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Props
Winter came and went, changed from alabaster snow -a sparkling prism of light that covered the streets and rooftops, melting away by the very thing that gave it a sense of life in the first place- to the blades of grass that peeked timidly out from the ground.
You loved springtime.
Winter melts to spring and springs blooms to summer and summer falls to autumn, and you suddenly find yourself back in the dreariness of it all, the only place that ever offers much comfort. The pattern repeats, over and over like a spinning record, stuck on the same track. Just like the sun sets and the moon rises and the moon sets and the sun rises, life goes on. It doesn’t stop for anyone, no matter what the cause, it just keeps turning the world keeps turning even if you have stopped. The stars come out night after night and light the sky like scattered dreams too far to reach, so close to touch. Winder melts into springtime, a joyous occasion when the groundhog pokes his furry little nose out of the ground and sees his shadow, for those with normal lives. A sense of rebirth washes over those types, those who don’t know what springtime really means.
Compared to this –the birds and flowers and buzzing bees- winter seems like a safe-haven so quickly washed away by smiling faces and laughter. Heavy rain and dreary days are an oasis never to be reached, and there’s a longing for the despair that settles over everyone in the colder months. In that time, I don’t feel so alone, like now, while everyone else is out singing because that stupid little rodent saw a shadow of his ass on the ground. Grinning children romp on playgrounds and soccer mom’s converse about bake-sales and faculty meetings. No one really knows what springtime means. No one else realizes the pain at seeing their dreams so close as if to touch, but only for a moment.
They’ve all held stars before. They keep them somewhere safe, locked away in their cozy little foursquare houses with their dog and cat and twin girls with pigtails. They all got to keep their stars, while mine exploded in my face, leaving scars for the world to see. My eyes that I’ve been told once held laughter and happiness are now dead and my skin is charred flesh left by the blast that destroyed everything I loved.
And all because of him. My knight in shining armor who rode in on his gallant steed, with the star I’d strived to hold for so long. He rode in without a care, placed it in my hand and turned away, thinking my dream-come-true would bring a smile to my face. In that moment, in that time I loved my knight, and had he asked for it I would have given him the world on a silver platter. But no, he was to righteous for that. Instead he took off his disguise just as my star exploded, and he laughed.
My knight on his gallant steed was nothing more then a man- a naïve man, riding on a ass, thinking he could change the world with one good deed after another. Idiot. I hated him, as I brushed dust of my clothes and blood from my mouth. I hated everything he’d become, everything I had, and everything he’d given me, only to take away. I hate him for laughing that early morning. I hate him for laughing at me like I know he did, me and my malfunctioning dream.
I still can’t decide.
Part of me hated him for the longest time; part of me still hates him. I force myself to believe he set me up, that he tries to drive the laughter from my pitiful life.
Part of me knows that’s not true. That he, my white knight, is no more guilty or innocent then I am. In the back of his mind he knew what would happen if he offered the one thing I could not have. And I knew in the back of mine if he ever offered I would take it. I should have known that they would come and push the trigger, blowing up my semblance of a life with a single gunshot. I did know. I knew, he knew, yet we blindfolded each other into thinking that this time we could somehow escape.
There’s no escape. I’m trapped in this sorry world, in this tangle of death. I aim only to survive, not to live. The moment I start living, it’s over. One by one they’ve killed them all, everyone who every meant anything to me, anyone I meant anything too. Piece by piece they tore me apart.
Love kills. I knew it, he knew it, we all knew it. But no one said a word. They spoke around me in whispers of knowing, but never divulged. They never told me what was to come and when, only hinted.
It seems simple now. I should have let you go.
It’s too late for that. You’re gone, and I’m left with all the unfinished business. The missing pieces.
You were my light, my love, and the one thing in this hell that made any sense. You were someone who cared for me, the person I was, unconditionally. You never asked anything of me, and in return gave all. You weren’t afraid. I was terrified. It was only after I realized the courage I possessed, that I could have put the past behind me, that I could have loved, that I deserved to love. But now that’s gone. You’re gone, and there’s nothing left.
I’ve survived. The loss of my mother, my father, of the brother I never knew and the sister that died. I survived through my white knight, riding off into the sunset with every damsel in distress he could find. I survived through the loss of my friends, of my childhood, of my innocence, of my life. I lost everything, but it didn’t matter, because in the end, I still had you. I could come home and lay in your arms and every pain I’d seen that day would vanish, disappear into nothing. You were the first person who listened, no matter what I had to say. You didn’t care about money or cars or sports. You cared about people, about me.
Life doesn’t go on. It’s not supposed to. It’s supposed to stop and give you time to think and breathe and remember. It’s supposed to give you back what was taken from you.
But it doesn’t. It sucks you right back in and drags you along like a limp puppet on a string and fills you with so much bottled anger there’s nothing you can do but hold your tears in till nighttime, when it’s dark and quiet and there’s no one to see you grieve- for houses, skillfully turned into homes. For empty hearts filled up again. For new beginnings that might have been. All left with you, my love.
+ + +
end
Props
Winter came and went, changed from alabaster snow -a sparkling prism of light that covered the streets and rooftops, melting away by the very thing that gave it a sense of life in the first place- to the blades of grass that peeked timidly out from the ground.
You loved springtime.
Winter melts to spring and springs blooms to summer and summer falls to autumn, and you suddenly find yourself back in the dreariness of it all, the only place that ever offers much comfort. The pattern repeats, over and over like a spinning record, stuck on the same track. Just like the sun sets and the moon rises and the moon sets and the sun rises, life goes on. It doesn’t stop for anyone, no matter what the cause, it just keeps turning the world keeps turning even if you have stopped. The stars come out night after night and light the sky like scattered dreams too far to reach, so close to touch. Winder melts into springtime, a joyous occasion when the groundhog pokes his furry little nose out of the ground and sees his shadow, for those with normal lives. A sense of rebirth washes over those types, those who don’t know what springtime really means.
Compared to this –the birds and flowers and buzzing bees- winter seems like a safe-haven so quickly washed away by smiling faces and laughter. Heavy rain and dreary days are an oasis never to be reached, and there’s a longing for the despair that settles over everyone in the colder months. In that time, I don’t feel so alone, like now, while everyone else is out singing because that stupid little rodent saw a shadow of his ass on the ground. Grinning children romp on playgrounds and soccer mom’s converse about bake-sales and faculty meetings. No one really knows what springtime means. No one else realizes the pain at seeing their dreams so close as if to touch, but only for a moment.
They’ve all held stars before. They keep them somewhere safe, locked away in their cozy little foursquare houses with their dog and cat and twin girls with pigtails. They all got to keep their stars, while mine exploded in my face, leaving scars for the world to see. My eyes that I’ve been told once held laughter and happiness are now dead and my skin is charred flesh left by the blast that destroyed everything I loved.
And all because of him. My knight in shining armor who rode in on his gallant steed, with the star I’d strived to hold for so long. He rode in without a care, placed it in my hand and turned away, thinking my dream-come-true would bring a smile to my face. In that moment, in that time I loved my knight, and had he asked for it I would have given him the world on a silver platter. But no, he was to righteous for that. Instead he took off his disguise just as my star exploded, and he laughed.
My knight on his gallant steed was nothing more then a man- a naïve man, riding on a ass, thinking he could change the world with one good deed after another. Idiot. I hated him, as I brushed dust of my clothes and blood from my mouth. I hated everything he’d become, everything I had, and everything he’d given me, only to take away. I hate him for laughing that early morning. I hate him for laughing at me like I know he did, me and my malfunctioning dream.
I still can’t decide.
Part of me hated him for the longest time; part of me still hates him. I force myself to believe he set me up, that he tries to drive the laughter from my pitiful life.
Part of me knows that’s not true. That he, my white knight, is no more guilty or innocent then I am. In the back of his mind he knew what would happen if he offered the one thing I could not have. And I knew in the back of mine if he ever offered I would take it. I should have known that they would come and push the trigger, blowing up my semblance of a life with a single gunshot. I did know. I knew, he knew, yet we blindfolded each other into thinking that this time we could somehow escape.
There’s no escape. I’m trapped in this sorry world, in this tangle of death. I aim only to survive, not to live. The moment I start living, it’s over. One by one they’ve killed them all, everyone who every meant anything to me, anyone I meant anything too. Piece by piece they tore me apart.
Love kills. I knew it, he knew it, we all knew it. But no one said a word. They spoke around me in whispers of knowing, but never divulged. They never told me what was to come and when, only hinted.
It seems simple now. I should have let you go.
It’s too late for that. You’re gone, and I’m left with all the unfinished business. The missing pieces.
You were my light, my love, and the one thing in this hell that made any sense. You were someone who cared for me, the person I was, unconditionally. You never asked anything of me, and in return gave all. You weren’t afraid. I was terrified. It was only after I realized the courage I possessed, that I could have put the past behind me, that I could have loved, that I deserved to love. But now that’s gone. You’re gone, and there’s nothing left.
I’ve survived. The loss of my mother, my father, of the brother I never knew and the sister that died. I survived through my white knight, riding off into the sunset with every damsel in distress he could find. I survived through the loss of my friends, of my childhood, of my innocence, of my life. I lost everything, but it didn’t matter, because in the end, I still had you. I could come home and lay in your arms and every pain I’d seen that day would vanish, disappear into nothing. You were the first person who listened, no matter what I had to say. You didn’t care about money or cars or sports. You cared about people, about me.
Life doesn’t go on. It’s not supposed to. It’s supposed to stop and give you time to think and breathe and remember. It’s supposed to give you back what was taken from you.
But it doesn’t. It sucks you right back in and drags you along like a limp puppet on a string and fills you with so much bottled anger there’s nothing you can do but hold your tears in till nighttime, when it’s dark and quiet and there’s no one to see you grieve- for houses, skillfully turned into homes. For empty hearts filled up again. For new beginnings that might have been. All left with you, my love.
+ + +
end
