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02-27-2016, 11:54 AM
I know that I am smart. It is not a sense of superiority, it is a fact. It is an adaptation, it is something I have been forced to cultivate. Intelligence. But just as I am wise beyond my years I am traumatized, more so than I can really understand. There is a depth to the terror and the pain that I have been made to feel that even I cannot yet plumb. I, the vessel of this hurt, am trapped in this inability to cope with it.
So in the fog of her tone, her words become incomprehensible. I hear only the growling, the harsh bite that silences every syllable. What are these but the snaps of the crocodile once more, the hard strikes of its tail as it sweeps across the wide, sunny expanses and destroys us?
I want to understand, I do. I watch her step away from me and I want to move closer, to not let that distance grow larger but stay somewhere perfectly defined as it is now. My tense figure relaxes as much as it can but the second she speaks again the sound of her voice sends me into spasms once again.
Through it all I know how much easier it would be if my jaw would unhinge and my lips would shape to form words. If I could just speak to her, if I could just explain, this might all fade away. This anxious hurt would fall into the pit and I would rise above it, stand as tall as I am able before her and lower my head in a respectful greeting.
Maybe my body knows that I could. Slowly my lips parts, and my sugar-lump hoof lifts off the ground as I show both submission and a desire to step forward. Slowly, I try to mend this. But I don't have a moment to even try and speak, to find the wound to mend, before the rock beneath my hoof on the edge crumbles and I start to fall.
""
I am not sure if it is
BETTER OR WORSE
to know all that I do
BETTER OR WORSE
to know all that I do
@Aquila You can either have her grab and save him (word as you need to) or I'll just say he didn't actually fall into the pit but on the ground or recovered somehow.
