really your problem.

Then... realizing that you've been hurting. You're lashing out by withdrawing, you're taking sweet satisfaction from the thought that they're struggling without you because you haven't communicated your true feelings. They don't know that they're causing you stress, you don't think you deserve to be stressed considering what they're going through, so nothing is ever said. The tension builds and builds until they ask for too much and suddenly, you're gone, and both of us are so much worse for the wear... and I meet new people, and things start to become normal, but I'm so careful to stay far enough away that nobody counts on me like that again, because I can't afford to be somebody's lifeline...

And I can't judge whether new people can trust me because I've always had a hard time trusting myself, so it's much easier to just go without and stick to what I'm certain won't change by my own faults...


But none of this matters because being somewhere quiet and familiar with someone who understands feels so good that my own morals don't seem to matter so much any more.



If you are confused, please refer to the timeline featured on my profile.
Disclaimer: All elements of Buzz Lightyear of Star Command and Wall.E (c) Disney/Pixar.
All stories are subject to change of any kind at any time.  There is no such thing as truly finishing a piece of writing, so don't be surprised if you notice something that you didn't see before.
Comments, constructive criticism, and favorites are always encouraged!  If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.
Please contact me if you want to use my work in any way.  I'd be glad to discuss things with you. :D (Big Grin)
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