People ask me what my talents are sometimes. I don't know what to tell them really. I read. I can picture things in my head perfectly. I can focus so hard on not being somewhere that I nearly disappear. I can read people like I read books, if I want to, if it's fair for me to do, if they're trying to get people to read them. I can help you feel less broken, if you give me time and silence, if you trust me with your heart.
Those are never the things they mean.
They mean things like writing poetry and designing my room myself and painting and arranging flowers and whatever else I do that's talent. Lady-like things. Things they can approve of in the public eye.
I like those things, too.
I guess because when I touch things, make them or alter them, I leave them with me. I leave a piece of myself there; a little breath of the things they--the people who ask these questions--don't approve of. That way, the little breath of Ether I have in me--the things I touch, they have it, too.
If I were feeling very Queen-like today, I'd go into an explanation of "Channeling"--touching things to make them change, into whatever I want them to. Not just physical ones, but abstract ones, too.
Today, when I'm sitting in my room, nodding along to Panic at the Disco and reading books in my not-quite-clean room, the idea of me being anything noble is, quite frankly, laughable.
But only today.
I know better than to think this lasts. Part of my mind is on edge, waiting to be forced back up into it all like I were a speck of dust on the stage floor and a bearded Jacob will be here any minute, sweeping me up.
My point is?
I... like... leaving a breath of Ether.
If I surround things, people, ideas with me, make them feel me as I am, that way I don't have to be alone. I never have to be alone if I can feel things as they really are, I can surround myself with Ether so strong you can smell it, feel it, taste it, touch it.
Some days I can almost believe it.
Some days.
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