Singerdiva01
There were days when she wondered if all this effort to keep the human race alive was really worthwhile, in the end. The last dredges of humanity still bickered and killed each other; it was as if they hadn't really learned anything from the destruction of their worlds at all.
The movies lost much of their charm for me when I was featured in a documentary film as a teenager. It wasn't a bad experience, quite the contrary, but it did teach me that nothing on screen is real and each scene, even in documentaries, takes a lot of takes and a lot of editing. I still love movies but not in the same naive way.
Sometimes I think my future was stolen from me and then I remember it was me who squandered it away. There are remnants of the life I might have had all around me, taunting me, reminding me of all the mistakes that I made, bad choices, drinks, procrastination that got me to this place.
The first time she heard one of her aids refer to the religious masses who now followed her as a 'flock,' she recoiled in horror. She spent much of her life as a teacher trying to guide minds to independent thinking. Now, in a matter of days, she'd inspired a fleet full of sheep.
She only cries in the rain. She can't bear for others to see her tears and so she's perfected the art of holding it all in until the next downpour. Even then, she keeps her face a stone mask so the passers by won't guess her secret.
She never thought, anymore, about whether she was attractive or not. She'd long passed the age where she considered it the only thing that mattered and passed into the decades in which it mattered little at all. Only when he looked at her under those hooded lids did she wonder what he saw through those deep blue eyes.
Mental health is a luxury. One afforded by class, by racial privilege, by the gift of a family that somehow doesn't screw you up so bad by the time you're an adult you don't even know what normal feels like. It's a luxury to be able to break down and know this time won't be the last.
It wasn't how she imagined her life unfolding. To be given more than one opportunity of a lifetime and, having blown them all through her own tendency toward self destruction, dying unknown and sad and worthless on the side of a dark country highway.
The tracks led off the trail and into a wooded area she'd never seen before. It was a risk to leave the allowed path but just the idea that someone, and someone human from the looks of it, had done it before gave her the courage to take the first step toward the unknown.
He's got the air of a crook. Not a lowly one, who steals cars or deals in drugs. Perhaps women, but his sort of crime is the high end type. Perhaps embezzling money from the government, but she doesn't think that's his game either. If she had to bet, she'd place all her chips on espionage. The kind that could make the worlds come crashing down.
load more entries