|Tags||Eleanor, Exiled Artist|
Publish Upon Death - E.W. 2094
I came to Seattle for fame. I found disaster. I was dragged to Buckley for safety and found my heart and my head. In Olympia I searched for power, for control. I floundered, then found it in pieces. It was fed to me in bits, a piecemeal contract with the enemy, and I took it and I signed and signed. I don't know what I was wrong to. I had nothing, could do nothing. All that activist work, nothing. But as my power grew, I became comfortable. I lost what I'd found in Buckley. Prosperity breeds contentment, and contentmet is the root of all evil. I did what I could. I have to believe that. That I do what I can, still.
I knew who Jamie Fume was, or at least I'd heard of him. The tragedy he caused, the disaster, the despair. Those people, they could have been us. They did not deserve to die. And all that work I'd done, we'd done, I thought, this is what came of it? This religious cesspit of terrorist revolutionaries? I leave, and this is what happens? Maybe I am somewhat to blame, I thought. Maybe I could have done more. Maybe if I'd denied Orin and stayed behind to nurture the movement, we could have arisen again. But no, I don't think so. I was a nobody, just another drop in the tides of history. Now I make waves. And I'll keep on making waves, as long as I don't misstep too far.
To the terrorist tho attempted my murder one week prior to this writing: we didn't have to be enemies. We could have stood for the same thing. I'm sorry. Genuinely. We could have, but we don't. 50 years ago, our paths might not have diverged, and the world might have been a very different place. Those days are over. I go to Victoria now to flee your kind.
We chose different paths. You roiled in the shadows, a perverted rendition of your former self. I shone brightly in the sun but lowly dried up, cushioned and perfumed, vain. I live now knowing that there was no right choice. You don't live at all. But perhaps that what you would have wanted in the end. I suspect my death is close as well. See you on the other side.
|Eleanor||Series||Eleanor Blog: 1 | 2 | 3 | Eleanor Blog 4 – Eleanor Sketchbook: 2 | 4 – Tyler Lang: 3|
|Standalone||Anti Beacon Flier | Eleanor Email | EW Death|
|Exiled Artist||Series||Eleanor Blog: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 – Eleanor Sketchbook: 2 | 4 – | Hartier: 1 | 2 | 3|
|Standalone||Anti Beacon Flier | Eleanor Email | EW Death | Last Poem|