It's not a very strong selling point, is it? Not a very winning argument at all. I don't think. There's no indelible proof that they're something incredible and unique, really, aside from what another child thinks in their own SOUL, in their own beaming heart of hearts. They think you're special. They think you're extraordinary. They think that you're someone who deserves to exist in your own right, without ever feeling like you should doubt the validity of your very being.
Things get lost. People get erased. Sometimes they're erased over time, rubbed out bit by bit. A name peeled away like the fading backing from a sticker, a favorite food that just becomes a permanent fixture in someone else's fridge. A best friend who becomes an ideal memory, because the person remembering them misses them so very, very much that all he can recall is the good. Murmurs and whispers of a child long dead, and a name engraved on an empty coffin. Pieces of them get lost over time, and little by little, they fade.
Some people are erased, not because they're forgettable, but because they weren't memorable enough to merit thinking about in the first place. Some people never get a chance to fade, because no one thought to imprint them in their mind. Mist and shadows, slipping in and out of the cracks of whichever lifetime this is or isn't, sliding like oil to the bottom of a pan. Unremembered. Unremarkable.
They don't think they're that easily replaceable. If they are, then - then why would anyone else be any different?
"And I don't want a copy, either." Maybe objectively, it makes things easier, the idea that you could fade away and no one would miss you.
But haven't they lived that reality enough times over?
no subject
It's not a very strong selling point, is it? Not a very winning argument at all. I don't think. There's no indelible proof that they're something incredible and unique, really, aside from what another child thinks in their own SOUL, in their own beaming heart of hearts. They think you're special. They think you're extraordinary. They think that you're someone who deserves to exist in your own right, without ever feeling like you should doubt the validity of your very being.
Things get lost. People get erased. Sometimes they're erased over time, rubbed out bit by bit. A name peeled away like the fading backing from a sticker, a favorite food that just becomes a permanent fixture in someone else's fridge. A best friend who becomes an ideal memory, because the person remembering them misses them so very, very much that all he can recall is the good. Murmurs and whispers of a child long dead, and a name engraved on an empty coffin. Pieces of them get lost over time, and little by little, they fade.
Some people are erased, not because they're forgettable, but because they weren't memorable enough to merit thinking about in the first place. Some people never get a chance to fade, because no one thought to imprint them in their mind. Mist and shadows, slipping in and out of the cracks of whichever lifetime this is or isn't, sliding like oil to the bottom of a pan. Unremembered. Unremarkable.
They don't think they're that easily replaceable. If they are, then - then why would anyone else be any different?
"And I don't want a copy, either." Maybe objectively, it makes things easier, the idea that you could fade away and no one would miss you.
But haven't they lived that reality enough times over?