Response to Chapter 6, "And Now" by Make_Me_Forget.
“Now one day you’re humming it under your breath, or it comes on the radio, or the DJ plays it at a dance, and your friend says something along the lines of ”I love that song!” or “Hey, I know this.” And you had absolutely no idea that they even knew the song existed, let alone that they loved it and knew it as well as you did, and you just look at them and the smallest, quietest part of you wonders why the smallest, quietest part of them loves the song. And you start thinking about why you love it and then you say something, anything, asking them a question about it (“Really?” or “You know it?” most commonly), while the whole time you’re thinking that there’s a tiny, caged voice locked up in their head, just like yours.
The thing about tiny, caged voices is that they find ways to say what they want without speaking. They make you hear things from outside you wouldn’t if you didn’t hear them inside. That’s why the saddest people are the nicest, because they hear when you’re sad and why. The sad people are the meanest – because they’re not quite sad enough to hear anything but that tiny, caged voice and they have to strain to even hear that. But the saddest people are the nicest because they hear everything you don’t say. They hear every tiny, caged voice out there, because theirs is dying.”
I like to think of the dying voices as... phoenix’s though. Rather than just… dying, they slowly die and something rekindles them and they begin a rebirth. A massive explosion of beauty and light.
Maybe it's because I half-expect some of the saddest people to just take the stand like they're meant to. You can see it in the way they think, write, and even just look around the room.
They are all born to just.. take the front of the line and storm life with a prowess none of us can even dream of.
But I feel as if what they were meant to do was stripped from them, and that's why they are sad. That's why they are so out of place. They aren't where they are supposed to be and that voice, their heart, the very deepest recesses of their soul KNOW they aren't in tune with the rest of the world.
Something beautiful is meant to happen to them, but somehow... that beauty was taken from them before they even knew what their own beauty was. That's why they're so hard on themselves. They can't see beauty in themselves, because who can see beauty in something that's not supposed to exist? Everyone else knows they are different, everyone else can see it, they radiate it with every ounce of their being, but who are they to believe it when inside, they know they aren't mean to be this way? They are unsure of themselves, because they were removed from righteousness and placed among the commoners. We are all individual, we are all wonderful, beautiful, some of us dank and horrible, but ALL individual. But those certain people, those faithful watchers, those under-achievers that strive just to breathe, those silent wonders, they are something more. Not everyone chooses to admit it and THAT is why they get shut down and destroyed and picked on so much. In commoner defense, regular people get picked on too, but if you notice those special ones, those few, those rare monoliths among us, they regularly get ripped apart. But they get along best with the ones who aren't affected by whatever incantation keeps those beautifully powerful at bay. Especially well with children, with the old, with the more observant regular people. Because why would something take effect on someone who can't even comprehend the world as it is anyway? They tend to gravitate towards each-other, not very well knowing it, but they do. They are hardly ever two in the same vicinity but in some cases there are. And when they do, great things happen. They begin to realize that they can breathe. If they lift their heads up a bit higher, they can see that they are allowed to stare into the sun because why would they care if their eyes got hurt? They do it, because they CAN. They used to be able to see the beauty in everything; usually, the only ones who can see beauty in literally even rocks. But having clashed with a fellow heart, they can see the happiness entwined. Before, they couldn't because they were ranked with sadness over the fact that they were stuck behind a glass wall, not able to experience it. They spent their entire lives wishing they could go beyond that wall and just roll around in the grass, lay in the sun, and hug someone and actually FEEL compassion towards themselves. They were trapped. But after meeting another like themselves, it's okay, because they realize that they aren't alone behind the wall anymore. And even better than that, they turn around and see that they have their entire own world identical to the one on the other side of the wall, but laced with beauty at a higher frequency than the old world could never imagine. Then they explore. They live. Sadness still weighs them down, clipped their wings, but by God they are strong enough to at least run. They can run, and they can run fast. They are the dreamers. The inspired. The silently wonderful. And every now and then they fall, but that's okay because they have that one other there to help them back up again. They may have scrapes, they may have bruises. But it's okay. It will be okay, because they have their other half.
They are angels. They aren't meant to be here. They are the saddest of us all, because they are meant to fly. To soar. To take to the sky as if it were nothing more than a swimming pool and they were Olympic swimmers on steroids. You can't stop them. They may not have their power. They may not be normal. But Lord, nobody can get in their way. Once they find out they can go, they don't stop. The world is theirs. We're only here for the ride.
