Post by Narcissa King on Oct 25, 2020 14:43:37 GMT -4
It wasn't that late at night but it was already dark and she wasn't particularly hungry or motivated to get out of bed. It was probably a very bad idea to already go and sleep. What if she would wake up around ten or eleven and not be able to fall asleep again or worse at two or three in the morning? She hated hours and days like this. She was a failure, that much was clear. She wasn't sure if she actually had someone or cared enough about someone to let them in. It was all a facade, right? To keep them happy, but not think about herself. It tore on her, ripped her apart, so everyone could pick at her. What was a skin if nothing more then a durability system, something to keep you save from nasty words and nasty memories? Well, it was clear she did not have that what it took. She always thought she did, growing up with politics and how to play that game right, but she wasn't even good at that either. She wasn't even sure who the real Narcissa King was anymore. Isn't that sad?
Constantly and always fighting to make others feel at home and pleased and happy. That was why she had wanted to become a hero. To be there for people, to safe them, to help them and support them against all the vile and nasty shit the world would spit at them. Their eyes were very cold when she arrived at that building and they seemed disappointed in her, keeping her to higher standards than was even humanely possible. No one could be at two places at once, no one could predict the future because if she had those powers, it would not have happened. Why did they only look at her? Probably because right at the time that she arrived they announced she was the pro-hero. Goodbye, everything that was nice and safe and goodbye great dream of being helpful and loved. She could not take it. The heavy feeling of the past that now influenced her future was like a heavyweight that she constantly had to drag with her. Constantly trying to push and pull it there where she was going, and constantly feeling it on her back or dragging on her arms. Whichever dance step or quickstep or movement she wanted to make, it was like heavy baggage. Something she had not learned to let go, sometimes she called it vengeance, sometimes she just called it loneliness. But most of all it was a sadness that seemed to have swallowed her heart and was unable to let her go. There was nothing there for her anymore, not in Barbados and not here. As usual, she was alone. She had used all her charm and all her wit against the people that did seem to care, only to push them away. That was the usual predicament. Japan was her Sahara, her dessert with only illusions that would try and show her happiness, nothing else.
Narcissa lifted up her head, tried to adjust her pillow and turned around. Away from her phone and her tablet. She should come up with a plan but she felt in no state to do so. She wanted someone to hold her, someone to wipe her tears away. Instead, she knew that she had been at it for too long. They probably thought of her as petty, as an idiot and an insult to even be around with. She tried to think of the kind words that Kyoko told her, the compliments from Kozue or the eyes of Antonio. They were all a lie too and if not, they would eventually have enough of her. Enough of her game, her pushing and pulling, her anger and her tears. It would not take long, she better prepare. Maybe she should pack everything, so she could be ready to leave at any given moment, there was enough money to buy a ticket to whatever new destination there was waiting for her. Maybe Morrocco wasn't a bad idea, really disappear into the Sahara. No one would come to find her, and if they did it was probably already too late.
She was so tired of the feeling, of the heavy load. She felt the tears drip down her cheek or onto her nose and just drop on her hand below her cheek. Tears were for weak people, for sad people... for those people that had a good reason to cry. She did not, she brought this all on herself. She could have tried to be a good ambassador, tried to be an honest secretary of state, that might be something really cool to be. But no, she deceit and lied and got those jobs not even honest. She killed him, she killed them all, and he would never be back. She heard it, her lousy way of taking a deep breath. It was her fault, she would never be forgiven, she killed him. She and she alone had taken matters literally into her own hands and she felt horrible the longer she thought about it.
Eyes closed against the darkness, tears streaming down her face. Narcissa King was nothing more than a broken fragile thing and she knew that. She perhaps was the only one who knew that and it made her feel so weak and so vulnerable and stupid. Would there be anyone that would care about her if she spoke the truth? If she would say what she had to say? Would someone remain loyal to her? Who was she kidding, she wouldn't even stay loyal to herself, then why ask it of some other person. It felt as if she was waiting for that dagger in her back, again and again. "Are you happy, mother?" She felt that at her age and at her status, she should not cry over lost things, she should not cry over not having things, after all to the outside world it looked like she had everything.
But she had nothing at all.
Constantly and always fighting to make others feel at home and pleased and happy. That was why she had wanted to become a hero. To be there for people, to safe them, to help them and support them against all the vile and nasty shit the world would spit at them. Their eyes were very cold when she arrived at that building and they seemed disappointed in her, keeping her to higher standards than was even humanely possible. No one could be at two places at once, no one could predict the future because if she had those powers, it would not have happened. Why did they only look at her? Probably because right at the time that she arrived they announced she was the pro-hero. Goodbye, everything that was nice and safe and goodbye great dream of being helpful and loved. She could not take it. The heavy feeling of the past that now influenced her future was like a heavyweight that she constantly had to drag with her. Constantly trying to push and pull it there where she was going, and constantly feeling it on her back or dragging on her arms. Whichever dance step or quickstep or movement she wanted to make, it was like heavy baggage. Something she had not learned to let go, sometimes she called it vengeance, sometimes she just called it loneliness. But most of all it was a sadness that seemed to have swallowed her heart and was unable to let her go. There was nothing there for her anymore, not in Barbados and not here. As usual, she was alone. She had used all her charm and all her wit against the people that did seem to care, only to push them away. That was the usual predicament. Japan was her Sahara, her dessert with only illusions that would try and show her happiness, nothing else.
Narcissa lifted up her head, tried to adjust her pillow and turned around. Away from her phone and her tablet. She should come up with a plan but she felt in no state to do so. She wanted someone to hold her, someone to wipe her tears away. Instead, she knew that she had been at it for too long. They probably thought of her as petty, as an idiot and an insult to even be around with. She tried to think of the kind words that Kyoko told her, the compliments from Kozue or the eyes of Antonio. They were all a lie too and if not, they would eventually have enough of her. Enough of her game, her pushing and pulling, her anger and her tears. It would not take long, she better prepare. Maybe she should pack everything, so she could be ready to leave at any given moment, there was enough money to buy a ticket to whatever new destination there was waiting for her. Maybe Morrocco wasn't a bad idea, really disappear into the Sahara. No one would come to find her, and if they did it was probably already too late.
She was so tired of the feeling, of the heavy load. She felt the tears drip down her cheek or onto her nose and just drop on her hand below her cheek. Tears were for weak people, for sad people... for those people that had a good reason to cry. She did not, she brought this all on herself. She could have tried to be a good ambassador, tried to be an honest secretary of state, that might be something really cool to be. But no, she deceit and lied and got those jobs not even honest. She killed him, she killed them all, and he would never be back. She heard it, her lousy way of taking a deep breath. It was her fault, she would never be forgiven, she killed him. She and she alone had taken matters literally into her own hands and she felt horrible the longer she thought about it.
Eyes closed against the darkness, tears streaming down her face. Narcissa King was nothing more than a broken fragile thing and she knew that. She perhaps was the only one who knew that and it made her feel so weak and so vulnerable and stupid. Would there be anyone that would care about her if she spoke the truth? If she would say what she had to say? Would someone remain loyal to her? Who was she kidding, she wouldn't even stay loyal to herself, then why ask it of some other person. It felt as if she was waiting for that dagger in her back, again and again. "Are you happy, mother?" She felt that at her age and at her status, she should not cry over lost things, she should not cry over not having things, after all to the outside world it looked like she had everything.
But she had nothing at all.
