In Which Lessons Are Learned; Of the Discoveries of Man
There was a world, not unlike our own, but one in which every story had a happy ending. Which is not to say that the people of this world lived without strife -- because they did, for if they did not they could not appreciate their happiness -- but despite the strife their stories would all conclude with smiles. This is one such story.
In this world lived a man of modest nature. He had more than some and less than some and for the most part went about his days enjoying life in contentment. He was an ambitious man and a dreamer. He possessed a fair, humble intelligence that he would use with his imagination and that him happy. The road to his dreams and his goals was often met with many obstacles but it was the struggle that he enjoyed.
But one thing was always missing, and though he never really dwelt on it he knew of its absence and every once in a while he would lament it. Women, and relationships in particular, were a terrible conundrum for him, but he would admit this with light hearted grace, with a sort of elbow-in-the-ribs chuckle at his own quirkiness. If he had one great ability over all others it was that he was very much comfortable being alone. He could harbor deep, murky secrets and feelings within himself with ease and for the most part he liked that just fine.
There was a day in this man's life, however, when he began to wonder about his own happiness, and how painfully unreachable his goals seemed to be. And for a time he forgot about the world he lived in, and that every story ends happily. He frightened himself with horrible thoughts of self-destruction. That night his mind clouded over and for a moment he brushed the surface of madness. But with love and care from family he was cured and he remembered again that all stories have happy endings.
He was scarred that night, however, and never fully recovered the modest contentment he seemed to enjoy previously, and that pained him. Until one day, shortly after, he spent time with a beautiful woman he had just recently met.
And she was gorgeous. Comely yes, but also fair of heart and mind and soul. She had a compassion that was rare in those ages of men and this young man adored that about her. He felt he could share his world with her and he did. And she listened and she shared hers with him. There was such a strong connection between them it was as if they were of one breed. They understood each other with such frightening alacrity that they spent many long days and nights in the presence of each other and even when they weren't speaking, and they were just sitting together silently drawing or reading or not doing anything at all, it was as if they were still communicating and feeling. It was charmingly comfortable.
But there was a problem, as there sometimes are with these things, and she was going through strife of her own. You see, before the young man of our story, our fair lady had given herself to another young fellow. But after many years of happiness he denied her and she was waiting for her own happy ending.
"I will not give up on you," the young man told her, as he wanted to share his life with her. She was helping him give his life meaning again, filling a void that had been missing for so long.
And as these things go, they continued to see each other and learn about each other. And each new meeting they would learn something more. And the more they learned the more they wanted to know.
But she became confused because she too developed strong feelings of her own for this young man. But her heart she was giving to another and she told this to him. The young man found this news to be painful but he realized that she was worth fighting for, for he never before had a cause worth so much.
"I will not give up on you," he would repeat to himself. And he didn't, and they spent more time together. And he was good to her as she was good to him. And the more they saw each other the more secrets they told and the more intrigued the both of them became of each other.
And a very strange thing happened along this journey. For the first time in his life, the young man knew what love felt like. And it was wonderful. "Love means," he finally defined for himself. "Caring selflessly!" And a whole new world was opened before his eyes. And when he was with her, he found pastel colors in his world. And when he thought of her, and her compassion and when he looked on her and when he cared for her images of beauty would race through his head.
But the fair lady, whose heart was given to another, though cared for him, could not handle the care that was being given to her. And this was making her sad and guilty, for she was a compassionate person and knew she could never return it.
"But my care for you is selfless," the young man told her. "I need nothing in return." But he understood her, for they were of the same breed, and knew that she would be endlessly sad knowing she could not give her heart to him as he did her.
And so the young man did the only thing he could, to release her from her misery -- he had to let go and move on and try to care no more. "You get what you want," he told her, with loving care in his voice. "That doesn't mean much to me," she said, for she wanted what he wanted and that was to see him happy. "But it does to me," the young man replied and his heart opened and emptied, dark crimson blood of love spilling out and staining his soul.
Later that night the young man cried out to God with violent tears. "Where is my Salvation, O Lord?!" he screamed on high. "These stories are supposed to end with happiness!"
And God replied, "Does your sacrifice for her happiness give you joy?" And there, the young man had his answer.
The end.
In this world lived a man of modest nature. He had more than some and less than some and for the most part went about his days enjoying life in contentment. He was an ambitious man and a dreamer. He possessed a fair, humble intelligence that he would use with his imagination and that him happy. The road to his dreams and his goals was often met with many obstacles but it was the struggle that he enjoyed.
But one thing was always missing, and though he never really dwelt on it he knew of its absence and every once in a while he would lament it. Women, and relationships in particular, were a terrible conundrum for him, but he would admit this with light hearted grace, with a sort of elbow-in-the-ribs chuckle at his own quirkiness. If he had one great ability over all others it was that he was very much comfortable being alone. He could harbor deep, murky secrets and feelings within himself with ease and for the most part he liked that just fine.
There was a day in this man's life, however, when he began to wonder about his own happiness, and how painfully unreachable his goals seemed to be. And for a time he forgot about the world he lived in, and that every story ends happily. He frightened himself with horrible thoughts of self-destruction. That night his mind clouded over and for a moment he brushed the surface of madness. But with love and care from family he was cured and he remembered again that all stories have happy endings.
He was scarred that night, however, and never fully recovered the modest contentment he seemed to enjoy previously, and that pained him. Until one day, shortly after, he spent time with a beautiful woman he had just recently met.
And she was gorgeous. Comely yes, but also fair of heart and mind and soul. She had a compassion that was rare in those ages of men and this young man adored that about her. He felt he could share his world with her and he did. And she listened and she shared hers with him. There was such a strong connection between them it was as if they were of one breed. They understood each other with such frightening alacrity that they spent many long days and nights in the presence of each other and even when they weren't speaking, and they were just sitting together silently drawing or reading or not doing anything at all, it was as if they were still communicating and feeling. It was charmingly comfortable.
But there was a problem, as there sometimes are with these things, and she was going through strife of her own. You see, before the young man of our story, our fair lady had given herself to another young fellow. But after many years of happiness he denied her and she was waiting for her own happy ending.
"I will not give up on you," the young man told her, as he wanted to share his life with her. She was helping him give his life meaning again, filling a void that had been missing for so long.
And as these things go, they continued to see each other and learn about each other. And each new meeting they would learn something more. And the more they learned the more they wanted to know.
But she became confused because she too developed strong feelings of her own for this young man. But her heart she was giving to another and she told this to him. The young man found this news to be painful but he realized that she was worth fighting for, for he never before had a cause worth so much.
"I will not give up on you," he would repeat to himself. And he didn't, and they spent more time together. And he was good to her as she was good to him. And the more they saw each other the more secrets they told and the more intrigued the both of them became of each other.
And a very strange thing happened along this journey. For the first time in his life, the young man knew what love felt like. And it was wonderful. "Love means," he finally defined for himself. "Caring selflessly!" And a whole new world was opened before his eyes. And when he was with her, he found pastel colors in his world. And when he thought of her, and her compassion and when he looked on her and when he cared for her images of beauty would race through his head.
But the fair lady, whose heart was given to another, though cared for him, could not handle the care that was being given to her. And this was making her sad and guilty, for she was a compassionate person and knew she could never return it.
"But my care for you is selfless," the young man told her. "I need nothing in return." But he understood her, for they were of the same breed, and knew that she would be endlessly sad knowing she could not give her heart to him as he did her.
And so the young man did the only thing he could, to release her from her misery -- he had to let go and move on and try to care no more. "You get what you want," he told her, with loving care in his voice. "That doesn't mean much to me," she said, for she wanted what he wanted and that was to see him happy. "But it does to me," the young man replied and his heart opened and emptied, dark crimson blood of love spilling out and staining his soul.
Later that night the young man cried out to God with violent tears. "Where is my Salvation, O Lord?!" he screamed on high. "These stories are supposed to end with happiness!"
And God replied, "Does your sacrifice for her happiness give you joy?" And there, the young man had his answer.
The end.