lost without a care...
He was lost without a care. How could he not be? Was his own fault. He did it. On the stupidest of impulses. And it screwed the screw even deeper then it was meant to go. And the boards supporting the board began to creak. It wouldn't be long till they broke away. That's the last time he plays with the power screwdriver.
He was given the tools to build a house. He was told to build it with love, with the greatest care, careful not to leave behind anything from the plans, to stick with what he knew how to do, not put in unecessary flourishes, and most importantly, trust himself. That he did, at least, he thought so. But he didn't. He didn't truly love his job, not as much as was required for the sucessful construction. He didn't take the greatest care. He didn't follow the plans. He did things he didn't know how. He put in stupid flourishes that cost more than they were worth. And, he didn't trust himself.
As predicted, the house started to fall apart. It wasn't so evident, because he at least did the framework properly. But sure enough, it wouldn't last. How could it? He did not love it enough to notice that he had used the wrong floorings. He didn't stick to the plans close enough not to have made that seven inch gap inbetween the front wall panels. He didn't know enough to make the stairs sturdy enough to take the weight of a person. He put in stupid looking wooden gargoyles on the outside. And he didn't trust himself enough to build it properly, so he didn't.
As he fell through the board that he screwed in too tight, his mind flashed. On how he didn't do it properly at all. On how he should never have agreed to the job. On how everything was just not right...
And that thought ended when he broke his head on the floor that he had not made properly, a floor not soft enough to break his fall, a floor that should have been that way, seeing how it was supposed to be thick carpeted. And that small detail did not escape him as he died.
Meh.
He was given the tools to build a house. He was told to build it with love, with the greatest care, careful not to leave behind anything from the plans, to stick with what he knew how to do, not put in unecessary flourishes, and most importantly, trust himself. That he did, at least, he thought so. But he didn't. He didn't truly love his job, not as much as was required for the sucessful construction. He didn't take the greatest care. He didn't follow the plans. He did things he didn't know how. He put in stupid flourishes that cost more than they were worth. And, he didn't trust himself.
As predicted, the house started to fall apart. It wasn't so evident, because he at least did the framework properly. But sure enough, it wouldn't last. How could it? He did not love it enough to notice that he had used the wrong floorings. He didn't stick to the plans close enough not to have made that seven inch gap inbetween the front wall panels. He didn't know enough to make the stairs sturdy enough to take the weight of a person. He put in stupid looking wooden gargoyles on the outside. And he didn't trust himself enough to build it properly, so he didn't.
As he fell through the board that he screwed in too tight, his mind flashed. On how he didn't do it properly at all. On how he should never have agreed to the job. On how everything was just not right...
And that thought ended when he broke his head on the floor that he had not made properly, a floor not soft enough to break his fall, a floor that should have been that way, seeing how it was supposed to be thick carpeted. And that small detail did not escape him as he died.
Meh.
posted by quicksilverlining at 3:28 PM
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