(no subject)
I don't want to be heroic, epic, profound, poetic, enchanting, amusing, or articulate.
But I am.
The boy, fighting too many diseases of mind and body for me to hate, as he looked me in the eye and said, "There's something about you, something you do, without even trying. You enchant people, you make it impossible to forget you, even if we hate you. I know you don't know what I'm talking about. I asked others who have loved you as I have without ever meaning to, they know. . .I'd almost thought I'd broken the spell."
The boy, fighting too much emotion to ever experience the divine, as he looked out the driver's side window and said, "You were always more intelligent than me, without having to work at it like I did. I love your words, even if I don't agree with you on what they mean. You just have that way about you, its the little things that get me. I know you don't completely understand."
The boy I was fighting, wanting to love him only as a boy, as he blessed and condemned me in one breath, "You are an epic person and thus will lead an epic, but tragic life."
The countless faces that scolded me and praised me for my "heroics", for doing more than anyone should have asked. For being wise beyond my years, giving beyond my capacity, and loving beyond my limits.
There is more to what I am. . .Other things I never mean to be or do, but am regardless. Inherent flaws that I cannot escape and that my loved one are subjugated to.
Life is but a dream for the dead.
But I am.
The boy, fighting too many diseases of mind and body for me to hate, as he looked me in the eye and said, "There's something about you, something you do, without even trying. You enchant people, you make it impossible to forget you, even if we hate you. I know you don't know what I'm talking about. I asked others who have loved you as I have without ever meaning to, they know. . .I'd almost thought I'd broken the spell."
The boy, fighting too much emotion to ever experience the divine, as he looked out the driver's side window and said, "You were always more intelligent than me, without having to work at it like I did. I love your words, even if I don't agree with you on what they mean. You just have that way about you, its the little things that get me. I know you don't completely understand."
The boy I was fighting, wanting to love him only as a boy, as he blessed and condemned me in one breath, "You are an epic person and thus will lead an epic, but tragic life."
The countless faces that scolded me and praised me for my "heroics", for doing more than anyone should have asked. For being wise beyond my years, giving beyond my capacity, and loving beyond my limits.
There is more to what I am. . .Other things I never mean to be or do, but am regardless. Inherent flaws that I cannot escape and that my loved one are subjugated to.
Life is but a dream for the dead.