Don't ask where this came from. I don't know.
Don't ask what this means. I have no idea.
Don't ask me. I just work here.
C&C welcome, if you could tell me what the hell this means, I'd be grateful.
(Who worries about herself, sometimes...)
The glass shatters around me, sharps shards biting into my ears and cheeks and tearing angrily at my hair as I fly through the sudden, glittering cloud. More tiny glitters lodge in my clothing, tearing through shirt and pants and skin, until I am a thousand little cuts and scratches; every one of them stings in the suddenly too cold air.
It doesn't matter, though, I'm falling. I can feel gravity take firm hold of me and pull me through a second cloud of silvery glass, faster and faster toward the ground. Strangely enough, the faster I fall, the slower the world becomes, each movement flowing like molasses into the next.
I've never felt so free in my entire life.
It's odd how only the scratches hurt. My middle is only a dull ache, nothing compared to the sharp little pains that my nerves are broadcasting from the glass. I'm leaving a trail of blood in the air, droplets of it dripping regularly away from me as I continue to fall, faster. There's a gunshot wound in my gut, I know. I heard the sound, smelled the powder right before the world shattered around me.
I want to bring my hands in to clutch my stomach, to stop the red blood that I'm leaving behind me, sprayed out across the china blue and white of the sky. It doesn't seem right, red on the perfect sky like that...but my hands won't move. I'm frozen, spread eagled like I'm about to do an enormous back flop into a swimming pool. I can see an endless glass wall that is the skyscraper rushing up and up, under my feet; no, it can't be a wall, because then I would be on my back, so it's the floor, and it's one big moving sidewalk speeding along beneath me.
I can't be falling; I've made it through the war, I've made it through the peace and back into life. Eighteen year olds don't take swan dives out of skyscrapers with gut wounds. This isn't the movies. This is life. My life.
So the wall is the floor and the sky is the wall and up is front and down is back, and I'm stationary; the world is just moving past me.
The air is rushing past me, faster, faster. It feels like a cold cushion; my arms and legs are numb, I can't feel anything. My braid suddenly frees itself from my collar and whips up past my face, hanging out in the sky with the blood and the clouds and the deep blue. So pretty...I'm momentarily blinded by the glass around me as it catches the beautiful white sun, splintering its light into my eyes. Then I can see myself, broken into a cloud of tiny, tiny pieces, all wide purple eyes and streaming hair and blood. Blood...a lot of blood, red and thick all over everything, face and hands and soaking my clothing. It's funny, because I feel fine, even though I'm shattered like the shards and broken apart so that anyone can look at me and see my insides.
When I hit the ground, everyone's definitely going to see my insides, then, but I don't think I'll care at that point. You only get to choose who your show yourself to when you're alive, but when you're dead it doesn't matter anyway.
I wonder what they'll say, when I'm spread out all over the concrete of the sidewalk. "Yuck" probably. I'll just be so much meaningless meat, once I'm no longer covered by my outer shell. It's funny, when you're alive, it's the opposite way around; it's the outer shell that's meaningless and useless, and the insides where all the secrets and life lies.
If I ever hit the ground. I'm still falling and falling...
The wind rushing past me feels like hands on my skin, tingling up my spine and carressing my neck. Hands...hands... It feels nice, like fantasy and reality and a wish all rolled up into one. It numbs the pain of the cuts and makes me forget about the bullet lodged in my gut. The top of the skyscraper is almost completely gone, off in the distance where I'll never be able to reach it.
I don't understand. Why? What's happening?
I said "I love you." And now I'm falling. I'm falling, forever...I don't think I'll ever hit the ground.
I can see my hands in my peripheral vision, stretched out like wings against the dark ground encroaching on my shining, china blue--eye blue sky. My fingers are long and thin and delicate, chilled white with the the rushing air like feathers Wings, then, so I should be flying. But I'm falling and falling and falling...
I remember the picture of death I saw in a book once, the angel with a wicked, promising smile and black, black wings. So I should be flying, now, shouldn't I? I am death, after all. Even in peace, I'm still here, because I'm always with people, no matter where they hide. But I'm falling with my blood and my hair and the thousands of glittering shards around me.
It will never end. Never...never...never...
Look into his eyes and smile... "I love you."
The ground reaches up and catches me.
Katsu no Miko (ICQ me! 13773131)
Wufei no Seishi
Keeper of Duo's Angst
Duo's Grand Inquisitor and Head Torturer
Keeper of Duo's Stake, Mallet, and Browning .40 Hi-Power III
AND: Keeper of Ad's Sanity! (*snicker* What sanity?)
"Erst wenn die Wolken schlafen gehen/kann man uns am Himmel sehen/
wir haben Angst und sind allein.../Gott weiss ich wil kein Engel sein..."