Vastly Overrated by priestess24

Illusion of Grandeur

Illusion of Grandeur

The sky is blue. There is no other way to explain the color of the sky itself. One might argue that the sky is not blue. One might say that the color of the sky as blue is only a figment of the imagination. It is only normal to assume that the sky is blue when it appears to be so.

There is no denying that the color of the sky is...blue. Because really, how can the sky not be blue. The beings of the known Earth see it every day, and it is blue. Senseless drivel is what one might think this is, but really... Is it?

In one way, an individual would take this as 'drivel' but senseless is indeed too far. For it is indeed drivel which is mostly a running together of thoughts, but senseless? I think not. It makes perfect sense.

To be honest, the majority of the re-known universe is absolutely certain that most inane things are 'senseless drivel', but no... it's not. The world is wrong. This inane talk makes more sense than how the incorporated world insists on speaking. It is considered inane, but what one should consider is the fact that it is in fact a sense of philosophical intuition.

The media is known as the interpreter of the world. The tides crash, weave, and wave in the media. The significant others in the world are swayed by a proverbial juice called fame and a political cup called power. One might think that the world of fame has nothing to do with politics.

Well, that is you. Think that as you will. It is your view, but I'll have none of it. Fame and Politics coincide in a loveless, scandalous, affair. Power calls to fame and fame accosts power. The both are kindling an exploitation of sorts.

In fame... there is little power.. truthfully, in fame the power is way-ward. The power could come to the community or it would be had by those within the fame. But it swishes back and forth...

A see-saw and spilled cup of juice.

But if the balance is kept, within fame and power...

It stands, but always these two entities back fire.

I presume I have sighed, as the family tutor has sent a glare in my direction. I hear snickers from the left, I dine to not look, as I know without doing so, that it is my elder brothers' Katsui and Dutai.

I do not think that I am ready to face my mothers' fierce gaze when she hears about my un-attentiveness in class. Nor am I very well prepared for the lovely little chat I will be forced to have with my father when he gets home.

I'm highly disappointed, however, that it is always and only me who gets in trouble. As if it is my fault that I was born a girl. I'm not even worthy enough to be a 'middle' child, no... I can't even be that. THAT would be my brother Katsui who relinquished his hold in my mothers' whomb AFTER Dutai who came first. Regardless of the fact that my brothers' were born merely three minutes after each other...

I am not what they were expecting. Not me, whom was female... no... not me whom thought more of the family business than my father and brothers put togethe- well just my brothers.

I have the smarts, but even then... when I was younger... I wanted to... I wanted to..

Well... I wanted to paint, draw, color. Art. IT was my passion. I loved philosophy, art, literature, writing, and history... where as my brothers would rather play rugby, football (soccer), or simply to sit in class and pretend that they are interested.

Sighing, for I am sure that is what I am doing, though I am numb to what is going on around me. It's not that I am oblivious. No. It's just that I feel as if I'm watching my life from an unobstrusive point of view.

I am wishing for a release. Tense shoulders are always a dead give away to stress, It's a reminder that is kept close to heart. I make my way into the sitting room, back straight, head held high, the perfect little model of a daughter. Little, I think with acerbic tones.

My tongue is thick and fills my mouth. Oh, this is perfect. I managed to with-hold the sigh that threatens to come out. I am most surprised that I was even aware of said sigh.

Father has guests' when he comes home. He always manages to find something to do... This was one of his favorites... other than to ignore his family.

I do not enjoy my life, but I do not truly wish it to stagnate either. Stagnation meant to stay in one place. Stagnation, for me, meant death.

"Father, forgive me my interruption." I say softly. He beconed be forward. Silently I make my way into the room. "This," he says with eyes filled with a demented sort of pride, well.... in actual reality... that supposed pride was a way for him to reel in my annoyance. I didn't want to run the business, but I was the only one actually interested in doing so... if that made any sense what so ever...

_____

The oxymoronic irony of it all was that she didn't want it on one level, because then, she couldn't be herself, when actually it IS a part of her. Given the fact that she was interested. It was interesting, and she COULD do it. But she didn't want to do it.

It was a part of her that she had to force to the fore-front of her mind everyday, and hope that it blocked out every other emotion.

______

I sat there. Agonizingly, I sat still and offered my opinion on various affairs, and kept my own inconsequential thoughts to myself. My back began to ache, and I welcomed it in some degree. It kept me awake, and made me feel. Made me feel as if I were actually real. To an exstint.

I was only too glad to zone out of the conversation in order to continue my thoughts on.. 'Why the sky was blue?'

Honestly, the sky was blue. It was un-erringly blue, and...

I pause as I'm brought back into the conversation. I suddenly realize that there is a new figure added to the equation that was the conversing individuals. I stare, decidedly I was indulging myself in this. I stare at the handsome male that had just sat down. He added his views as well and I was inherantly enjoying the fact that he was just as bored as I was. I was also interested into the fact that his views were so similar to my own.

Sighing, I zoned out.

I was vaguely remembering a glass cup that had crashed in the kitchen that I was blamed for. I had had to pick it up. I had still been numb then, but suddenly I felt, and I still haven't figured out why it affected me differently than it did every other victim that had been catalogued under the 'I angst, I cut' category.

After the end of the meeting, I was sent to my room. I was sure that this trite situation was odd. Who sends children to their rooms any more?

Then again, I had gladly complied with the 'request'.

I sat calmly on the toilet of my bathroom, which was adjacent and joining to my room. I was still in a vague state of grey. That which is called absent minded-ness.

There is a brief moment in which there is only silence. Then a sudden drip called to me. I was suddenly aware of the fact that my wrist hurt. I stared down at it. It was as if I had just broken out of a trance.

The steady beat of a heart is all I hear. This is all that I feel. Pressing the sharp edge of broken glass (No doubt in my subconscious that I saved this particular piece from that day) to my wrist...

This pain that others feel is acceptable to me, It means that I am, in fact inside my body. I sigh. It is within these moments that I am really there. These moments' that I am feeling alive. As if I am really there in my body.

It is in these moments that I realize... that...

Yes, in fact, it DOES hurt when I smile...