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rainbowfic2016-08-20 08:47 pm
starphotographs) wrote in rainbowfic2016-08-20 08:47 pm
Meme Party 44, Olympic Gold 4 (...I did not try that.)
Name: starphotographs
Story: Universe B
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Lilith Faire Aug 20th Main Stage: http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/florencethemachine/allthisandheaventoo.html)
Characters: Kelsey
Colors: Meme party 44 (Courage Wolf), Olympic Gold 4 (silver)
Word Count: 500ish
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: One day soon, the world will really know what she’s all about.
Note: I’ve been wanting to touch on this more since I first came up with her.
The Three-Sixty Turnabout
If you’d asked me five years ago, I’d never think it would finally come to this: me laid out on a table under a spotlight, allowing myself to be cut open and rearranged.
This, after all, is what I’ve spent my whole life pushing back against. Metaphorically speaking.
Literally speaking, this is my last attempt to force the world to meet me halfway. So we can finally understand each other.
In a perfect world, at least.
And I know that all the scalpels and circuits that have ever been manufactured could never build a perfect world. Someone will always have to carve themselves up to make things right. Someone will always have to hear, “fuck you, I could never figure that out. I’m going to do it my way, and you can’t do anything about it, so stop trying.”
(They’ll both be better for it in the end.)
But, if I were given something small to remake, I’d connect myself to everyone on silver wires. Brain to brain. No making words of real things, no placing overlays that never really fit. No fumbling with my phone, brandishing the hollow victory of “easier,” me always lacking something in the end, just like they always said. No one listening when I say, “no, you don’t understand. I am whole, but I am compromising. Just like you.”
And now, I have that something. To the best of my ability, I will remake it. But it wasn’t freely given. I had to take it for myself; am laying myself down to pay for it in blood. And I can’t remake as I’d imagined, but this feels like a good place to start. A meeting-halfway. A turning of my back on everyone’s expectations. A mercy-killing of the faded self they’d hoped to see spring up in my place. I’m done with the hassle it’s been to communicate, and my hiding behind that. I’m done with the lie of trying harder.
[Though most patients report an increased quality of life and reduction of general frustration, the procedure is controversial; due to concerns that it discourages the development of natural speech, and may make it more difficult to fit in with the wider community.]
(In other words, nothing’s changing.)
They’re getting me ready, connecting the tubes, placing the mask. In just a few minutes, they’ll be inside of me, moving things around. It’s almost funny.
My blood runs cold when a stranger brushes against me in public.
When I was twelve, I whipped around and socked another kid because I could feel his breath rustling the hairs on my neck.
And now I’m here, letting all these unfamiliar hands attend to me.
It’s like I’m humoring everyone who ever thought they could fix things; ever thought they saw something to be fixed.
I count backwards. They say it’s until I fall asleep, I say it’s until I wake up, until I can finally turn the tables.
I’ll let you win just this once.
But, however I choose to speak when this is over, you better damn well listen.
Story: Universe B
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Lilith Faire Aug 20th Main Stage: http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/florencethemachine/allthisandheaventoo.html)
Characters: Kelsey
Colors: Meme party 44 (Courage Wolf), Olympic Gold 4 (silver)
Word Count: 500ish
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: One day soon, the world will really know what she’s all about.
Note: I’ve been wanting to touch on this more since I first came up with her.
If you’d asked me five years ago, I’d never think it would finally come to this: me laid out on a table under a spotlight, allowing myself to be cut open and rearranged.
This, after all, is what I’ve spent my whole life pushing back against. Metaphorically speaking.
Literally speaking, this is my last attempt to force the world to meet me halfway. So we can finally understand each other.
In a perfect world, at least.
And I know that all the scalpels and circuits that have ever been manufactured could never build a perfect world. Someone will always have to carve themselves up to make things right. Someone will always have to hear, “fuck you, I could never figure that out. I’m going to do it my way, and you can’t do anything about it, so stop trying.”
(They’ll both be better for it in the end.)
But, if I were given something small to remake, I’d connect myself to everyone on silver wires. Brain to brain. No making words of real things, no placing overlays that never really fit. No fumbling with my phone, brandishing the hollow victory of “easier,” me always lacking something in the end, just like they always said. No one listening when I say, “no, you don’t understand. I am whole, but I am compromising. Just like you.”
And now, I have that something. To the best of my ability, I will remake it. But it wasn’t freely given. I had to take it for myself; am laying myself down to pay for it in blood. And I can’t remake as I’d imagined, but this feels like a good place to start. A meeting-halfway. A turning of my back on everyone’s expectations. A mercy-killing of the faded self they’d hoped to see spring up in my place. I’m done with the hassle it’s been to communicate, and my hiding behind that. I’m done with the lie of trying harder.
[Though most patients report an increased quality of life and reduction of general frustration, the procedure is controversial; due to concerns that it discourages the development of natural speech, and may make it more difficult to fit in with the wider community.]
(In other words, nothing’s changing.)
They’re getting me ready, connecting the tubes, placing the mask. In just a few minutes, they’ll be inside of me, moving things around. It’s almost funny.
My blood runs cold when a stranger brushes against me in public.
When I was twelve, I whipped around and socked another kid because I could feel his breath rustling the hairs on my neck.
And now I’m here, letting all these unfamiliar hands attend to me.
It’s like I’m humoring everyone who ever thought they could fix things; ever thought they saw something to be fixed.
I count backwards. They say it’s until I fall asleep, I say it’s until I wake up, until I can finally turn the tables.
I’ll let you win just this once.
But, however I choose to speak when this is over, you better damn well listen.