Cicel had always been too fragile for the world. She had something many people will never experience; an incredible empathy for others. It had started when she was just a small girl. Watching the other kids, taking in the words that they so carelessly threw at each. Every harsh word that was hurled from an inconsiderate mouth hit her as if she were a punching bag. Knocking what little sanctity she found out of her hands and crushing it ruthlessly. No matter how tight she held to her own world she had never been able to escape it. She was the classic product of a broken home, a mother who cared too much and a father who failed to pay her the time of day. But she escaped through her mind, into her own thoughts holding so tight to each emotion that she could barely breathe. She wrapped herself in her complex ideas and over analyzed every piece of information that she came in contact with. By the time she was ten, Cicel had completely lost touch with the world.
She looked frail. Even though she stood 5'6, at 115 pounds she had a waif-like quality that made people cling to her every word. Her long, chocolate hair hung well below past her shoulders, and her lips were constantly pursed deep in her unique thinking process. When she spoke, which wasn't often, everyone would listen to what the petite oracle of wisdom had to say. She couldn't stand it. Not one of them understood, even through their incessant babble about acceptance she still fought for someone, anyone to pull her out of her personal chasm and tell her it was ok because they didn't understand her, but they would never stop trying.
She stopped talking when she was thirteen. There was no need for words anymore, just observation. Just seeing people instead of hearing them. Something she decided to try. That's when she started the writing. When she first put her pen to the paper, she didn't know where it would take her. They didn't start out as poems, or sonnets, just raw emotion being bled into ink and mutated in art. The words were so beautiful and pure, so true, not judging or loving, just true. Her heart was poured into each letter and verse, soon pages became full and then books, then shelvesthat's when the need to talk became a necessity again.
She didn't want to talk but she wanted people to understand. In order for them to understand she needed to share the fruits of her labor. And so like a virgin member of God's creation, she wandered out into the already tainted Garden of Eden. She didn't know what to expect all she knew was that she had to try. It was the first time she was doing something selfish. She was sharing her work for herself. And so the emotions on paper became songs, and she became to genius among her piers, even though it was unwanted.
It was for all these reasons that JC fell in love with her. When he first met her she was an insecure twenty-year old. Her painfully thin frame walked through the doors of the Sweden recording studio, and he knew he loved her. When she sat down, she sang her lyrics in a small, taunt voice. It was untrained and raw, the most complete and amazing sound he had ever heard. As her lips moved, she hid behind her thick unruly hair. When she looked up he could almost see the pain emanating from her eyes. And the words that came from her mouth astounded him. She was more of real person than he had ever met. Over time he came to love her for many other qualities, she was the most selfless person he would ever meet and he knew it.
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She walked out of the small room into the crowded hallway, shoving one hand in her pocket and using the other to wipe the hair out of her face. It was the first time she had been there to see what other thought of her work, it was overwhelming. She watched as he rounded the corner, when he spotted her he slowed, until he was standing next to her.
"I love your work" he said softly.
"I'm glad" she replied not looking at him, keeping her head bowed.
"I'm JC" he said extended a hand to her. She just nodded
"I know, they introduced us remember?" He laughed at her bluntness and her face turned bright red. She sunk down, leaning her head back against the wall. He sat beside her, watching her curl her small legs up to her chest. She looked small and scared.
"Your lost aren't you?" he asked, whispering into her ear. It was more of statement than a question.
With those words he had her soul.
"Yes. But that's not what scares me" She breathed. Her words barely intelligible, but he soaked up every word.
"Then what scares you?"
"That I can't find my way back." He was silent. In the ten minutes her knew her he had connected. Connected on a level so deep that speaking his thoughts would have been overkill, an obtuse use of unneeded expression.
"You've been out of the world for a long time. Haven't you Cicel." She nodded at his words. "Welcome back" he spoke into her ear.
And so it began...
When I lie very still
When I listen real hard
When everything seems right
In the middle of the night
I ask "Where have you been?"
I've been looking for signs
I've been looking around
I've been walking in the park
Far to often after dark
Where have you gone?
We haven't spoken for so long
If it starts to snow
Well then it starts to snow
If we feel it go
Then we should let it go
I know this little place
That's big enough to hide
And if we stay real close
We both can fit inside
And if we losed control
Then well, we lose control...
Part Two