I think that I like my freedoms here. That men do not get to judge me solely based on looks and usefulness to them. I can be myself truly. I worry that returning home puts me back into a cage with a forgotten freedom I may never know again.
The likelihood you will be here for the rest of your days is slim to none. No matter your preferences.
( that is the reality. there is no choice in how long they stay, nor if they will. )
Are freedoms here, so easily given, not worth the fight, whenever you may return? I find it difficult to believe you would stand such a cage, nor any man that seeks to put you in one. Why worry, unless you do not believe in yourself?
No, I know my preferences on staying do not matter. Some of us go, some of us stay, and we have neither the warning or the ability to stop it when it comes. I have heard theory that we do not even know if it is truly we go to when it is the dead who arrive here again, and they have no where to go back to. And yet, surely I do not think this is the afterlife for us all.
[She doesn't understand the entire concept of a pocket dimension or what that could mean, but that is probably closest to what she believes of this place.]
I think it would be entirely dependent on if I even remember such things. I am not afraid to fight for what I believe in, but I also cannot fight for something I entirely do not know of either. Yes, I believe in equal rights, but I have never tasted it before, have not know what I am truly capable of until I have done it.
( klaus sucks in a soft breath as his eyes follow it is the dead who arrive here again, and they have no where to go back to — and his thoughts linger there, that accepted weight in his heart heavy.
perhaps it is easier for him to consider the endless possibilities of her life because his options are so limited. because this, after all, is ostensibly his only option to live. what a gift, he considers, to have even the possibility of more. )
I understand. I meant only that forgotten or not, here or at home, there is still a chance to find happiness, and whatever freedoms you may afford. Your inevitabilities are not so bleak.
As someone who is dead, I cannot imagine there is not comfort in that.
[An admission that feels strange to say. There are many here that know she was with someone for near a year, a long time by the standards of the city whose whims chew people up and spit them out, but that's also another side effect of being here so long. Connections come and go. They're forged, changed, evolved into something more. Only to be dissolved when someone else leaves.]
I have learned to thrive in this place beyond my inevitabilities. I have also learned to pick myself off the floor when this place has taken my whole world. But it, too, was an inevitability, one we had talked of often, he and I. He was dead, too, back in his own world.
So you are hardly wrong. There is... something to be said of this place that exists in this, what? In between? I just do not like to think about the idea of returning as if it is some looming inevitability. I can do nothing for it. Just what is set before me here, now. Thriving, surviving-- whatever it may be depending on the day.
( reading the last of her message has him nodding, quietly, to himself. however bittersweet her happiness here was, it was happy. it was happiness and it is fulfillment that she will not find at home, no matter her options, known and unknown.
to live in the present, to the fullest, is all anyone may do.
it is a prospect, even after a thousand years, he can barely conceive.
he died for hope. even in death, in this in-between place, he lived for her, too. without her, without his family, or any possibility of that life he so dearly wanted and so earnestly left, what else is here for him now? what life may he live?
what life does he want? )
I suppose I was happy here.
Happiness has oft been a stranger to me. Though perhaps my inevitabilities need not be so bleak either. Whatever we may call them.
You have a strength of clarity I admire. Thank you.
Sometimes this place gives one perspective and a lot of reflection. Not to say that I can completely understand what you might have gone through, but I think in many ways the city likes to shake out parts of ourselves through a sieve. One gets shaken long enough, more gets revealed. And in my experience, most of us have more in common.
But I do hope you find some happiness here, Klaus. Even if it is fleeting. They are moments that have still happened, and sometimes in this place, that is what we need most.
If I can you that, then I am gladdened that our shared experience, albeit painful, has amounted to something.
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( that is the reality. there is no choice in how long they stay, nor if they will. )
Are freedoms here, so easily given, not worth the fight, whenever you may return? I find it difficult to believe you would stand such a cage, nor any man that seeks to put you in one. Why worry, unless you do not believe in yourself?
no subject
[She doesn't understand the entire concept of a pocket dimension or what that could mean, but that is probably closest to what she believes of this place.]
I think it would be entirely dependent on if I even remember such things. I am not afraid to fight for what I believe in, but I also cannot fight for something I entirely do not know of either. Yes, I believe in equal rights, but I have never tasted it before, have not know what I am truly capable of until I have done it.
It feels less a worry, more inevitability.
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perhaps it is easier for him to consider the endless possibilities of her life because his options are so limited. because this, after all, is ostensibly his only option to live. what a gift, he considers, to have even the possibility of more. )
I understand. I meant only that forgotten or not, here or at home, there is still a chance to find happiness, and whatever freedoms you may afford. Your inevitabilities are not so bleak.
As someone who is dead, I cannot imagine there is not comfort in that.
no subject
[An admission that feels strange to say. There are many here that know she was with someone for near a year, a long time by the standards of the city whose whims chew people up and spit them out, but that's also another side effect of being here so long. Connections come and go. They're forged, changed, evolved into something more. Only to be dissolved when someone else leaves.]
I have learned to thrive in this place beyond my inevitabilities. I have also learned to pick myself off the floor when this place has taken my whole world. But it, too, was an inevitability, one we had talked of often, he and I. He was dead, too, back in his own world.
So you are hardly wrong. There is... something to be said of this place that exists in this, what? In between? I just do not like to think about the idea of returning as if it is some looming inevitability. I can do nothing for it. Just what is set before me here, now. Thriving, surviving-- whatever it may be depending on the day.
no subject
to live in the present, to the fullest, is all anyone may do.
it is a prospect, even after a thousand years, he can barely conceive.
he died for hope. even in death, in this in-between place, he lived for her, too. without her, without his family, or any possibility of that life he so dearly wanted and so earnestly left, what else is here for him now? what life may he live?
what life does he want? )
I suppose I was happy here.
Happiness has oft been a stranger to me. Though perhaps my inevitabilities need not be so bleak either. Whatever we may call them.
You have a strength of clarity I admire. Thank you.
no subject
But I do hope you find some happiness here, Klaus. Even if it is fleeting. They are moments that have still happened, and sometimes in this place, that is what we need most.
If I can you that, then I am gladdened that our shared experience, albeit painful, has amounted to something.