far away from the memories of the people who care if i live or die

Post 20 :: quotes :: a poisonwood walk :: who am i?


I


These are a little different than the regular quotes, but I thought them interesting all the same. I edited the punctuation of the first one from manga format to a written one. The second one probably sounds a little strange, but it was... interesting to me.


"But... the truth is... I miss him. I want to see him, spend earnest hours talking nonsense, holding each other... and kissing.

I hold on tight to my bravado, worried that if I make the first move, it will be denied. Worrying about when we'll be able to meet next. Worrying how long I should wait for him.

Isn't it a sign that it's over between two people the moment one thinks, 'I'm tired of all this'?"

~Shungiku Nakamura


"Stop doing this to me! This isn't a joke, you asshole! Haven't you done enough?! I've been a mess since the day I met you! I've become the type of person I most despise! What are you going to do about it?

I'd be such a calm, rational, normal person if I'd never met you! So why do you have to go and make me fall to pieces like this?!


--I love you."

~Shungiku Nakamura


"Now I need you, despite the fact that you've killed all my plants. And though I know I've already blown more chances than anyone should ever get... All I'm asking you is: Don't write me off just yet.

Don't write me off just yet."

~Music and Lyrics


"You are better than butter on bread. If you were a sweater, I'd wear you on my head."

~Ima Robot, Hello I Love You
(This song totally makes me smile. Give it a listen, if you can!)


"I've been looking for someone to shed some light, not somebody just to get me through the night."

~Music and Lyrics


II


On Thursday (I think) our English class did an activity in which we were required to take a walk through campus and write about it through the eyes of a character from the book. (The Poisonwood Bible) Here's a bit about our school campus, written from the viewpoint of Rachel Price.

" When we got on-board the plane out of the Congo, I thought man oh man, I would finally see my home again. Breck Special Formulated and Dial soap and everything else we'd not thought to bring. But no, law! We skipped on past sweet Georgia to come to this "Honolulu." Man oh man, it was better than the Congo, no doubt, but the sun glared at me from its high-and-mighty post in the empty sky--I could feel my temples starting to pound like drums with the beginnings of a tension headache.

I admit, it was a right lot better than the foul, rank Congo, where you could choke on the air itself. But it was different. Here, I was the one who had neither a bath nor anything that smelled what could be called "good" in a long while. Even in my best green linen suit, I felt their strange dark eyes follow me as they whispered when they thought I had gone out of hearing--if you ask me, they were the strange ones. Dark hair, dark eyes, the very antithesis of my own snow-white hair, which was so fine that the humidity here made it to frizz and tangle like the devil.

Father would never understand this campus and its classes or the students and the way they dress, speak, carry themselves. He'd name them all sinners, right down pat. The girls walking around in shirts that cover barely enough stomach to seem halfway decent, the boys with their pants falling down past their hips, exposing whatever printed undergarments they happened to want to exhibit, charming--at least they knew that a red plaid most certainly did not match a pink floral print. Jeans and trousers and color coordination--it has been forever since I have seen women who cover their breasts in public.

I rather dislike this humidity and bright sunshine and loud noises that seem to make up every moment here on this school campus. While we're on the subject, I disliked the entire stay in the Congo, where bitter quinine and tangled netting were utter necessities over fashion sense and a pink mohair twin set. But jeez oh man! Here is much better than that dank and horrid Congo.

At least here, my nose doesn't scream for those five-day deodorant pads I'd forgotten to pack when we were packed up and shipped off to the Congo. "

I tried to be "Rachel" for this activity, but... You know, it really would be lying to say I'm not like her at all, but I just couldn't seem to get into that mood. Yeah, I'm just making excuses. Yep. I just couldn't write like Kingsolver wrote her. Not at all.

-_____-|||


III


Lately, I've been so caught up in thoughts of whether or not people are mad at me that I'm losing track of what should be important; I never actually let loose. At everything I say, I stop and wonder if I've crossed an invisible line that shouldn't have been crossed. If I've done something to lower their opinions of me. I can't seem to relax and have fun, and this is spilling over into everything I do. A big, nasty oil stain on the expanse of my life. This feeling I have is visible, more than I know, and although I try to reign it in, it only becomes more clear. The people around are beginning to realize how much of a fraud I really am, and it scares me so much that all I want to do is hide with my head beneath the sheets until it's all over.

Nowadays, I realize more and more that the person I am isn't who I want to be.

But as I stop and think for more than just the initial spark, I think: Is the person I want to be the person I want to be? Or is that person someone I should be? The more I think about it, the less I understand. I know I shouldn't act according to what others think, that I should act the way I feel and less the way society dictates. I know that. I know. But why is it that if I do, I'll lose all I want to hold on to?

I know if I met myself in another form, I'd definitely hate myself. In a nutshell, I'm presumptuous, nosy, arrogant, and stupid. How should I change this? Should I change it? Yes, I should; that answer is evident. I don't know why I couldn't have been born a good child, born someone who knows what they want, knows who they are, knows how to act. What to change, what to follow, what to fight. What do I do? How can I change?

I have to try. I want so dearly to hold on to everything and everyone I hold close to my heart, but is that too selfish of me? Is that too selfish when I cannot fix the cracks in the glass panel of my window? When I don't know who I really am behind the mask quickly crumbling under the strain of years gone by? When all I can do is flounder about and hope that someone will save me, when I know no one can save me in my stead?