I want to believe.
May 11, 2015 9:07:57 GMT -5
Post by styg on May 11, 2015 9:07:57 GMT -5
Deep in the bare shadows is the faint outline of a woman. She's standing up straight, legs together, hands clasped in front of her. Her manner radiates impassivity despite the veil hanging over her eyes.
"Brody Watts," she says slowly, and the little light caught by her veil dances as her jaw moves. "We've an individual with many opinions but few convictions. An individual who rejects accepted constructs - who has seen beyond the masques we weave around ourselves and call society. Brody Watts is an individual with nothing to live for and nothing to die for..."
She doesn't shift position, but the telltale exhalation of a single, smirking laugh is just audible.
"...that sounds familiar." Her head tilts one way, then the other. "You and me, Brody, you see.. we have something in common. We both understand the emptiness of existence... the futility of life... the meaninglessness of all things. Like you, Brody, I see the world for what it is: hollow. Devoid of purpose. There is no grand design. No kismet, no karma, no fate, no fortune. All of it is just... a trick of the light."
The darkness swims as she waves a gloved hand through the gloom.
"But there are shades of black, as I'm sure you know. Nothing is not constant; if it was, it would become something. When you stare into the void, there are two ways to react; one is to embrace it. To wear nothing like a cloak... or a shroud. Then there's the other way: to reject it. To reject rejection, the final expression of rejection. Nothingness is liberation. When nothing matters, when nothing has meaning... that is freedom. Power. Anything can have the meaning you want it to have. Unchained by convention, unbound by the restraints of others or oneself. Nothing is not something. No... nothing is everything." That single breath of laughter again. "Brody, it seems to me, has the first of those two reactions. He's an individual consumed by nothing. Overtaken by the void... an embodiment of entropic despair. Not fear - despair is not fear. I understand you perfectly when you reject fear. Fear is defined by what is, and Brody, you're defined by what isn't. I respect it. It's a quite acceptable response to the crushing weight that nothing bears."
Pause.
"As for me, as I'm sure some of those seeing this are wondering?"
Her hands open for a moment then come back together like a faltering heartbeat. "It depends on the day. Nothing is draining," she admits, "A lot more draining than something. I see friends, enemies, co-workers... they fight not because it's who they are, nor because it's what they do - as much as they might think that's why. They fight because they believe in something, even if it's only themselves. But you and I? We too fight not because it's who we are and what we do, but in our case - because neither is anything else. But truthfully? I'm looking for something to fight for, Brody. For something to live and die for. Or at least... some days I am; subject to the whim of nothing." She sighs. "I can't tell you what kind of day it'll be when we fight. For that I apologise. Not because I'm expected to, nor because I think you'll care, but because in the liberation of nothing I'm free to decide that that apology is meaningful, to me at least, and that's all that matters. And some meaning, well... it'll make the nothing all the heavier. And that... paradoxical as this may be... is something."
With that, we fade.
"Brody Watts," she says slowly, and the little light caught by her veil dances as her jaw moves. "We've an individual with many opinions but few convictions. An individual who rejects accepted constructs - who has seen beyond the masques we weave around ourselves and call society. Brody Watts is an individual with nothing to live for and nothing to die for..."
She doesn't shift position, but the telltale exhalation of a single, smirking laugh is just audible.
"...that sounds familiar." Her head tilts one way, then the other. "You and me, Brody, you see.. we have something in common. We both understand the emptiness of existence... the futility of life... the meaninglessness of all things. Like you, Brody, I see the world for what it is: hollow. Devoid of purpose. There is no grand design. No kismet, no karma, no fate, no fortune. All of it is just... a trick of the light."
The darkness swims as she waves a gloved hand through the gloom.
"But there are shades of black, as I'm sure you know. Nothing is not constant; if it was, it would become something. When you stare into the void, there are two ways to react; one is to embrace it. To wear nothing like a cloak... or a shroud. Then there's the other way: to reject it. To reject rejection, the final expression of rejection. Nothingness is liberation. When nothing matters, when nothing has meaning... that is freedom. Power. Anything can have the meaning you want it to have. Unchained by convention, unbound by the restraints of others or oneself. Nothing is not something. No... nothing is everything." That single breath of laughter again. "Brody, it seems to me, has the first of those two reactions. He's an individual consumed by nothing. Overtaken by the void... an embodiment of entropic despair. Not fear - despair is not fear. I understand you perfectly when you reject fear. Fear is defined by what is, and Brody, you're defined by what isn't. I respect it. It's a quite acceptable response to the crushing weight that nothing bears."
Pause.
"As for me, as I'm sure some of those seeing this are wondering?"
Her hands open for a moment then come back together like a faltering heartbeat. "It depends on the day. Nothing is draining," she admits, "A lot more draining than something. I see friends, enemies, co-workers... they fight not because it's who they are, nor because it's what they do - as much as they might think that's why. They fight because they believe in something, even if it's only themselves. But you and I? We too fight not because it's who we are and what we do, but in our case - because neither is anything else. But truthfully? I'm looking for something to fight for, Brody. For something to live and die for. Or at least... some days I am; subject to the whim of nothing." She sighs. "I can't tell you what kind of day it'll be when we fight. For that I apologise. Not because I'm expected to, nor because I think you'll care, but because in the liberation of nothing I'm free to decide that that apology is meaningful, to me at least, and that's all that matters. And some meaning, well... it'll make the nothing all the heavier. And that... paradoxical as this may be... is something."
With that, we fade.