(no subject)
Aug. 11th, 2005 10:56 pmAuthor:
inpurity
Title: Blending in the background
Genre: Angst
Rating: G
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Summary: Shadows and light. Blindness is in the eye of the beholder
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, not written for profit. CSI and everything associated with it, belongs to Jerry Bruckheimer and CBS.
Written for the Clothing Challenge at
ngchallenge
If there is something that I've learned to do, it's how to be invisible.
It took me a lot of time, but now I can hide in plain view like a chameleon, like a stick insect.
I blend into my surrounding.
I am see through.
I am a glass wall.
I am a void around a physical space.
I used to sit, talk, move, (on occasions) sing along music and bob my pretty head along with the electric mayhem of some pretty guitar.
I used to work, give my opinion, make mistakes, get blown out my lab (but only on special occasions), get back on my feet and keep trying.
I used to.
You think that with all the racket I made, with all the space I cluttered, with how hard I tried (and please, do not mention the fact that I am a bit on the desperate side), you think that he would have noticed me by now right?
He hasn't.
I used to wear the most garish shirts, recite places and locations of the most infamous sexual practices, bend over backwards (in the metaphorical and not so metaphorical sense of the word), change my colors like a metro-sexual butterfly.
He only saw the caterpillar.
Grey and sluggish.
So now I am all muted tones and earthy colors, natural fabrics and well tailored jackets.
And it's not a matter of professionalism, or of my fear of Grissom kicking me out, or of Ecklie enjoying kicking me out.
It's self preservation.
It's my attempt at surviving the end of the winter, the time in which the damn caterpillar tries again to blossom in bright colors.
It's my attempt at forgetting what never was.
It's my attempt at accepting that sometime, sometime it's just not meant to be.
No matter how hard you try.
So, in this polished sunset, I button up my shirt, put my jacket on, fix my tie and drive to Sara's house.
She likes the caterpillar.
And I will never try to be a butterfly for her.
Title: Blending in the background
Genre: Angst
Rating: G
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Summary: Shadows and light. Blindness is in the eye of the beholder
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, not written for profit. CSI and everything associated with it, belongs to Jerry Bruckheimer and CBS.
Written for the Clothing Challenge at
If there is something that I've learned to do, it's how to be invisible.
It took me a lot of time, but now I can hide in plain view like a chameleon, like a stick insect.
I blend into my surrounding.
I am see through.
I am a glass wall.
I am a void around a physical space.
I used to sit, talk, move, (on occasions) sing along music and bob my pretty head along with the electric mayhem of some pretty guitar.
I used to work, give my opinion, make mistakes, get blown out my lab (but only on special occasions), get back on my feet and keep trying.
I used to.
You think that with all the racket I made, with all the space I cluttered, with how hard I tried (and please, do not mention the fact that I am a bit on the desperate side), you think that he would have noticed me by now right?
He hasn't.
I used to wear the most garish shirts, recite places and locations of the most infamous sexual practices, bend over backwards (in the metaphorical and not so metaphorical sense of the word), change my colors like a metro-sexual butterfly.
He only saw the caterpillar.
Grey and sluggish.
So now I am all muted tones and earthy colors, natural fabrics and well tailored jackets.
And it's not a matter of professionalism, or of my fear of Grissom kicking me out, or of Ecklie enjoying kicking me out.
It's self preservation.
It's my attempt at surviving the end of the winter, the time in which the damn caterpillar tries again to blossom in bright colors.
It's my attempt at forgetting what never was.
It's my attempt at accepting that sometime, sometime it's just not meant to be.
No matter how hard you try.
So, in this polished sunset, I button up my shirt, put my jacket on, fix my tie and drive to Sara's house.
She likes the caterpillar.
And I will never try to be a butterfly for her.