Odd Little Story
So I had this idea to write a story of random thoughts and make it kind of come together. Just a constantly evolving story at the whim of my ever overactive imagination. I have the various entries dated. You'll probably see some of my real-life events show up in it if you know me. It'll also reflect my odd perspective of things. Have at it. and leave any comments in my guestbook linked from the main page, or in My LiveJournal.
05/22/2002
I began to......destroy my world. To create my own version of it. Nothing was changing. and that very much bothered me. The only one I could speak to of such things was a little one by the name of Camilla. She understood many things a seven year old child wouldn't. Life, death, pain. It was all too real and too easy to comprehend for her. Made me wonder how she acquired such knowledge. A child of the world I liked to call her. Silky porcelain skin. Cheeks of the faintest red. Hair of the most vibrant and beautiful gold curls that it seemed she was aflame. Always dressed in the most elegant yet child-like little dresses. So innocent. So pure. God could not have created a more beautiful creature. And the Devil could not have done such a horrible thing to her. Such a horrible life she had. Though, it was over, in a manner of speaking.
She spoke with me on these matters. When the world was nothing and more than I could bear. My kinship with her was as wonderful as it was mysterious. I spoke to her of the outside world. The constant pummeling of horrible news. "The world ascending into hell.", as I liked to call it. The world was going mad, and I was loving, and hating, every minute of it. It all seemed so easily destroyed and yet unmallible and resilient. The world was beside itself with news of corrupt clergy. Insane bombers who so willingly gave their life to a cause that they would never get to see through. The world becomes terrible when you're allowed to see it like I have. I prayed Camilla would never have to witness such things. Although, in my deepest of hearts I knew she would. The one who had done this unspeakable thing to her ensured that. I had to tell her such things for she tormented me if I refused. She was quite younger than me. Most were. But she'd been here many many years. Learning the world from the various people she encountered. I felt her as soon as I came to this place. A disheveled old mansion in the outskirts of New Orleans. None here but her and myself. There were the occasional vagrants and vandals, but they did have their purpose. The only company one such as myself can keep is with those who are damned, in one form or another, like I am. Through different circumstances, she shared my curse of eternity.
05/31/2002
Ah yes, the Cemetary. I remember that painfully. That statue. That dreaded statue. The spirits danced about it as children. Such sadness in the statue. and those dreadful eyes. You wouldnt believe the things those eyes said to me. She was lost to the world. Lost to the underworld. A desperate soul caught between the realms. Forced to remain in that cursed statue. No company to keep except the few who were gifted enough to be able to speak with her. Such a sad existance, or lack thereof. Much like my own.
Moving back to the party. Such jesters. Such red-haired beauties. I almost wanted to belong...just for her, if nothing else. My old mother was there. No one ever knows how important they are to another person, or how important certain people are to them. The coldness of my existance doesnt allow these things. Closeness involves feelings which I am denied. Such is my state. And my constant strain to change it.
