kent

kyle rayner

At this point, Carly is unsure she knows what normal behavior is. Of course, she has done and seen such wild and wondrous things that her perception of normalcy is destined to be skewed, but even with superpowers and belief in the unnatural aside, humans have proved to be confusing. Herself included.

Is there something that can explain love and hate or emotion at all? Doesn't she find both Clark and Taylor perfect? Aren't her reactions to their perfection on completely polar ends of the spectrum? Then there are the oscillations- the ever swinging tide of reckless abandon and nighttime thrill clashing with the secluded, careful nature of her high school self. Which is her and which is the alter ego? Carly wonders if it is possible to be both at the same time or if one side must be a lie.

It's not as though she feels fake. Either persona is so simple to dissolve into- they feel like her. But how can she be so drastically different between night and day, think such different things about people's qualities. Should it be so easy to switch from gentle to wrathful? Most of the time she thinks nothing of it, but when lying on her bed at one a.m. on a school night, treading that ever so small line between wildness and routine, Carly can't help but feel out of touch with her contradicting personalities. The answer seems to be 'either' not 'both.'

Carly does not really know what she is, but she feels disgusted knowing that she is a liar. Even if she is not lying to herself about who she is, she is definitely lying her friends.

She can't fall asleep, so she thinks about Clark, about his heartache and hers. She thinks about how he deserves so much and she deserves nothing at all. Sure, Clark may know about the superpowers- he loves superheroes after all. But could he love her if he knew how excited she gets over maddening adrenaline highs? Would he be okay with Vertigo, the starry-masked assassin, slaughtering evil, but living creatures without a second of remorse?

For now, Carly chooses to continue thinking that she is protecting the world. What's good for the world must be good for those around her. Otherwise, she is just like the rest: selfish and proud, glorifying individuality at the expense of group harmony.

Carly does not want to be like the rest of mankind, especially not in the eyes of Clark. Not only is there a part of her perpetually wanting Clark to notice her as something different, but she also does not want to appear as infuriatingly fake before him. The same people who had mocked him are now beginning to do much more than acknowledge his presence- sitting beside him in class or stopping to talk to him in the hallways. Carly can't help but think it's all a trap- that the highschoolers are nothing more than a pack of wolves, encircling their prey, waiting for the most opportune moment to strike, and preparing to make life hell once more. But maybe she is underestimating their maturity- their evolution and realization that life may be cruel, but they have the option to choose otherwise.

It is so confusing to think of some people so viscous one second and perfectly calm the next. In some ways, the shifty nature of humanity scares Carly more than the possibility of the apocalyptic world. For she has seen how quickly the tides can turn in people, seen them with both snarled lips and then smiles, seen the same thing happen to her each night, but she has not seen the world burn. Who's to say it will?

Maybe there isn't a mastermind pushing the world to chaos. Maybe the population of beasts is rising on its own, growing more powerful and brave, unafraid to venture into the night, same as she. Without a doubt, however, Carly knows of the terrifyingly tempestuous souls of humanity. Torn by a sea of emotions, crystalline waters one moment and ragged waves the next. How can the hulls of the ship bear so much water damage, weathering that destabilizes its entire infrastructure?

She is awake at night, as per usual, but her eyes are closed; she watches the world fall apart behind her eyelids over and over again. Each time the imagining drastically different, but the terror serves as an underlying link.