[that's... admittedly unexpected. she raises her eyebrows at him and feels her other eye going wide underneath the patch, too.]
Just how many more people are gonna surprise me, knowing all this stuff about Earth?
[but the look fades, and she tries to force a smile instead, but it's the knowledge that it never really gets better that sits heavy in her chest. she's aware. she's suspected it for some time, and it's really accelerated in the past, oh, let's say four years or so. it's a shame that this boy from some future world has to be the one to confirm it for her. she almost laughs, just parting her lips as she looks back down at the worn wood of the table. her fingers trace a pattern that she has a much better perspective on from where she's sitting. it probably just looks directionless to anyone else.]
There's a difference, yeah. But I don't know how much it matters. When my parents disowned me in the name of God, I wasn't thinking too much about whether God was watching and letting it happen, or paying attention to the blood-for-oil bullshit everyone was praying for instead, or if he really just wasn't even looking at all. [she gently pushes her glass through the thin line of condensation that she'd been drawing on the table. she'd love to say she could keep eye contact with paul while she's doing it.] All I saw from my perspective down here on the great cosmic game board was a door slamming in my face and an empty bus back into the city.
That's the problem, you know? We could sit here talking theology all we want, but in the end the only thing that matters is how it affects you and me. [now she can look up at him. she isn't begging him to understand her or anything; in fact, if she had to guess, he knows what she's saying pretty well. welcome to the rerun of annalise lehmann's crisis of faith, originally airing all throughout july 2010.] Either you feel like you were lied to your whole life, or you feel abandoned by someone you trusted to be there for you, but either way you end up alone.
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Just how many more people are gonna surprise me, knowing all this stuff about Earth?
[but the look fades, and she tries to force a smile instead, but it's the knowledge that it never really gets better that sits heavy in her chest. she's aware. she's suspected it for some time, and it's really accelerated in the past, oh, let's say four years or so. it's a shame that this boy from some future world has to be the one to confirm it for her. she almost laughs, just parting her lips as she looks back down at the worn wood of the table. her fingers trace a pattern that she has a much better perspective on from where she's sitting. it probably just looks directionless to anyone else.]
There's a difference, yeah. But I don't know how much it matters. When my parents disowned me in the name of God, I wasn't thinking too much about whether God was watching and letting it happen, or paying attention to the blood-for-oil bullshit everyone was praying for instead, or if he really just wasn't even looking at all. [she gently pushes her glass through the thin line of condensation that she'd been drawing on the table. she'd love to say she could keep eye contact with paul while she's doing it.] All I saw from my perspective down here on the great cosmic game board was a door slamming in my face and an empty bus back into the city.
That's the problem, you know? We could sit here talking theology all we want, but in the end the only thing that matters is how it affects you and me. [now she can look up at him. she isn't begging him to understand her or anything; in fact, if she had to guess, he knows what she's saying pretty well. welcome to the rerun of annalise lehmann's crisis of faith, originally airing all throughout july 2010.] Either you feel like you were lied to your whole life, or you feel abandoned by someone you trusted to be there for you, but either way you end up alone.