[It's so ... pedestrian, at first, the murmur almost shudders from an absence of reaction, a rubber band pulled taut and released; a pin taken to a balloon which does not pop.
Revenge. A useless, unnecessary venture. The rage squeezes at his throat, chokes him, and for all the anticipation she'd felt earlier, the razor wire he awaited with bated breath only grazes dully, and cool disappointment seeps out, freezerburned.
A flash of an image, a dying boy burning himself down to the wick, as though the fire could produce more wax.
Foolish. So foolish. But then -- all the fire is gone, like it was never there. The magician disappeared with her flames, leaving behind the rabbit pulled out of a hat. He smiles, then. Good. A leashed, caged beast is infinitely more dangerous than one which is allowed to run wild and free.]
A friend of mine once brought me to an interesting take on a story, you know.
[A sudden left turn in conversation. A non-sequitur? Hard to tell. He keeps talking, all the same.]
That when Snow White ate the poison apple, she knew what she was doing. She ate the apple out of despair, the kind inherent to living. The weight of the world.
...It sounds extreme, but when you think about it, there are poisoned apples we bite into willingly all the time, aren't there? Choices we expect to regret, instant gratification over long-term satisfaction, spite and pettiness. Pursuit of meaning, fulfillment, peace. Poisons downed willingly as medicine.
cw: suicide reference
Revenge. A useless, unnecessary venture. The rage squeezes at his throat, chokes him, and for all the anticipation she'd felt earlier, the razor wire he awaited with bated breath only grazes dully, and cool disappointment seeps out, freezerburned.
A flash of an image, a dying boy burning himself down to the wick, as though the fire could produce more wax.
Foolish. So foolish. But then -- all the fire is gone, like it was never there. The magician disappeared with her flames, leaving behind the rabbit pulled out of a hat. He smiles, then. Good. A leashed, caged beast is infinitely more dangerous than one which is allowed to run wild and free.]
A friend of mine once brought me to an interesting take on a story, you know.
[A sudden left turn in conversation. A non-sequitur? Hard to tell. He keeps talking, all the same.]
That when Snow White ate the poison apple, she knew what she was doing. She ate the apple out of despair, the kind inherent to living. The weight of the world.
...It sounds extreme, but when you think about it, there are poisoned apples we bite into willingly all the time, aren't there? Choices we expect to regret, instant gratification over long-term satisfaction, spite and pettiness. Pursuit of meaning, fulfillment, peace. Poisons downed willingly as medicine.