| Visit our Bookstore |
|
|
|
|
Do You Think?
By Casshire
Click here if you'd like to exchange critiques
"Mrrfhm."
She shrugged flippantly in response to the message displayed on her computer
screen. The insistent blinking of a yellow icon, made to resemble what she
often thought was a letter, was stoically ignored. Her obstinence was
short-lived. In the following moment, she had reached forward, guiding the
mouse towards the image.
Click-click.
You promised me you'd do that fic *today*. ;_;
Canting her head, she permitted herself a thin-lipped smile, torn between
making a sudden departure and capitulating. In the end, after some
deliberation, she opted for the latter. It was just her way. Acquiscence
was delivered in the form of a similar message, eliciting a pleased
response. She smiled, accepting her fate. The dynamics of their relationship
involved a few constants - the most noteworthy was her inability to reject
the requests of her sibling. A finger lifted.
Not sibling. Not in the true sense. But just as important.
The other girl was her soul-sister, the biological sibling that had been
separated from her by circumstances. They shared many of the same interests,
the same passions. They told each other secrets. They trusted each other.
But every now and then, she got tired of surrendering to the other's whims.
It wasn't that she didn't like doing what was demanded of her -- namely,
writing but she was inclined towards other activities. Study, for example or
chatting with a seldom-viewed paramour. But the other girl would not
understand. She could not understand. In many ways, they were as different
as light and day.
She loved her soul-sister.
But she could get very frustrated at times.
Eyes danced across the books sprayed across her desk before they moved
towards another window, regarding the surreptitious message that had just
appeared with some bemusement. She would like to have spent time with her
beau. And with other pursuits. But there was the fic and the promise to
write it. She would have to do it first. It was their way. It was always
their way. She would love to inform her heartsibling that she had other
things to do, but that would only incur sulking and an endless deluge of
complaints. Why bother?
Why indeed.
Fingers flittered nimbly across the keyboard, typing out a curt observation.
It would hurt to receive her message. The words were carefully chosen to
hurt.
Heartsib, do you ever think I want a rest from this? I want to stop writing
for a while? I know this is *your* passion, but that's just it. I have other
obligations. I have other wants. I don't want this. I don't want to spend
all my time writing - it's restrictive. Give me a *rest*. I write
impulsively. Writing just isn't my life, as wonderful as it would be. You've
got your own dreams. I have mine. They just don't coincide, for the most
part.
If you love me ... give me a break.
She paused.
Closing her eyes, she clicked the cancel button. Love meant commitment.
Love also meant acceptance.
Even if it meant the extra pressure in an already stressful existence.
