First and probably last contribution

[naughtywhitecat.livejournal.com]

Absolution

First death. After death, lies.

The lies were meant for the good, to save feelings, a demonstration of compassion. At least that what I say to myself now.

I don't know the truth, I know what I want to remember, and I know why I want to have acted the way I did. I just can't be sure.

I have some desire to know the pure, abstract truth. What kind of person am I? What did happen? Should I still play the memory over and over again in my head? Do I deserve to be able to forget my mistakes?

The last thing I'll forget is the noise. A short, sharp, crack. I can hear it now, and like every other time it comes into my head - deliberate or accidental - it takes all my determination to keep my composure.

I imagine what it looks like when I remember - maybe my bottom lip quivers for a moment before I pick something to fix with a stare. The front of my head hurts, I become hot, and I'm sure flushed.

After hearing the noise I see the blood. It's crimson - more vivid and less real every time I see it. Does that mean anything? I don't think so.

The blood is an extra though - it's the noise that cuts through me.

Comments

[dreamfire.livejournal.com]

I like. someone once told me that too many questions in a piece of writing weakens the effect of the questions - I think that might be right here too.

[kneeshooter]

I can see that. I guess if you have to be reading the piece back at a certain pace in order for it to "work" you either have to somehow communicate it (how?) or go back and look at it again.