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Forums pour ados - Création & littérature
LessThanZero Flume 17 04/08/09 à 21:24

I was looking for Valium in my bathroom but I couldn't find anything, so I decided to sit on a chair.
I know, it sounds ironically useless, but it works. And that's an odd thing.
I'm surrounded by odd things. People fighting, struggling against something stronger than them.
People fighting against something that is so meaningless that they shouldn't waste their forces.
And people staring at those fights.
I'm one of those people.
I stare and shut the hell up, blankly watching things fall apart in a twisted way that looks so unusual.
I don't fight no more. I can't fight no more.
I don't walk no more, I don't crawl no more.
I used to listen to a song that stated "You have to learn to crawl, before you learn to walk".
To me, this sentence used to be right and meaningful. But life makes you discover that it's not how it works. Life tells you and gently pulls you down after you've learned to walk. So you have to learn to walk, before you learn to crawl.
Like those babies who will never remember the time they were crawling.
When you have learned to crawl, you miss walking.
There's no wheelchair, no facilities, nothing.
Other people don't understand how crawling could make you go forward.
Thing is, crawling suits the kind of person I am. People who crawls can watch blankly and understand what happens on the ground.
And on the ground, there's a root.
Oh Lord, roots have always mean so much to people.
But what they don't understand, is that, if they keep walking the way they do, they'll walk over their roots. And they'll keep harming their feet by bumping into roots.
That's why you have to learn to walk, before you learn to crawl.
Sometimes, those roots don't matter. But most of the time, they do more than people imagine or expect.
Sometimes, when you crawl, you discover new roots you can tie to.
And it happened to me. I found a root.
I know this root for 7 years now.
At first, it was underground, so I couldn't see it properly, but after a few time, it started to attach my feet.
It took a long time before I realized how strong and deep this root was attached to the ground and me.
It took 7 years.
And throughout those 7 years, I couldn't see how infected this root was.
Sick, ill, destroyed, jaded, used.
But it was strong. And it still is.
It kills me I took 7 years to understand how beautiful it was.
It kills me I took 7 years to understand the curls and secrets in time for that root to turn to stone.
Because we all turn to stone. But some of us don't have the chance to gently turn to stone.
Some of us don't wait the end of their lives to die.
That's what she is.
She is turning to stone in front of me. And I'm crawling beneath. And I can't get up and fight for her, because it's her fight.
But just like me, she can't figtht no more.
The mold hast started to eat the roots a long time ago. The mustiness is digging what's in between.
Bones and skin, nothing in between.
The lichen hast started to cover things up, and she can't take it off.
I watch her fighting.
She's strong and brave, but she knows it's useless, so she keeps fighting for people. For the image she still wants to reflect into our eyes.
The growing disease is too strong now. And I widely see her branches starting to crack, her leaves finishing to fall down, her trunk bending and twisting horribly, and people are already thinking about taking down the whole tree. Just like those trees we have to cut off because they're dying anyway.
Leave the roots alone. Leave them behind. And I'll be the only one to see they're still here.

And Autumn will leave and let winter cover everything.
People will start to forget, but under the white snow. under the footsteps, under the freezing leaves, I'll see the roots.
And that's all that matters.


Epilogue: This text has been written in may 2009. In June, Fall came, and took the tree away. Even though this tree wasn't mine, even if it wasn't supposed to be my root in the first place, I will stay tie to it.
Forever.
There's no "Rest in Peace", I'll just let the ashes scatter.
May they find a better place to fly to.
Forever ago.

Smoking_In  
Flume 1/17 04/08/2009 à 21:58
En Francais ? Mauvais ange
Kevinblues  
Flume 2/17 04/08/2009 à 21:59
Lezard a écrit :

En Francais ?


+1
Bastard Barbie  
Flume 3/17 04/08/2009 à 22:11
Good job.

I like it =]
Ancien membre 
Flume 4/17 05/08/2009 à 14:59
J'aime bien, mais il faut dire qu'écrire en anglais c'est aussi un peu brouiller les fautes de styles, parce que vu que c'est pas notre langue maternelle on les repère moins facilement, les phrases qui raclent au lieu de glisser. Tu ne prends pas de risque ?
LessThanZero  
Flume 5/17 05/08/2009 à 20:18
Absolument pas.
Mes textes sont plus lus par des anglophones que par des francophones de toute façon.
J'aime avoir l'avis de francophones car ces gens s'attardent énormément sur la forme sans saisir toutes les nuances du fond, cela donne un genre de candeur involontaire dont j'aime beaucoup étudier les détours.
Belle du Singe  
Flume 6/17 05/08/2009 à 20:33
Un des plus bel hommage que j'ai jamais lu, c'est la seule chose que je puisse dire.
Je suis désolée pour toi?
Ancien membre 
Flume 7/17 05/08/2009 à 20:37
successful, wonderful Smile
LessThanZero  
Flume 8/17 05/08/2009 à 20:38
Thank you for understading the heart of that matter.
Thank you for feeling it the way I wish someone would feel it.
That's all that really mattered to me.
Fx.  
Flume 9/17 05/08/2009 à 20:39
Lezard a écrit :

En Francais ?


-1.
I hope I'll think about reading it later.
Ancien membre 
Flume 10/17 05/08/2009 à 20:42
Don't forget.
I think we felt it, thank you for your sincerity.

(et je m'arrête là pour l'anglais)
Belle du Singe  
Flume 11/17 05/08/2009 à 20:45
LessThanZero a écrit :

Thank you for understading the heart of that matter.
Thank you for feeling it the way I wish someone would feel it.
That's all that really mattered to me.




I remember you writting this to me "be the exception, be the one who understands". By that time, I've learnt how to accept this kind of request, coming from people like you.
Ancien membre 
Flume 12/17 05/08/2009 à 20:46
J'aime pas ...
LessThanZero  
Flume 13/17 05/08/2009 à 20:47
Elabore, je t'en prie.
Ancien membre 
Flume 14/17 05/08/2009 à 21:01
non mais c'est pas de ta faute (enfin ...)
Mais y a trop de répétitions dû au fait que la langue n'a aucune variété ... et donc j'aime pas ^^
Ca peut paraître ridicule, mais c'est comme ça =)

Heu ensuite au niveau de l'histoire, c'est que c'est juste pas mon truc

Bon mais tu écris bien anglais, je le nie pas (comme ça t'auras encore un compliment =D)
Kikoologue 
Flume 15/17 05/08/2009 à 21:04
C'est un anglais de brut de décoffrage.
Humain  
Flume 16/17 05/08/2009 à 21:08
Przezwyciezysz a écrit :

C'est un anglais de brut de décoffrage.



A part le fait que le texte soit en anglais, ce que toute personne normalement constituée a pu remarquer, trouvez donc autre chose de plus pertinent à dire.
LessThanZero  
Flume 17/17 05/08/2009 à 21:43
Fine.
Fine.

I promised myself when I decided to write this text, back from a very dim place, that this would be a no frill text.
There wouldn't be anything beautiful about it, nothing polished, not a single glim of sparkle or any zest of shine.
I also promised myself I wouldn't need to justifiy that, because the thing I wrote about is so dreadful, that at the right moment I might even think about it, it will consum me from the inside.

The fact I need to explain it all, to you, to a crowd that's unaware of that story, saddens me deeply.
The fact that you need an elaborated form of language, that the language itself looks meaningless to you, that you don't get why it's repeating, circling above as if it was haunting, brings me down to an unsize wilderness I shall not be dealing with.

There's no such thing as being pulled down by someone who won't understand simplicity as a weapon of expression.
There is no such thing as finding an ugly meaning in something that is merely ugly.

I remember the time I started slamming the keyboard in search of some sort of lyric inspiration.
At that right moment, every well constructed word, every beautifully balacned sentence was unpleasant to my mind.
Because the heart of this story, its soul and mere purpose, is something deeply ugly.
It is something no one should ever feel, nor should ever make look beautiful.

Litterature as a form has no sense, if you don't think of the beauty you should put in what you do, if you don't consider ugly and simple words as imaginable in one's mind to express helplesness and misery, you are mistaken.

I really thought sparing you the background, the past, the fine details of that life was the right thing to do.
I strongly believed some of you could just understand it , and feel the echo of every word, well pondered, just in their right place. Some of you did.

Art is shaped in a special way, a very typical way that doesn't require judgment. Those who decide to go deeper do it at their own risks.
Those who take that way might miss the whole meaning and resonance of the text.

I could have chosen a very delightful way to spell. Or speak.
I could have picked a word by its number of syllable or its unbelievable ability to disarm you and make you surrender to the quality of the writing.
But I did not.

Only because this text is a tribute. A tribute to a person.
Someone who mattered and didn't need words to express herself.

And when words get useless, the only thing you can do, is hush. Stare and read.
Take it as you want.
But don't ever underestimate the power of simple words, because they might be the only one that mean something.

Thank you.
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