(no subject)
What does one do when a door opens in front of them that they have the least desire of all else to enter? What does one do when the answer they so long sought has been told to someone else? I, too, as every human should, dream. I dreamt of the day where we'd stand in elegant pearls and fashionable coattails embracing one another, swinging away. Away, away we'd swing, nonchalant to any remarks made behind our gyrated eyes. And yet, the world has predestined it to be quite different than I once imagined. Rather than giving me you to hold, they have bestowed upon me one that I do not deem to ever consider. It is a door I wish now to have never obtained a key to; let alone slip it through. I am now faced with the consequences, an ardent past now fading and future filled with bitterness and lies, beginning to encompass my scope. All this due my negligence; all due to my plentiful kindness which one might mistake as an indubitable attraction. I feel terrible knowing I have initiated a hope composed of false pretenses, a love that will never spark no matter how deeply one may desire it. I thought there might have been, by my own cries, some probability that this "threshold" might lead to a path different to what one might usually expect in such circumstances, but oh! how my mind fooled me into ever thinking so!
And so, here I stand, neither with you nor pearls at my wrist. It saddens me to know I hold not the answer to your question, nor yours to mine. I am saddened upon knowing I am now faced with a responsibility to walk upon a tract of thorns I have laid out for myself. The olive-branched wreath worn my by my ancestors and you long ago, hangs wearily upon a rusty nail, "signifying nothing." The once glorious victory I had conquered for myself has but vanished all too quickly, leaving only aged memories to remind me it ever did once exist.
Perhaps one day, in a future I hope not so distant, you and I will meet with fresh leaves upon our brows, dressed in our coattails and pearls, swinging away. This time, let us dance to but a different tune, one neither played nor hummed by none other than our own heartbeats, beating in unison to the melodies of our own destinies.
And so, here I stand, neither with you nor pearls at my wrist. It saddens me to know I hold not the answer to your question, nor yours to mine. I am saddened upon knowing I am now faced with a responsibility to walk upon a tract of thorns I have laid out for myself. The olive-branched wreath worn my by my ancestors and you long ago, hangs wearily upon a rusty nail, "signifying nothing." The once glorious victory I had conquered for myself has but vanished all too quickly, leaving only aged memories to remind me it ever did once exist.
Perhaps one day, in a future I hope not so distant, you and I will meet with fresh leaves upon our brows, dressed in our coattails and pearls, swinging away. This time, let us dance to but a different tune, one neither played nor hummed by none other than our own heartbeats, beating in unison to the melodies of our own destinies.