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Doll With Broken Porcelain By: Thaddea Hunter on 12/11/2003; 12:51 PM She walked quietly into the Guidance Counselour's office, standing unsurely by the doorway, arms crossed around her waist protectively. "Namioka?" "Nami, sir," she replied softly. The man nodded. "Sit, sit, what do you want to talk about?" The fifteen year-old sat in the chair near his desk silently, taking a deep, ragged breath before answering. "I just want to talk and be listened to." "Alright, what about?" the man asked, typing in her name on the computer. "Me," "Classes are being scheduled next week for sophomores." "I know." "Oh. Did you want to take a co-op class?" "No, that's alright." "Okay then." He hit the down button on the keyboard a few times, hmm-ing to himself. The monitour sat in front of him and she could not see his face. "I, um, I really just came to talk." the girl continued on, hesitent. "Well go on, Namioka, nothing's stopping you," "My rationale is." she replied softly, still wondering if it was wise to be there. She did, however, begin to talk, barely above a whisper. "I'm not sure I'm really suppose to be here. On Earth, I mean. I wasn't suppose to bear the burdens I do, and I have to get them off my world-weary shoulders. I hope you don't mind." "Of course not. That's what I'm here for," the high-school conselour said. "Alright... um... I guess I should start with what I am... and blurr it into who I am... I am a rock." "That's a very interesting thing to say." "I am. I am the rock the world sits upon when they fall into the stream. The island when they lose their way amoung the sea's waves, a cave in the mountain. I am the glue that... that binds and holds humanity together." "Uh huh." "It's true. Whenever someone has a problem, they come to me, cry on my welcoming shoulder, talk to my friendly ears and hear what kind words I have to speak. The world relies on me and I suppose that's alright and all... but, it leaves me no room for error. It also does not give me my own shelter. "Eventually, though, that rock becomes a mere pebble, that island a sandbar covered by water. Blood red water in which message bottles and ship-wrecked pieces float past, searching for me. It's not that bad, I guess, because one day that pebble will join another to become a mountain again, that single snowflake will come together with another to make a blanket for the world. Sand will come and add on to that island to let it rise above the waters again, and I will once again be bombarded with the problems of the world." "Okay." "So you see? I can hide and run all I want, but I always come back, I'm always found again. People come to me for help and I give it to them, for that is my gift, but it is also my curse. For when I am burdened with the weights of others, and then my own, I cannot carry that load and have no Simon to help [1]." "I see." "It's not that whole dying and rebirth thing I'm upset about, it's not that everyone runs to me when they break a nail... it's not even who I am that bothers me, really, it's the fact that I have no one to run to... so I must be so strong, so godly that I cannot act human..." "I agree." "You know, I'm taking Psychology right now. In one of the first units we did, we studied personality, learning about Rorshach inkblots and all. Miz A, she let us draw for about fifteen minutes, told us to use colours while drawing a house and a tree and a person [2]. She explained some of the general interpretations of the drawing, like how the house represented your family and the person was you and the tree was your life. "If the door to the house had a knob, your family is suppose to be generally open, and the window with curtains is the room you feel most safe in. The knots in the trees show where traumatic events in your life occured. The colour red is suppose to be anger and black is depression. Green is suppose to represent life, I suppose, but I had done the entire thing in shades of grey. "I had a sun in the background, half hidden by the horizon which was rolling hills of white. I don't rightly know whether was a setting sun or a rising one, but I suppose it can be taken either way. The house is a log cabin, the front door hanging inward on its hinges, with a single window. That window was curtained with black-out drapes, and there were stone steps, small, round stone steps leading up to the front door." "Go on, now." Click, click, clack. "I had a person, a girl, crying as she sat on a swing attatched to a branch of the tree. Oh, the tree, the tree!" The girl began to cry silently, unable to keep the stinging saline inside any longer. She had been holding them back for so long... "I don't know if it is a weeping willow or a cherry blossom tree, but, like the sun, I suppose it can be both because either explain me. "A weeping willow because it cries, it cries so silently, because it does not, can not, bend when the wind blows, howls so loudly. It can only stand straight and weep, all alone. The cherry blossom, because, if you've ever seen one, the petals of the bossoms are always only white or pink. There is a story that says this is because the tree sucks the blood from the earth from the fallen warriors that are buried beneath it. If the petals are red, then it lies on a battlefield, but if they are white, then the tree has not yet become its own grave. If that is true, my petals must be black because of all the red... [3]" "Interesting." "... A book and a rose lay beside the tree's roots... A book because I am a writer. I convey my feelings, portray myself into words which translate into pictures, and I can explain myself to others without anyone knowing... as for the rose... I suppose it's a symbol of my rebelious nature. I have strong views on things that might seem a bit... politically incorrect, culturally differed... "Why do people compare love to roses? They say love can never die, yet a rose can wilt, wither away and fall apart. If they aren't real... the glass roses can shattered and the plastic ones are dull and useless. I don't believe in love..." "Do continue." The girl took a deep breath, using the back of her turtleneck sleeve to wipe her eyes, smearing her delicate make-up. She barely noticed the results, though under usual circumstances, she would have been horrified. She was so out of it, so intune to her own little world, she didn't even realize she was rambling, making no sense as she jumped from subject to subject. "It's not right... that I have no one to lean on. Humans are imperfect, you have to expect them to break or bend or twist and warp sometime or another... At the end of that unit in Psych, we studied personas. They are what you show other people as your personality. I'm not quite sure if I even have a personality, I have so many innumerable personas, so many masks... but suppose, just suppose, I have no personas, and everything is actually my personality... "But I suppose I am just another Ayanami, then... if I am who I am... just some girl who can be replaced with another just like me, with the same name and face... the same place in the world... one that is irrelevent and unimportant, a sacrificial lamb, a pawn in some stupid game... [4] And I guess I could go out looking for someone like that, someone like me, so I too can talk and be heard. But technically, I guess, they would be going through the exact same things I do, feel the same way... and I, I just can't do that, I wouldn't wish my job on anyone..." "I understand completely." "Do you?" "Yes," he nodded, "It's alright. It's normal for kids your age to feel like that." "Is it normal to write that word 'fat' all over your body in black permanent marker and red lipstick? To cut and scratch yourself on purpose? To wish on stars every night that you don't wake up in the morning?" "Of course." Clickety-clickety-clackety-clack. "It's normal to wake up at four in the morning because you have nightmares that are really memories belonging to a soldier? To lie to the few people you trust most because you might hurt them with the truth?" "Yes, yes. It's part of growing up." "Oh." The girl looked at her tightly clasped hands. "Six feet tall monkeys arrived on Earth the other day, did you hear?" "I believe so." Her eyes darkened. "They have alien rats as slaves. They stole my head this morning, so I blew up their planet and sewed my head back on with dental floss without missing the bus to school." "That's very nice. It's always a pleasure to hear kids taking an interest in school." The girl drew a ragged breath, her eyes narrowing sharply as tears began falling again. She stood suddenly, pushing at the edge of the conselour's desk as hard as she could before storming out of the office. She didn't notice how the monitour wobbled or how the paper stack on the edge fell. She just knew how she felt - foolish, ashamed, angry and saddened. And confused. So very, very confused. The man jumped up and grabbed her arm as she tried to leave the Guidance Office. The secretary for the department stood as well, and the other conselours came out of their own offices. "What is it?" "What is it?" the girl cried out, trying to pull her arm away. "Conselours are suppose to help people, not make them worse! I pour my heart out to you and you don't even listen!" "I was listening," he argued. "I told you giant monkeys rule the world and you said that was interesting! I told you my head was sewed on with dental floss and you replied with, 'Oh, Namioka, that's normal for your age'!" The man stared at her, half sneering at her outburst because he realized he had been caught. "And people wonder why I'm so messed up!" she continued, finally wrenching her arms away to cover her face with her hands. "No one cares about anything except for themselves. I've never questioned anyone before and now when I finally decide I should, no one bothers giving me respect at the very least!" She ran out, rushed down the hall and slammed the girl's bathroom door behind her before locking herself in an empty stall. She no longer cared if anyone heard her; if they did then they would know a piece of what she had to live for every day. Half wanting half dreading the time when someone came for her, she sat crying, using the tissue to wipe away all traces of her carefully applied make-up. She didn't care if someone thought she was ugly anymore. She threw off her heavy sweater to reveal the tight turtleneck underneath. She didn't care if someone thought she was fat anymore. All she wanted was to die. And then she realized that no one ever came for her. ***** owari [5] ***** Footnotes : [1] - For when I am ... no Simon to help - A reference to something called the Bible. When this guy Jesus was being led to Cavalry Hill to be executed, he could not carry his cross after going through so much for the sake of others, so the Romans pulled a man out of the crowd by the name of Simon and forced him to help bear the weight of the heavy cross on his shoulders. [2] - drawing a house ... and a person - The house-tree-person test is used by multiple social worker careers to see what a person's personality is like. All that is explained afterwards is true. [3] - The cherry blossoms ... all the red - It's a myth of Japan and is used in some literature, but most of them don't use this version as a reference. [4] - But I suppose I am ... some stupid game - A reference to the wickedly cool anime Neon Genesis Evangelion. Rei Ayanami was a clone of a scientist, the second actually. There was one before her and an uncounted amount afterwards, though only one was shown, the second (current) one dying in attempts to save Shinji so he could save the world, though it was all in vain. They all have the same mission, body, voice, name and home, but different personalities. [5] - owari - 'Owari' is Japanese for 'the end'
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