![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I'm not a loyal person.
I'm sure if I thought about it long or hard enough I could come up something like a story, or string enough words to make it sound more interesting and more forgivable. But it's not a more, it is a less. And a something lacking. I can't talk about it, without talking about it. Turn and twist words to take it away before it is even felt.
I wasn't loyal to my major, which was a small thing, but alarming all the same. All my life I'd wanting to study history. And not just how things are remembered, but how they got remembered in the first place. What I see next to what we see and what they see. What details get picked up, and why. And then I took a Physics class on a whim. And then another, and another, and I couldn't get enough. And I forgot the very thing I started out so intent to remember.
I left home without a single look back, even though I could feel my parents wave behind me the whole drive to LA. They wanted me to stay and I never gave a moment's thought to staying. And all Charles had been doing was trying to protect me. If I agreed with it or not, which I didn't? Past everything personal between us, there was the person underneath, hurting over what'd been done. And I turned my back on that. I turned my back on the personal too, of course, with Wesley. I spent weeks not being loyal to Charles in my head, long before I was disloyal in person. Wesley, in the hospital, unleashing all those words and ideas, not loyal enough to stay and wait till things were healed enough so he could at least talk back. Even Jasmine. I wonder if that all happened like it did because I was just the first to figure it out, or the first to turn my back. It's blurred and I can't tell which was before the other.
Though my history? My remembering? Could help me take a pretty good guess.
I'm sure if I thought about it long or hard enough I could come up something like a story, or string enough words to make it sound more interesting and more forgivable. But it's not a more, it is a less. And a something lacking. I can't talk about it, without talking about it. Turn and twist words to take it away before it is even felt.
I wasn't loyal to my major, which was a small thing, but alarming all the same. All my life I'd wanting to study history. And not just how things are remembered, but how they got remembered in the first place. What I see next to what we see and what they see. What details get picked up, and why. And then I took a Physics class on a whim. And then another, and another, and I couldn't get enough. And I forgot the very thing I started out so intent to remember.
I left home without a single look back, even though I could feel my parents wave behind me the whole drive to LA. They wanted me to stay and I never gave a moment's thought to staying. And all Charles had been doing was trying to protect me. If I agreed with it or not, which I didn't? Past everything personal between us, there was the person underneath, hurting over what'd been done. And I turned my back on that. I turned my back on the personal too, of course, with Wesley. I spent weeks not being loyal to Charles in my head, long before I was disloyal in person. Wesley, in the hospital, unleashing all those words and ideas, not loyal enough to stay and wait till things were healed enough so he could at least talk back. Even Jasmine. I wonder if that all happened like it did because I was just the first to figure it out, or the first to turn my back. It's blurred and I can't tell which was before the other.
Though my history? My remembering? Could help me take a pretty good guess.
