boar_expert | Entries tagged with quotethis: application

Ah, 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

Let us so live that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry.

She regretted everything and nothing.

Kate’s whole life was nothing but lies, half truths, and transitions...moments between the events that should have counted for something, should have mattered in any other person’s existence. Then again, she’d always had a talent for slipping through the impossible spaces of the world...

With her hands stained bright red with blood, and her body worn to the bones with the fatigue of running, she held on to little else but the regret...the knowledge that somewhere, on some level, she still cared enough to be sorry for her sins. She still felt pain, she could still feel guilt...heart and soul, she wasn’t completely dead inside. Not yet, anyway.

Survival was priority number one...regret and remorse were the two only luxuries she allowed herself.

Until she kissed him.

It continued afterwards...ducking and dodging to find those safe harbors in motion. One moment to the next, even on the island she was always on the run. She told the half-truths...she told the lies.

It was the lies by the fire that she regretted now...the lies about missing his arms and his taste.

“I’m sorry I kissed you.”

“I’m not.”

And as long as she lived, Kate knew she would never be sorry again.

Muse: Kate Austen
Fandom: LOST
Words: 217