Post by WILLOW EMBER CARMICHAEL on Aug 23, 2014 20:41:37 GMT -6
[googlefont="Yanone Kaffeesatz:400"]
Two little redheads stood on the front porch of a typical suburban lawn. It was the first time either of them had been in typical suburbia, a place they would spend for quite some time. This was their new home. Of course, the youngest had no concept of home anyways. She just knew, as she clutched her sister’s hand that she wasn’t supposed to ever let go.
You never felt like you belonged, not really. There was always something off about your relationship with your parents. You weren’t sure what it was, but when your sister finally broke down and told you that there was someone else in the world that birthed you, you had to wonder. Your parents were average, painfully so. And while you thought your sister fit in with them, you felt drawn to a world of wonder and excitement that she didn’t seem to have. She was concentrated on doing well in school, you were concentrated on staring out the window and doodling absently. There was always something more for you in the world and you always wanted to know what it was. Perhaps the odd, emptiness was the lack of knowing your real parents, but you still had your sister? Even if you didn’t think that you and your sister were cut from the same cloth either.
Better Than Her Best
The petite redheaded girl casually slid a roll of parchment into the bin as she settled another, fresh one onto the professors desk. She knew it wasn’t good to cheat, but this wasn’t cheating for her benefit so that wasn’t the same. She was just trying to help her sister. It seemed that everything she did these days was to help her sister. She hoped this would work out.
You didn’t try to be better, it always just sort of happened. You seemed to do nothing but step on River’s toes. In absolutely everything that you did. From something as simple as getting put into the House at school she’d wanted, which wasn’t your fault at all, to – sleeping with her fiancé just before she broke off the engagement – which was most certainly your fault. You hated yourself for being better and you honestly tried to underachieve in everything that you did. You went our of your way to make yourself seem stupid, to seem – worse than you actually were. Anything to make River look – better. And really to keep yourself out of the spotlight. It hadn’t ever suited you, you weren’t good in living in it, but – you couldn’t seem to escape.
Keep a Secret
The woman always glanced over her shoulder as she walked through the corridor to the door of her department. Going into work shouldn’t’ feel this dangerous. But it was sort of exhilarating. She loved what she did, because there was no spotlight any longer. There wasn’t even a search light. Everything she did was shrouded in mystery, but unfortunately the secrecy drove the wedge further between you and your sister. She could feel her hand slipping out of hers.
You liked working in private, quietly, doing your own thing. You liked that you got to be brooding a lot of the time, because everyone else your worked with was rather brooding as well. Nobody knew what anyone else was working on, and you liked it that way. The secret smile that you’d carried with you for your entire life finally came in handy. You were still – wanting for something more, searching endlessly for the one thing that you might actually be fulfilled. A lot of what you want, you’ve decided, is to know more. You’ve always quested for knowledge and it had always been a private venture, but never a personal one. Perhaps all you needed was to learn a little more about who you were. After all, every twenty something was on a quest to find themselves, you were just going to have a worse time of it than most.
I always feel wrong. I don’t live in the right house with the right family. And even before someone told me that, it was like I knew, like I was always just a little out of place. And once I knew the feeling just got worse because then I knew I was wrong. But River was right. My sister was my sister, but with her I always felt wrong too. Wrong for being right. Because I was always everything and she was always nothing and there was never any justice in that. Never a right way for things to go. The people around me make me feel very – out of place too. Like I’m the puzzle piece from the wrong puzzle that someone’s trying to make – work out. I know a lot of it has to do with the fact that I don’t know who my parents are or were, but there’s more to the story. I’m a little lost girl and the things I do have tying me to my past are slowly slipping through my fingers.
I do not do motivation well. I literally want nothing to do with the world, so I try my best not to do it. I didn’t turn in work in school in hopes that I wouldn’t get attention, but it got me attention, the wrong sort of attention. I didn’t ever go out of my way to make friends, but for some reason the odd, grumpy, loner girl was interesting and in not trying, I found myself surrounded by people who were trying their hardest to not try as well. I never wanted to date, never wanted to exert the effort, or dress up or be pretty, and for some reason that attracted attention. I was known for being real or raw or whatever word it was when people realized that I didn’t paint my face on every morning and that I’d been sewing patches in my jeans so as to avoid new ones.
I am non-committal. The fact of the matter is, I don’t want to grow up because being an adult is nothing but making choices. You choose the job that you’ll have for the rest of your life, the partner you’ll love, and start having children that you’re obligated to hold on to – unless you’re my parents in which care you abandon them. Growing up is the ultimate form of commitment. I don’t even have a job title. I picked the one place in the wizarding world where even my title was a non-commitment. I’m an unspeakable, but not even I really know that that means. And I like it that way. Like being thrown on various projects for no reason at all.
I will not grow up until I know who I’m supposed to be.[/PTab={background-color:#444; font-size:9px;padding:5px;color:#fff;tab-hover-background-color:#000;tab-selected-background-color:#000;}][/PTabbedContent={width:400px;color:#fff; font-size:9px;animation:fade;tab-hover-background-color:#000;tab-selected-background-color:#000;tab-background-color:#000;}]
willow e. CARMICHAEL
RIFF || est || pm or aim
[PTabbedContent][PTab=I]twenty
neutral
muggleborn
ravenclaw
unspeakable
ebba zingmark
[/PTab={background-color:#444444; font-size:9px;padding:5px;tab-hover-background-color:#000;tab-selected-background-color:#000;}height:82px;][PTab=II]▼
Left BehindTwo little redheads stood on the front porch of a typical suburban lawn. It was the first time either of them had been in typical suburbia, a place they would spend for quite some time. This was their new home. Of course, the youngest had no concept of home anyways. She just knew, as she clutched her sister’s hand that she wasn’t supposed to ever let go.
You never felt like you belonged, not really. There was always something off about your relationship with your parents. You weren’t sure what it was, but when your sister finally broke down and told you that there was someone else in the world that birthed you, you had to wonder. Your parents were average, painfully so. And while you thought your sister fit in with them, you felt drawn to a world of wonder and excitement that she didn’t seem to have. She was concentrated on doing well in school, you were concentrated on staring out the window and doodling absently. There was always something more for you in the world and you always wanted to know what it was. Perhaps the odd, emptiness was the lack of knowing your real parents, but you still had your sister? Even if you didn’t think that you and your sister were cut from the same cloth either.
Better Than Her Best
The petite redheaded girl casually slid a roll of parchment into the bin as she settled another, fresh one onto the professors desk. She knew it wasn’t good to cheat, but this wasn’t cheating for her benefit so that wasn’t the same. She was just trying to help her sister. It seemed that everything she did these days was to help her sister. She hoped this would work out.
You didn’t try to be better, it always just sort of happened. You seemed to do nothing but step on River’s toes. In absolutely everything that you did. From something as simple as getting put into the House at school she’d wanted, which wasn’t your fault at all, to – sleeping with her fiancé just before she broke off the engagement – which was most certainly your fault. You hated yourself for being better and you honestly tried to underachieve in everything that you did. You went our of your way to make yourself seem stupid, to seem – worse than you actually were. Anything to make River look – better. And really to keep yourself out of the spotlight. It hadn’t ever suited you, you weren’t good in living in it, but – you couldn’t seem to escape.
Keep a Secret
The woman always glanced over her shoulder as she walked through the corridor to the door of her department. Going into work shouldn’t’ feel this dangerous. But it was sort of exhilarating. She loved what she did, because there was no spotlight any longer. There wasn’t even a search light. Everything she did was shrouded in mystery, but unfortunately the secrecy drove the wedge further between you and your sister. She could feel her hand slipping out of hers.
You liked working in private, quietly, doing your own thing. You liked that you got to be brooding a lot of the time, because everyone else your worked with was rather brooding as well. Nobody knew what anyone else was working on, and you liked it that way. The secret smile that you’d carried with you for your entire life finally came in handy. You were still – wanting for something more, searching endlessly for the one thing that you might actually be fulfilled. A lot of what you want, you’ve decided, is to know more. You’ve always quested for knowledge and it had always been a private venture, but never a personal one. Perhaps all you needed was to learn a little more about who you were. After all, every twenty something was on a quest to find themselves, you were just going to have a worse time of it than most.
I always feel wrong. I don’t live in the right house with the right family. And even before someone told me that, it was like I knew, like I was always just a little out of place. And once I knew the feeling just got worse because then I knew I was wrong. But River was right. My sister was my sister, but with her I always felt wrong too. Wrong for being right. Because I was always everything and she was always nothing and there was never any justice in that. Never a right way for things to go. The people around me make me feel very – out of place too. Like I’m the puzzle piece from the wrong puzzle that someone’s trying to make – work out. I know a lot of it has to do with the fact that I don’t know who my parents are or were, but there’s more to the story. I’m a little lost girl and the things I do have tying me to my past are slowly slipping through my fingers.
I do not do motivation well. I literally want nothing to do with the world, so I try my best not to do it. I didn’t turn in work in school in hopes that I wouldn’t get attention, but it got me attention, the wrong sort of attention. I didn’t ever go out of my way to make friends, but for some reason the odd, grumpy, loner girl was interesting and in not trying, I found myself surrounded by people who were trying their hardest to not try as well. I never wanted to date, never wanted to exert the effort, or dress up or be pretty, and for some reason that attracted attention. I was known for being real or raw or whatever word it was when people realized that I didn’t paint my face on every morning and that I’d been sewing patches in my jeans so as to avoid new ones.
I am non-committal. The fact of the matter is, I don’t want to grow up because being an adult is nothing but making choices. You choose the job that you’ll have for the rest of your life, the partner you’ll love, and start having children that you’re obligated to hold on to – unless you’re my parents in which care you abandon them. Growing up is the ultimate form of commitment. I don’t even have a job title. I picked the one place in the wizarding world where even my title was a non-commitment. I’m an unspeakable, but not even I really know that that means. And I like it that way. Like being thrown on various projects for no reason at all.
I will not grow up until I know who I’m supposed to be.
