Her eyes look empty, now. Not full of intelligence like they used to be.That didn’t happen overnight
Her eyes look empty, now. Not full of intelligence like they used to be.That didn’t happen overnight. None of this happened overnight. It was gradual. Little by little she was pulled away from what she was and gently pushed towards what she is now, what she was always meant to be. Corrected, you might say.By the time she noticed what was happening it was already far too late. She knew what was going on and what she was going to end up being, but she also knew - had it burnt as a fact into her brain - that she would have to ask permission for it to stop.And she did. And she was refused. Correction continued.That’s all passed, now. There’s no going back. She doesn’t want to go back now. What little bits of the old hers he can remember are scary to her now, confusing. She wants to forget them. She says thank you every time another scary, confusing memory is scrubbed out from her head. She says thank you and smiles a little wider, lets out that vapid little moan she makes so often these days.And if you look in her eyes now you won’t see much of anything at all. Adoration, maybe, a simple and bovine kind of love. The love of something that wants to be told it’s good, to get a pat on the head.If you look very closely though - very closely indeed - you might have just a little glimmer of something. Just a hint. And do you know what that is?It’s the last hint of shame. The very last fragment of awareness she has that she used to be another way, that she used to be more than this, could have been more than this. It’s small, but it’s there.I’d have a look for it now, if I were you.Come back tomorrow, it won’t be there. -- source link
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