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Jun. 8th, 2011 09:13 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
lefthandedsidhe.livejournal.comWho am I? Who I thought myself to be is a lie, or at least an error.
I am not Margaret.
Margaret is gone. She has been gone for a very long time. Maleficent was a part of her too, and she holds as much right to the name as I do. Two sides of a coin, two parts of a whole.
We are not like these new creations of hers, the new darkness does not make the darkness in the original less. But she and I . . . all the darkness that was in Margaret lives in her . . . I am not whole, any more than she is.
I ought to claim a name of my own, despite the melodrama in such an action. Yet there is no name that feels right. I am tempted by “Elaine” which means light and fits well with my past. And yet, I cannot quite bring myself to do it.
Because a name is another step away from the whole we once were and should have been, a whole that can only come with our destruction.
And so I will venture to speak the words that a whole might have spoken, one with more courage than I have on my own.
Nothing can be broken past mending. There are two ways in which the puzzle of the heart can be fit back together. One she has considered: completing the division and then reuniting the wholes.
The other is beyond her understanding, but there are still those with greater power over the heart than she has. It would be no small task, for it would need the Faith to believe that dreams can come true, the Hope to find one's own destiny, the Courtesy to be kind to a stranger, the Honor to uphold a harsh bargain, the Chivalry to care for one's friends, the Purity to see past impossibility, and the Love to bridge hearts and worlds.
I am not Margaret.
Margaret is gone. She has been gone for a very long time. Maleficent was a part of her too, and she holds as much right to the name as I do. Two sides of a coin, two parts of a whole.
We are not like these new creations of hers, the new darkness does not make the darkness in the original less. But she and I . . . all the darkness that was in Margaret lives in her . . . I am not whole, any more than she is.
I ought to claim a name of my own, despite the melodrama in such an action. Yet there is no name that feels right. I am tempted by “Elaine” which means light and fits well with my past. And yet, I cannot quite bring myself to do it.
Because a name is another step away from the whole we once were and should have been, a whole that can only come with our destruction.
And so I will venture to speak the words that a whole might have spoken, one with more courage than I have on my own.
Nothing can be broken past mending. There are two ways in which the puzzle of the heart can be fit back together. One she has considered: completing the division and then reuniting the wholes.
The other is beyond her understanding, but there are still those with greater power over the heart than she has. It would be no small task, for it would need the Faith to believe that dreams can come true, the Hope to find one's own destiny, the Courtesy to be kind to a stranger, the Honor to uphold a harsh bargain, the Chivalry to care for one's friends, the Purity to see past impossibility, and the Love to bridge hearts and worlds.
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