Post by charlotte on May 12, 2007 6:11:22 GMT 1
Moving back, Charlotte turned uncomfortably at Dante's question, sitting back down upon the the bench softly.
"... I'm not one much for grudges or revenge or anger, like you said," the dark haired junior said at length. "And you're right about me not being a fighter."
She found herself choked up suddenly, unable to explain her own layers of introversion, or finding the words to describe exactly how she knew about the principles of fighting.
You live so long inside yourself that when you finally open up, it starts to hurt, and your introversion has become so much a part of who you are that you have to make an effort just to keep it at bay.
"... I ... was ... not exactly the most popular or well liked person in elementary school and junior high ..." She stammered, finally managing to half-mumble her thought. Then, her original sarcasm returning for a moment, she added, "... for obvious reasons."
"I actually got into quite a few fights then, but near the end of junior high ... I guess I just grew out of it; learned to distance myself from it all." Charlotte shrugged meekly, not wanting to look at Dante.
But as time wears on, you peel it off, layer by layer, piece by piece, and the more you break off, the more you start thinking to yourself, "This doesn't hurt so much."
"When I went to High School ... it was a school across the city, before we moved closer to the job my mother landed and I transferred here ... well, when I was there ... I suppose it was a lot like here.
"There were people who enjoyed fighting, people who wanted to disrupt the system, but the big difference between here and there was that over there everything was simple. It was so cut and paste, and when I really look back on it, even though it wasn't that long ago, it all seems like child's play compared to this. It's as if I had spent my freshman and sophmore years in a sandbox.
"But that doesn't change the things I saw, the emotions I watched others experience, and the things that really drive people to fight and hurt each other."
Finally Charlotte found herself able to face Dante, older memories beginning to boil to the surface, her speech triggering the onset of feelings she had thought to have been long since stripped away by her own accord. Memories of being teased in elementary school; of that girl pulling her hair in sixth grade and Charlotte reflexively hitting her in the face; remembering sitting at the back of the classroom in her sophmore year at her old school when the fight broke out and a desk was thrown out the window next to her, smashing it.
Dredging up the past was not thing Charlotte ever liked to do, whether intentional or unintentional. As far as she was concerned, it had already happened, was unchangable, and had no place affecting her present like it did.
"I've spent most of my school life around people like you!" She shot out loudly, her voice far more angry than cold or sarcastic. The very sound of an emotion controlling her actions, even to this degree, frightened her, only made her more upset. That was precisely why she hated being forced to dwell on the past.
"You're no different than dozens of others, so DON'T assume what I do and do not know about this, or WHY I would know it in the first place!"
A few deep breaths and the junior managed to calm her surge of anger, turning away from Dante again, beginning to feel sickened on the account of her moderate loss of her normally level-headed nature.
And then the intorversion starts again.
"... I'm not one much for grudges or revenge or anger, like you said," the dark haired junior said at length. "And you're right about me not being a fighter."
She found herself choked up suddenly, unable to explain her own layers of introversion, or finding the words to describe exactly how she knew about the principles of fighting.
You live so long inside yourself that when you finally open up, it starts to hurt, and your introversion has become so much a part of who you are that you have to make an effort just to keep it at bay.
"... I ... was ... not exactly the most popular or well liked person in elementary school and junior high ..." She stammered, finally managing to half-mumble her thought. Then, her original sarcasm returning for a moment, she added, "... for obvious reasons."
"I actually got into quite a few fights then, but near the end of junior high ... I guess I just grew out of it; learned to distance myself from it all." Charlotte shrugged meekly, not wanting to look at Dante.
But as time wears on, you peel it off, layer by layer, piece by piece, and the more you break off, the more you start thinking to yourself, "This doesn't hurt so much."
"When I went to High School ... it was a school across the city, before we moved closer to the job my mother landed and I transferred here ... well, when I was there ... I suppose it was a lot like here.
"There were people who enjoyed fighting, people who wanted to disrupt the system, but the big difference between here and there was that over there everything was simple. It was so cut and paste, and when I really look back on it, even though it wasn't that long ago, it all seems like child's play compared to this. It's as if I had spent my freshman and sophmore years in a sandbox.
"But that doesn't change the things I saw, the emotions I watched others experience, and the things that really drive people to fight and hurt each other."
Finally Charlotte found herself able to face Dante, older memories beginning to boil to the surface, her speech triggering the onset of feelings she had thought to have been long since stripped away by her own accord. Memories of being teased in elementary school; of that girl pulling her hair in sixth grade and Charlotte reflexively hitting her in the face; remembering sitting at the back of the classroom in her sophmore year at her old school when the fight broke out and a desk was thrown out the window next to her, smashing it.
Dredging up the past was not thing Charlotte ever liked to do, whether intentional or unintentional. As far as she was concerned, it had already happened, was unchangable, and had no place affecting her present like it did.
"I've spent most of my school life around people like you!" She shot out loudly, her voice far more angry than cold or sarcastic. The very sound of an emotion controlling her actions, even to this degree, frightened her, only made her more upset. That was precisely why she hated being forced to dwell on the past.
"You're no different than dozens of others, so DON'T assume what I do and do not know about this, or WHY I would know it in the first place!"
A few deep breaths and the junior managed to calm her surge of anger, turning away from Dante again, beginning to feel sickened on the account of her moderate loss of her normally level-headed nature.
And then the intorversion starts again.
