I am more than one thing, and not all of those things are good. / xoxo lena
It is not callous, not meant to be cold. Not meant to be harsh or unloving or difficult. Not meant to be accusatory or cutting or sharp. It is gentle and relatively seething at once, an almost slicing thing. But it happens, there, right there. She backs herself up and tugs gently on the reins of her voice. She won’t keep going.
Her eyes avert and her fingertips brush the Arc contemplatively, and her gaze shifts to the floor as if she’s thinking. Thinking. Thinking. Pale snowflake blue eyes skim the floor, skate along the floorboards. She brushes down only just, enough to feel the mechanism whir and hum and hum. It’s a sound, almost.
“I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard, nature without check with original energy. I think it is the most beautiful thing there is, to be so human. Because every single negative looks bad without light, and anything in a darkness seems awful. And what would we be, if not contained of good, bad? And what the fuck is good, anyway? What dictates the nature of what makes good and bad? We contain multitudes, as people, and if you can’t remember that you’re losing the most important part there is.”
She presses again. Just so. For the feeling.
“I think it’s wonderful. Your quiet, pensive thoughtfulness and your tenacity. Things you could flip over so they look bad, too. I think you forget those things. And I think they look bad to you. I think you don’t know to someone else those un-good things are great. Just because they make up the atoms that happen to create you.”
She still can’t glance up.