"Be not afraid."
May. 29th, 2010 08:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
super_seme04AN: There is truth in all stories.
What does it take for you to believe in something?
Do you have to see it?
Touch it?
Taste?
Feel it trembling or bleeding beneath your fingers?
Or does it have to be told from the mouth of a mother or a lover?
Is it faith or fear that we believe in things that we might never see?
Is it because we need to be believe in something greater than ourselves?
Look around and the world is so fucked up that there has to be something better than this.
It's not about fearing death or damnation. It's about fearing life. What is there to live for, really? Everything, love, happiness, sex, pain, is very fleeting when you think about it. It's all just sensation and slickness being pushed through nerves and neurons so we know that we're alive.
Waitresses shouldn't care about such things.
It's my shift at the diner and there's a man wearing a trench coat despite the fact that it's summer.
In Texas.
He asked for the pie of the day and coffee and nothing else.
The girls want to find out his story, but I keep them away with the promise that they can split my tips.
This is only a temp job until classes start.
I'm pouring him another cup of coffee when he gently touches my hand.
"Thank you."
His voice is low and I don't meet his eyes as I smile.
"They're nosy..."
"Your kind is naturally curious."
"...Women or people in general?"
My mama would've swatted me for that if she was near.
He smiles and it's sudden and unexpected.
"Thank you."
He leaves and doesn't leave a tip.
I don't mind.
His eyes were blue and sad, but he had a nice smile.
----------------
Now playing: Mumford And Sons - I Gave You All
via FoxyTunes
What does it take for you to believe in something?
Do you have to see it?
Touch it?
Taste?
Feel it trembling or bleeding beneath your fingers?
Or does it have to be told from the mouth of a mother or a lover?
Is it faith or fear that we believe in things that we might never see?
Is it because we need to be believe in something greater than ourselves?
Look around and the world is so fucked up that there has to be something better than this.
It's not about fearing death or damnation. It's about fearing life. What is there to live for, really? Everything, love, happiness, sex, pain, is very fleeting when you think about it. It's all just sensation and slickness being pushed through nerves and neurons so we know that we're alive.
Waitresses shouldn't care about such things.
It's my shift at the diner and there's a man wearing a trench coat despite the fact that it's summer.
In Texas.
He asked for the pie of the day and coffee and nothing else.
The girls want to find out his story, but I keep them away with the promise that they can split my tips.
This is only a temp job until classes start.
I'm pouring him another cup of coffee when he gently touches my hand.
"Thank you."
His voice is low and I don't meet his eyes as I smile.
"They're nosy..."
"Your kind is naturally curious."
"...Women or people in general?"
My mama would've swatted me for that if she was near.
He smiles and it's sudden and unexpected.
"Thank you."
He leaves and doesn't leave a tip.
I don't mind.
His eyes were blue and sad, but he had a nice smile.
----------------
Now playing: Mumford And Sons - I Gave You All
via FoxyTunes
