[QuoteThis] JANUARY: Arthur Dent Quote
Jan. 23rd, 2008 09:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
boar_expertAh, this is obviously some strange usage of the word 'safe' that I wasn't previously aware of.
If you think about it? That really is a strange word...safe. Safety. What does the word mean when you think about it? You probably think about a person or a place...maybe a thing that makes you feel secure. There’s warmth in a loved one’s arms, familiarity in the fleecy softness of a comfortable blanket, a refuge to be found in your childhood home.
Now...kill the owner of those arms. Tear down that house. Shred that blanket. Where’s your safe haven now? Where’s your comfort?
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that nothing is safe...there’s no recourse that can ever last, no sanctuary in anything that you can touch. Real safety, true safety...it’s a pipe dream. It can never really happen, because the surety, the solidarity that anything safe brings to you is always vulnerable. It can be taken away in the span of a heartbeat...as quick as a breath, you’re left with nowhere to go.
No other choice but to run.
Looked at one way, you could say that safety doesn’t actually exist at all. Only...I don’t think it’s true. Granted, I don’t look for safety anywhere given my situation...I know I won’t find any. But I do have things that make me feel safe...one thing really.
I’m safe in the knowledge that I’m here...that I’m standing. And that I’ve left something of myself in the world.
[private]
I’m safe because I’ve been seen...because I know that no matter where I go or what I do, I’ve been touched by something that has made me better.
I’m safe because been touched by something good...because Jack loves me.
And I love him.
[/private]
Muse: Kate Austen
Fandom: LOST
Words: 285
If you think about it? That really is a strange word...safe. Safety. What does the word mean when you think about it? You probably think about a person or a place...maybe a thing that makes you feel secure. There’s warmth in a loved one’s arms, familiarity in the fleecy softness of a comfortable blanket, a refuge to be found in your childhood home.
Now...kill the owner of those arms. Tear down that house. Shred that blanket. Where’s your safe haven now? Where’s your comfort?
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that nothing is safe...there’s no recourse that can ever last, no sanctuary in anything that you can touch. Real safety, true safety...it’s a pipe dream. It can never really happen, because the surety, the solidarity that anything safe brings to you is always vulnerable. It can be taken away in the span of a heartbeat...as quick as a breath, you’re left with nowhere to go.
No other choice but to run.
Looked at one way, you could say that safety doesn’t actually exist at all. Only...I don’t think it’s true. Granted, I don’t look for safety anywhere given my situation...I know I won’t find any. But I do have things that make me feel safe...one thing really.
I’m safe in the knowledge that I’m here...that I’m standing. And that I’ve left something of myself in the world.
[private]
I’m safe because I’ve been seen...because I know that no matter where I go or what I do, I’ve been touched by something that has made me better.
I’m safe because been touched by something good...because Jack loves me.
And I love him.
[/private]
Muse: Kate Austen
Fandom: LOST
Words: 285
