I think it was three summers ago, the first time we saw each other. Well, it was the first time I saw you. You hadn’t seen me yet. I had only passed across your field of vision, just another cog in the machine of the masses. That’s the way you saw me. I, on the other hand, saw you as the product. You were the final prize that we were all working toward, whether or not we knew it.

I knew it though, from the instant I saw you; I knew it was you. You were the person I knew existed but couldn’t find without a place to start looking. But there you were, three summers ago, as plain as day, right under my nose, tickling my senses like the hairs on my mustache. I just needed you to know me as more than part of the mechanism. I needed you to know me as the one who beheld you.

That’s when it hit me. Literally, hit me. You’d made me pause in the middle of the street, frozen by the immensity of your presence, long enough to be hit by a car. That’s what happens when a gear stops moving, it gets taken out. But, it seems that what I needed. You noticed me then. You noticed a piece was missing from what kept you moving. You noticed your piece was missing. I was the piece you wanted to take care of. I was the piece you wanted to fix.

That was the first time you saw me the way I saw you. That was the moment you realized that I was essential. I think it was three summers ago when we found each other in the labyrinthine heat of the masses. But, we’ve been burning alone ever since.

Over a wall was a land filled with bounty. It contained any harvest man or beast could desire. To attain it, all one was required to do was traverse the wall. A simple task, for there were no guards. There was no field of mines to impede progress. There was no spell that must be broken to penetrate a barrier. There was no secret code to open a hidden door in a secluded chamber. It was just the wall and the wall alone. The wall itself stood as high as three men; but, there were numerous footholds due to the nature of the stone. Aye, the task was simple enough; but, there was a catch.  To claim the land, one must be first to set foot on it. Alive. It would then be up to that one and his kin to do what with the land they saw fit.

The first man to make an attempt at the wall nearly succeeded. He made it to the top and paused just long enough to see the bounty. And unfortunately, just long enough for the second thing to reach the wall, his pursuant arrow, to pierce him through the skull. The person that followed him didn’t make it half way before he was run down by a man on a horse and then him by a well placed spear. Eventually the land became a battlefield in constant turmoil. No man would give the other way, for fear of losing the opportunity to taste glory.

Few remained anymore that would try their hand at landing safely on the other side; but, those few that did, fought with their lives. And if one fell, another would soon replace them. It would seem as though this contest would go on ‘til the end of days. That’s the way it seemed until my family needed food. From that point on; it was only a matter of when I’d decide to ride on. I would not die. I would not lose. My kin would be fed.

At least she was close to me, right? At least for that moment, I held her near me. It should have been enough for me; but it wasn’t. It never was. Nothing was ever enough when it came to her. For some reason, I always wanted…no, I needed more of her. I wonder if she knew. I wonder if she was aware how badly I was addicted. She probably did; she always seemed to pull away as soon as I thought I might find satisfaction. She’d never let me reach midnight. It was always 11:55pm with her. Almost, but never quite there. And getting there never took any time at all. She could just look at me and we’d be there, right at the precipice, never to cross that threshold. Sometimes she would freeze time, trapping me there for hours in such a blissful torture. She knew she could keep me with the idea alone, the tantalizing thought that I might finally see the other side of midnight, that I might know the morning after.

I touched 11:59pm tonight. I know I was there. It was in the way the air tasted on my breath. It was the way I had to steady my lungs to maintain an even cadence. It was in the moisture on her lips that had manifested. We were there. We were seconds from midnight. The phone rang and stole the moment from us. I had never seen the clock turn back so quickly. But, at least we were close for that moment. At least she was close to me. I know one day I will taste morning. I know one day our heat will break over the horizon.

flawsstitchedwithgoodintentions:

        A man and a woman sit, basking in their fervent love. It is imperative that the couple make it apparent that their ardour is not something mendacious, so that they can be acquitted of their mutual infidelities. The man strokes the woman’s cheek oh so benevolently, attempting to denote his craving for her. She stares back with desirous eyes anticipating the next few moments of their coexistence. From underneath the tabletop, he procured what he thought to be his most exquisite piece of work, a landscape painting of a field of chrysanthemums, her favorite flower. He believed that the arduous time that was put into creating this work would be the most ardent expression that he could put forth into showing his vehemence. The woman’s last inklings of doubt were obliterated by this sheer act; however, to the woman’s future dismay, the woman’s doubt was not the only thing to be obliterated that day.

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When you were younger, you may or may not have had a program called D.A.R.E. at your school. It stood for Drug Abuse Resistance Education. All I really understood from it was that drugs were bad and they made you want them really bad. Beyond that, I didn’t really grasp what constituted a drug.

So, when I came upon a girl that was really cool, I started talking to her. After a while, I started to realize that she was actually really pretty, or at the very least, interesting. Anytime I went to school, I wanted to talk to her, and I hated when I couldn’t. It just felt wrong to be without her.

One day, we went to a D.A.R.E. assembly together and we were just sitting and listening to the two police officers talk about how drugs could affect your brain and body. They were telling us about how it got to the point where it felt like you couldn’t live without the drug. They told us about how it hurt to be without it and made people make bad choices to get more of the drug. All of the while, I was looking at the girl, her name was Sandra. I kept thinking about how I was feeling for her and how she was starting to sound more and more like a drug. I had an internal fit of panic and I shifted away from her. I don’t think she noticed.

For fear of becoming addicted, I never spoke to Sandra again. If she was playing tag, I’d go play handball. If she came to play handball, I’d go play foursquare. And if she went to play foursquare, I went to the boys’ restroom. I couldn’t become addicted and let her destroy my life. I don’t think she ever understood what happened; I never got the chance to explain it to her because my family moved to another city before I understood what I was feeling.

Looking back on it now, I probably knew that spending time with her was okay. I probably knew that she wasn’t a drug that could harm me. I think I was just afraid. I think I was just looking for an excuse to run away. I don’t think I was ready to feel that way. I think I might have loved her and I just couldn’t D.A.R.E.  to accept that.

As she walked away, he screamed at her, “I just wanted to mean something to you! I never could! That’s why you’re walking away now.”  Tears began to stream down his face as the emotions he swore would never show overcame him.

She paused, considering what he said, then turned and spoke.

“You did mean something to me…” she said softly “you do mean something to me. The problem is you mean too much. I’m afraid of what I feel for you. I just—“

“SHUT UP! Don’t give me that crap about how I ‘mean too much’. That’s a cop out, and if I really mean something to you, then you know I deserve more than that! I deserve the chance to grow on you. I deserve the chance to be your favorite jacket! I deserve to be the corner of the couch! I deserve the chance to become your comfort, dammit!”

She stared at him, fumbling for words, words that wouldn’t bring themselves from her tongue to her lips. Instead, something else met her lips…his.

“We deserve this,” he breathed.

There were no more curtains to tear from the windows. No amount of exposure could shed any light on their home anymore. Darkness swallowed everything like a ravenous beast with an appetite only for what might reveal its true form. No one could ever see inside the abode from outside its walls and no one ever dared venture within the walls.  The screams alone were enough to drive people away, but even those galled enough to endure those shrieks, cowered under the influence of the atmosphere surrounding the place. It was evil, pure, unbridled evil.

It was my job to investigate the home. Alone.

Alas, there were only the two of them left in the basement. Neither had ever spoken to the other, but both had been paying the utmost attention. None of the others that had been in the room really mattered to either of them, but it would never have across based on conversation. All the conversations, small talk, and banter were simply a means of distraction, a way to keep themselves busy, to stave off the rumbling anxiety in the pits of both of their stomachs.

But now, with no one in the room with them, they were forced to confront the thoughts shared between them. No longer were they able to keep them buried within, eating their way out of their own accord.

For one more second, the silence hung over the room, a drenched canvas tent, muffling and distorting sound and surroundings. And then, they spoke in unison, breaking that crushing silence.

“You saw it too, didn’t you?” they whispered.

And in the next moment, a door creaked open, with footsteps slowly descending the stairs, each one careful to make as little noise as possible.

The water rippled.

The boy couldn’t understand why his gaze had been interrupted. But it wasn’t like he was looking at anything of great importance anyway, just his own reflection. All he saw there was the emptiness of his eyes that she must see too, that painful smile that he’d never been ever to fake in just the right way, the slight quiver in his lips that never really seemed to go away. That’s all he’d ever see because that’s all he was. And because he didn’t want to change it, she left him, staring at the water under the bridge. The boy realized that it was his own tear that had had broken the calm, like his emotion had broken them. So to fix it all, he decided he’d break himself.

The water splashed.

                The funny thing about fate is that…well, there really isn’t anything funny about fate itself. The humor lies within the situations that fate can and inevitably will put us in. Whether you believe in fate or not, the fact of the matter is, things happen for a reason, random or not. It’s just part of the human condition and the way we choose to live our lives; because, the more we try to do different things, the more we present opportunities to external forces to have influence on our arbitrary albeit exciting choices (exciting used in a very loose relative sense). There is one such story, where fate seems to have had a very heavy hand. It’s the story of a boy and a girl, each from completely different worlds and walks of life and even more disparate social circles, who were fatefully brought together, only to become entangled in a love affair, the likes of which caused controversy and jealousy among many. It is here that our tale begins, and let us see just how powerful the force, known as fate, can be.

                The day was too mundane to possibly indicate the significance of its future implications. Sure, the sun was out; but the sky was gray, the horizon overcast and the air was brisk and smelled of the sea. Not exactly the sort of precursor you might expect for a day on which the basis of one of the strongest bonds between two individuals. Love.  In fact, the day seemed more appropriate for the initial notions that were exchanged between the two. The very first exchange that the future couple ever had should have destroyed any possibility of a future between them.

Danny, a dark skinned high school junior, was walking towards the office of the whale watching guides that the school’s science club had contracted, while listening to a metal song. On the ride over, he couldn’t help but notice a beautiful Indian girl that he had never spoken to before. Wanting to make a good first impression, he thought of a joke he could make in order to get her to open up to him. After all, it was in his habit to have a plethora of pretty female friends. He figured having another one couldn’t hurt at all. He prepared his joke, and nonchalantly worked his way within range of the beautiful girl and her friend, Maddie. Before speaking, he silently noted that Maddie seemed remarkably cold and didn’t seem to belong with the Indian girl; however, it wasn’t his place to judge who she chose to associate with, but at least he had heard the girl’s name. And with that he began his routine.

“I think my genes painted me the wrong color,” proclaimed Danny with a warm yet, pointed laugh.

“What?” asked Raya. To her, the boy seemed slightly obnoxious.

“I think my genes painted me the wrong color”, repeated Danny losing confidence. For him, having to say the joke twice made it seem much less comical than it originally had. “I’m black and listening to hardcore metal, therefore, I think my genes painted me the wrong color” Therefore?!?! Did I really say therefore when delivering a punch line? God, I must seem stupid.

“That’s really not that funny” said Maddie in a very flat tone.

“Yea, it really isn’t” agreed Raya. “You can leave us alone now.”

So that’s why she’s hanging with Maddie, they’re a perfect match.

“Ok then….” Danny said as he shrunk away to his regular group of friends. Under his breath, he muttered, “Swing and a miss.”