[Ficlet] Reflectere
Posted: Fri Aug 27, 2004 6:08 pm
Written for www.livejournal.com/community/swabi700/ 's fifth challenge: Attraction. I like this one. I really do. 'Twas fun to take so many of the reasons that people give to justify hating Relena and then twist them up a bit. She's a dynamic character, damnit! So, yes, my biases come shining through in this one. ^_^;;
<B>Title</B>: Reflectere
<B>Author</B>: Smarty Cat
<B>Email</B>: smartycat9383@yahoo.com
<B>Date Completed</B>: August 21, 2004
<B>Word count</B>: 700 (perfect! *faints*)
<B>Summary</B>: Relena is only human. Heero is too. And humans, despite their many flaws, possess free will.
For all of my supposed wisdom beyond my years, I do not think I will ever understand the logic of attraction, of love. Which is no doubt to be expected as logic is anathema to them. There is something fundamentally wrong, something almost evil, to try to apply reason to one of the basest and most powerful human emotions.
And yet I find myself attempting to look at our relationship rationally, to determine what it is that draws me to him and him to me.
It is easy enough to pinpoint what is that I find attractive about him. He is physically stunning: that lithe figure, strong muscles, and dusky golden skin; alert posture; a face like a stern archangel; those amazing eyes. Then, of course, there is his air. He exudes mystery, challenge, and danger. He is the stuff of every young girl?s fantasy made flesh and blood and bone. I must not forget his mind, however. He is exceptionally intelligent and quite well educated in an array of unusual, even arcane, subjects. I could talk with him for hours and, after a little prodding on my part to get the conversation going, have done so.
He fascinates me like no other man I have ever known.
Yes, it is easy enough to see why I have been falling for him for years.
But what could he possibly see in me?
I am not beautiful. I have been told that often enough. My breasts are too small; my waist, hips, and legs are too thick. My hair is too dark and dull, closer to brown than blonde, and hopelessly straight. My bangs are too short, allowing all who see me to gaze upon my too thick eyebrows. My nose is too upturned, and my lips are too thin.
I am no great beauty. But when he looks at me the way he sometimes does... I feel like one. Which is all the more silly as he is a man to value utility far more than aesthetics. Every little thing that I would agonize over regarding my appearance he would brush aside. I can almost hear him now. If it does not adversely affect my vision why should I care that my eyes are not perfectly level?
Then, of course, there are my less tangible shortcomings. I have heard them expounded on in great detail as well. I am too experienced and worldly for my age but too naive to recognize the true evil of the world around me. I am too forgiving and too indecisive but too stubborn to admit when my principles and beliefs are wrong. I am too great a prodigy and too important to the world community to be allowed back in a classroom but too uneducated to be considered truly competent by my political peers. I am too young to wield the power I have.
I am too everything and never enough.
Well, yes, I suppose that sums me up rather nicely. I am a living bundle of flaws and contradictions, and the world remains quite ready to point all of them out for me.
It is good to know I am still considered human.
Sometimes I feel as if I have lost that designation, as if being what and who I am should require me to be somehow greater, somehow superhuman. I fall far short of that ideal, however, and I know it. And that knowing sometimes makes me feel subhuman. I have failed. I have failed my people and my world. I have failed my fathers. I have failed <I>him</I>. Forgive me my imperfections and my fallibility for I am just another mortal, just another young woman newly initiated into the world of adults, barely more than a girl, than a child.
People say I am not worthy of him. I tend to agree. But he decides who is worthy of him, not anyone else. Not them and not I.
And it is <I>my</I> name he calls to fill the silence, and <I>my </I>figure he seeks in a crowded room.
I do not know why, and I am almost afraid to speculate.
But I am thankful.
Is <I>this</I> love?
I hope it is.
<B>Title</B>: Reflectere
<B>Author</B>: Smarty Cat
<B>Email</B>: smartycat9383@yahoo.com
<B>Date Completed</B>: August 21, 2004
<B>Word count</B>: 700 (perfect! *faints*)
<B>Summary</B>: Relena is only human. Heero is too. And humans, despite their many flaws, possess free will.
For all of my supposed wisdom beyond my years, I do not think I will ever understand the logic of attraction, of love. Which is no doubt to be expected as logic is anathema to them. There is something fundamentally wrong, something almost evil, to try to apply reason to one of the basest and most powerful human emotions.
And yet I find myself attempting to look at our relationship rationally, to determine what it is that draws me to him and him to me.
It is easy enough to pinpoint what is that I find attractive about him. He is physically stunning: that lithe figure, strong muscles, and dusky golden skin; alert posture; a face like a stern archangel; those amazing eyes. Then, of course, there is his air. He exudes mystery, challenge, and danger. He is the stuff of every young girl?s fantasy made flesh and blood and bone. I must not forget his mind, however. He is exceptionally intelligent and quite well educated in an array of unusual, even arcane, subjects. I could talk with him for hours and, after a little prodding on my part to get the conversation going, have done so.
He fascinates me like no other man I have ever known.
Yes, it is easy enough to see why I have been falling for him for years.
But what could he possibly see in me?
I am not beautiful. I have been told that often enough. My breasts are too small; my waist, hips, and legs are too thick. My hair is too dark and dull, closer to brown than blonde, and hopelessly straight. My bangs are too short, allowing all who see me to gaze upon my too thick eyebrows. My nose is too upturned, and my lips are too thin.
I am no great beauty. But when he looks at me the way he sometimes does... I feel like one. Which is all the more silly as he is a man to value utility far more than aesthetics. Every little thing that I would agonize over regarding my appearance he would brush aside. I can almost hear him now. If it does not adversely affect my vision why should I care that my eyes are not perfectly level?
Then, of course, there are my less tangible shortcomings. I have heard them expounded on in great detail as well. I am too experienced and worldly for my age but too naive to recognize the true evil of the world around me. I am too forgiving and too indecisive but too stubborn to admit when my principles and beliefs are wrong. I am too great a prodigy and too important to the world community to be allowed back in a classroom but too uneducated to be considered truly competent by my political peers. I am too young to wield the power I have.
I am too everything and never enough.
Well, yes, I suppose that sums me up rather nicely. I am a living bundle of flaws and contradictions, and the world remains quite ready to point all of them out for me.
It is good to know I am still considered human.
Sometimes I feel as if I have lost that designation, as if being what and who I am should require me to be somehow greater, somehow superhuman. I fall far short of that ideal, however, and I know it. And that knowing sometimes makes me feel subhuman. I have failed. I have failed my people and my world. I have failed my fathers. I have failed <I>him</I>. Forgive me my imperfections and my fallibility for I am just another mortal, just another young woman newly initiated into the world of adults, barely more than a girl, than a child.
People say I am not worthy of him. I tend to agree. But he decides who is worthy of him, not anyone else. Not them and not I.
And it is <I>my</I> name he calls to fill the silence, and <I>my </I>figure he seeks in a crowded room.
I do not know why, and I am almost afraid to speculate.
But I am thankful.
Is <I>this</I> love?
I hope it is.