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Sep. 28th, 2008 05:05 pmIt’s safe to say I don’t desire//Everything you push inside my head//And I’ll reject it until I’m dead
Bumping shoulders on a busy street, someone patting her back as they try to maneuver through crowded room, a sudden kiss hello from a friend, handshake from a random stranger, someone stepping on her foot. The brief contact had little to no impact on these people; most of them didn’t even acknowledge it happened, but for Chantal…
By the time she got home Chantal’s jaw was clenched and her head throbbing. Emotionally, she was reeling from the absolute overload the minute contact had subjected her to: the flashes of lives she either knew nothing about or in one case, knew far too much already. Imagery and feelings, voices and sounds, places and events…none of it in any logical, sequential order and none of it wanted. Someone was cheating and going to be caught, another was going to learn they are pregnant; a man is going to win the lottery…but not the jackpot. A young woman is going to end her life over too much financial debt, someone is laughing hysterically while another person weeps inconsolably. Weddings, funerals, found house keys, broken nails, postcards from abroad, stubbed toes, burned cookies…
The important and the frivolous all mixed up and mingled together into something almost unintelligible until she found herself in the relative silence of her living room. It was only then that things began to filter and sort themselves out, making the pictures a bit clearer and easier to interpret. She was able to assign voices to the proper faces and match locations to events and people. Chantal was also able to actually breathe without panic and think without pain. Alone, she was able to separate herself, her mind, her present from the future noise of her clairvoyant gathering.
Alone, she was able to reason away justification for ignoring the information, forcing herself to forget and disregard. Telling herself she had no right to mettle or get involved. That she’d be accused of being crazy or worse should she even try. Reminding herself that this is why she was better off maintaining her solitary lifestyle. She didn’t want this, the responsibility or the power, the temptation to influence the world, lives, the plans the universe has already made.
All she wanted was a bottle of aspirin and a nap. And to forget.
Chantal Weller//OC//381
Bumping shoulders on a busy street, someone patting her back as they try to maneuver through crowded room, a sudden kiss hello from a friend, handshake from a random stranger, someone stepping on her foot. The brief contact had little to no impact on these people; most of them didn’t even acknowledge it happened, but for Chantal…
By the time she got home Chantal’s jaw was clenched and her head throbbing. Emotionally, she was reeling from the absolute overload the minute contact had subjected her to: the flashes of lives she either knew nothing about or in one case, knew far too much already. Imagery and feelings, voices and sounds, places and events…none of it in any logical, sequential order and none of it wanted. Someone was cheating and going to be caught, another was going to learn they are pregnant; a man is going to win the lottery…but not the jackpot. A young woman is going to end her life over too much financial debt, someone is laughing hysterically while another person weeps inconsolably. Weddings, funerals, found house keys, broken nails, postcards from abroad, stubbed toes, burned cookies…
The important and the frivolous all mixed up and mingled together into something almost unintelligible until she found herself in the relative silence of her living room. It was only then that things began to filter and sort themselves out, making the pictures a bit clearer and easier to interpret. She was able to assign voices to the proper faces and match locations to events and people. Chantal was also able to actually breathe without panic and think without pain. Alone, she was able to separate herself, her mind, her present from the future noise of her clairvoyant gathering.
Alone, she was able to reason away justification for ignoring the information, forcing herself to forget and disregard. Telling herself she had no right to mettle or get involved. That she’d be accused of being crazy or worse should she even try. Reminding herself that this is why she was better off maintaining her solitary lifestyle. She didn’t want this, the responsibility or the power, the temptation to influence the world, lives, the plans the universe has already made.
All she wanted was a bottle of aspirin and a nap. And to forget.
Chantal Weller//OC//381
