Sunday Reveries: What's left
Jun. 8th, 2009 10:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
spongetastic"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable." - C.S. Lewis
It was becoming almost involuntary now. As soon as his glass was full Peter would pick it up and wrap his lips around it, tipping back until the bitter liquid hit his tongue. Slowly he would feel it trickle down his throat and only when he swallowed could he let out a sigh of relief. People around him hunched over their own drinks, dulling their own sorrows with the sweet numbness of alcohol. Peter could see and hear them, but never acknowledged them beyond another body taking up space.
He constantly moved these days. Even if he were only pacing his small apartment, he moved. Standing still for too long made him feel uneasy. Especially when he was around people. There was always the risk that they would speak to him when he would rather sit in silence. At least when he was alone he could sit for hours at a time without being disturbed. The public, on the other hand, expected him to socialize.
Peter liked to say that things were never the same after he was captured by the government, but the truth was it happened much sooner than that. It truly started the day he saw Simone shot right in front of his eyes. His first real love bled to death in his arms, and he was powerless to help her. Even worse, it was his fault she died. He carried that weight all the way until the Haitian erased it from his mind.
Yet it happened again Caitlin, a girl he’d grown to love in such a short time was torn away from him. He lost her in a time and place he could never go. Even his own family slipped out of his fingers. Nathan turned against his own kind. A kind and brotherly Gabriel Gray vanished in an explosion. No matter what he did, no matter who he attached to, eventually they would leave him.
Peter no longer had any expectations from anyone other than himself. He couldn’t depend on anyone else; he wouldn’t, not after all the disappointment and hurt he put himself through.
He once walked the path of a hero in order to make something of himself. To be seen as special, significant, important. He walked it because he wanted to make a real difference in the world and to help others. He walked it to redeem himself for the danger he could and did put others in. Now he walked it because it was all he had left.
He lost everything else that was important to him, every person he loved. But he still had this, and with this there was no chance of being hurt.
It was becoming almost involuntary now. As soon as his glass was full Peter would pick it up and wrap his lips around it, tipping back until the bitter liquid hit his tongue. Slowly he would feel it trickle down his throat and only when he swallowed could he let out a sigh of relief. People around him hunched over their own drinks, dulling their own sorrows with the sweet numbness of alcohol. Peter could see and hear them, but never acknowledged them beyond another body taking up space.
He constantly moved these days. Even if he were only pacing his small apartment, he moved. Standing still for too long made him feel uneasy. Especially when he was around people. There was always the risk that they would speak to him when he would rather sit in silence. At least when he was alone he could sit for hours at a time without being disturbed. The public, on the other hand, expected him to socialize.
Peter liked to say that things were never the same after he was captured by the government, but the truth was it happened much sooner than that. It truly started the day he saw Simone shot right in front of his eyes. His first real love bled to death in his arms, and he was powerless to help her. Even worse, it was his fault she died. He carried that weight all the way until the Haitian erased it from his mind.
Yet it happened again Caitlin, a girl he’d grown to love in such a short time was torn away from him. He lost her in a time and place he could never go. Even his own family slipped out of his fingers. Nathan turned against his own kind. A kind and brotherly Gabriel Gray vanished in an explosion. No matter what he did, no matter who he attached to, eventually they would leave him.
Peter no longer had any expectations from anyone other than himself. He couldn’t depend on anyone else; he wouldn’t, not after all the disappointment and hurt he put himself through.
He once walked the path of a hero in order to make something of himself. To be seen as special, significant, important. He walked it because he wanted to make a real difference in the world and to help others. He walked it to redeem himself for the danger he could and did put others in. Now he walked it because it was all he had left.
He lost everything else that was important to him, every person he loved. But he still had this, and with this there was no chance of being hurt.