07-14-2008, 02:32 PM
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AW, Halifax.
He seemed to hold his life at arm's length. Everything that happened seemed to happen on its own, whether positive or negative. The details of his own mind, what he thought and what he felt, seemed too hazy and generally illogical. There was no reason for anything, no sense of order that he could understand. Or well, conclusions weren't that hard to jump to, but the state of his own emotions was in such an unintelligible mess that all assertions were dependent on a dozen things that had no concrete answer. Stepping back from the heat of the moment and spontaneous actions, he couldn't analyze anything. Even thoughts and realizations seemed to hinge entirely on fleeting moments. What seemed to make sense one minute did not carry over into the next. It seemed like such a precarious way to live.
He didn't know if he was happy or unhappy; the words simply didn't seem applicable to his life. But he was starting to think that it didn't really matter. What he felt seemed so far away anyway, and if he wasn't unhappy, then why really concern himself with it? What did it really matter in the end? He had become a nihilist once again, it seemed. Just invest everything in those fleeting moments, though even they amounted to nothing in the end.
Laruku was slowly expanding the borders of the where he allowed himself to venture. The outskirts of the city now seemed to be fair ground, and today, he rummaging through the shelves of another bookstore, looking for a blank journal. The coyotewolf intended to write it again, the long and exhaustive history of his birth pack. Maybe it was a useless venture; after all, it wasn't like he had anyone to pass the knowledge to. In another generation or two, no one would remember Clouded Tears had ever existed, and really, perhaps it was for the better. Maybe he just wanted something to keep him busy. Or maybe, secretly, he wanted to hike back over the mountain one day to see what remained of his forest. If the graves were still there, perhaps he would bury the history in the dirt where his predecessors had decomposed. He didn't know if he really needed that feeling of closure, just like he didn't what he felt about anything else, but it couldn't hurt.
He seemed to hold his life at arm's length. Everything that happened seemed to happen on its own, whether positive or negative. The details of his own mind, what he thought and what he felt, seemed too hazy and generally illogical. There was no reason for anything, no sense of order that he could understand. Or well, conclusions weren't that hard to jump to, but the state of his own emotions was in such an unintelligible mess that all assertions were dependent on a dozen things that had no concrete answer. Stepping back from the heat of the moment and spontaneous actions, he couldn't analyze anything. Even thoughts and realizations seemed to hinge entirely on fleeting moments. What seemed to make sense one minute did not carry over into the next. It seemed like such a precarious way to live.
He didn't know if he was happy or unhappy; the words simply didn't seem applicable to his life. But he was starting to think that it didn't really matter. What he felt seemed so far away anyway, and if he wasn't unhappy, then why really concern himself with it? What did it really matter in the end? He had become a nihilist once again, it seemed. Just invest everything in those fleeting moments, though even they amounted to nothing in the end.
Laruku was slowly expanding the borders of the where he allowed himself to venture. The outskirts of the city now seemed to be fair ground, and today, he rummaging through the shelves of another bookstore, looking for a blank journal. The coyotewolf intended to write it again, the long and exhaustive history of his birth pack. Maybe it was a useless venture; after all, it wasn't like he had anyone to pass the knowledge to. In another generation or two, no one would remember Clouded Tears had ever existed, and really, perhaps it was for the better. Maybe he just wanted something to keep him busy. Or maybe, secretly, he wanted to hike back over the mountain one day to see what remained of his forest. If the graves were still there, perhaps he would bury the history in the dirt where his predecessors had decomposed. He didn't know if he really needed that feeling of closure, just like he didn't what he felt about anything else, but it couldn't hurt.