This was a piece of orginial writing which I adapted in order to turn it into a fic when I saw how easily it could be done (it might be a bit off because of this). Still working on the original, I'm not sure if it'll ever be finished.
by M.E. (Magnificent Entity) Epiphany #1: Regarding Perfection I remember that we were all a little high when it came up, the combined result of too much sugar and a definite lack of sleep. Everyone had abandoned their walls and masks for the night, and was yaking away, sharing deep, heartfelt secrets without even stopping to think about what the consequences might be the next day. Well, that is, everyone but you. That's one of the ways that you're different from the rest of us– while we all cry on your shoulder, you never come and use ours, even though we continually offer. Sometimes it seems as if you don't actually have any of our petty problems, that you're somehow above all that, beyond it in some strange way. I've always admired it in you, that crystal of near perfection, never fading, never breaking. To you, we must all seem like simple-minded fools, our flaws obvious, gaping. Mine most obvious of all, at least to our companions, if not to you. That night, I wasn't even thinking about my basic flaw. In fact, at that time I hadn't even discovered it yet, it was still lying in wait for me, doing nothing more than sending me hints in my dreams. No, that night I was sprawled out on my bed, staring at you in wonder, watching as you sheepishly broke down a bit and showed us for the first time that you weren't perfect. Don't get me wrong here, you've told us time and time again that you're not, but we always just watch you, not really hearing your words, wondering where you come up with such delusional ideas. You'd never given us any true reason to doubt your perfection until that night. The dim lighting of the room hid your face in shadow, making it impossible to see the expression on your face as you spoke softly, for the first time showing us your imperfections. You were afraid– afraid about what was happening in the world, about your part in it, and above all, what would happen to you when this was all over, and we were out in the world, on our own... It was a fear that we'd all had, though one that we'd been afraid to voice. Hearing the pain in your voice, I leaned over, embracing you, burying my face in your shoulder, saying that you were my best friend, and not to worry, because we'd always be there together, now, and afterwards, if it was okay with you. And though I seemed to be smiling, inside I was miserable, ashamed of my own worries and fears. Somehow, in admitting your own fear, you only became more perfect.
Epiphany #2: Subconscious Message It really started with the dreams, I think, though I'm not positive. Simple dreams about me... and sometimes you. When you started showing up in my dreams, I wasn't all that surprised. You were my best friend, of course you would be in my dreams; pure and simple logic. So I went about my daily business, mostly ignoring the dreams, remembering them only when they were especially interesting. Occasionally, when it suited me, I would tell you and the others about them. Sometimes I would just tell you. But then the dreams changed, and they took on a new aspect, one I hadn't seen before. In the new aspect you played a new role, one opposite of your nature. Or maybe I was in the new role, I really can't recall it all now, it was ages ago... wait, I remember. It was me. At first I thought it just another one of those weird things that happen in dreams on a regular basis. Like in the poem, "i dreamt my brother was a cat but he was not a cat and he was the wrong cat." You can be anything and everything, and at the same time you're not. So I really didn't pay attention to the change. Eventually, I began to realize that there might actually be some purpose, some design behind the change. Maybe this realization began when you started interacting with the changed-me in my dreams, when our dream-fates somehow became intertwined. It has been said that dreams are actually your brain's attempt at processing all the information it has acquired throughout the day. Others say that they are actually predictions of the future, citing deja vú as an example. Finally, there are still others who have a theory that dreams are messages from your subconscious to your conscious. Keeping all of this in mind, I considered the dreams. At last, I came to the following conclusions: My brain was trying to store information on how I felt towards you. The dreams were a prediction of what my future relationship with you would be like. They were messages from my subconscious pointing out feelings that I was hiding from myself.
Epiphany #3: Missed Chance Then it all ended, at long last. We were free to pursue our own designs, not simply follow those paths already laid out for us. Different interests call to us, and we all set out to pursue different goals. Except for you and me. Before, we had decided that, whatever fate had in store for us, we would seek it together. But for some reason it didn't work out that way. You went on ahead, chasing after your dreams, and I was left behind, alone. Forgotten. No dream in mind, no future, no aspirations. Strangely enough, it was during a spell of half consciousness, one that I barely remember, that I realized the truth of the matter. I would not be following you. Instead, I would always be left behind, having had my one chance and missed it. I would not be riding off into the sunset beside you, and I would never get a chance to tell you how I felt. To you, I would always be your best friend, and nothing more. Nothing special. And you kept in touch, contacting me regularly, making sure I didn't sink all the the way into obscurity. Reaffirming my grip on reality and the world around me. I didn't realize how special this was at first. To me, it seemed logical for us to keep in touch, we had been best friends before, and, even though you were meeting new people and I was living in a box, there was no reason for us to not remain friends. Later on, I found out that you barely ever contacted the others, even though they were your friends as well. When I told them how you called constantly, they were even a bit jealous at first, but then they laughed it off, saying that they were not surprised. Of course you kept in touch with me regularly. Of course. So I turned this fact over and over in my mind, and I finally came to a conclusion. There are no epiphanies– only moments of understanding. --- |