Pretty Wicked Things

Posted on 31 Oct 2013 @ 7:03pm by Nesh Saalm

285 words; about a 1 minute read

Computer.

I find it difficult to adjust to what is happening around me. My sister...I do love her. I do. And it is difficult to explain the emotions I felt knowing how weak she is, physically. And fragile. The attack was like...what do they call it...

Thunder and lightning.

And it was so frightening. I just feel this...darkness, lack of light. A chill through my spine, into my heart. I can't explain it in any other way.

All the small pretty little things that made the Galileo a home for so many have fallen apart. It's like it is in the past. And now there is only...wicked little things. Not that pretty anymore, is it? This world. The machine stuck in the organic. It's not an improvement, trust me. And I can't find beauty in it.

I won't tell Lirha this, but I was crying. When I heard she wasn't her, I cried. And I felt as if we had been cursed. And I hate the Borg. I hate the Borg so much. If I could make a wish and wipe them out, I would.

But thing is, this means that I am...

Well.

Not the same, am I? I am not anymore...this teenager. The world is creeping in, like rain seeping down a window, getting into cracks of things. It's real. This is all real and here I am.

Stuck with the pretty little things, right? Or pretty wicked things. Depending how you view it.

So. Here I am. Nesh Saalm. Orion. Teenager. Student. Scientist. Haberdasher. Mental. Insane. And forever changing. And maybe that is the issue.

Maybe the pretty wicked thing I struggle with the most is myself.

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