Time. Between the two of us we loved far too much far too fast. Five years of absence, six months of text transaction, 5 days of an intense affair.
What we needed was each other. We needed each other for different things. I needed your unique perspective that(more) made every minute we had, one that made me smile. Your strange and intense attraction to me that made my heart soar and my brain euphoric.
You needed the intimacy that is now confusing and leaves me wanting. Someone to hold you, and tell you how beautiful you are. Someone who wasn't going to judge you for your mistakes. Someone who you could have now and for now.
You're across the country and I think of you. I tell you "it's over, I can't talk to you or be around you ever again." The hardest thing I could do. I don't need your silence. I'm angry with myself for allowing this to end the way it did.
What I need is closure. A desire to hear your voice telling me "I understand." Or "I'm sorry." Or "I didn't mean anything when I said I love you." Even "Fuck off you asshole!" Silence is the only thing you're ready to give. I need your sincerity. (less)
Stop. Stop. Stop.
I kept repeating in my head. It was a like a flicker of hope in the tunnel vision of my current bad mood. Stop the madness, stop the anger, stop everything. I needed to be alone.
I was ready to face the world again. Knowing tha(more)t I will be okay. Even if it was false perception. I had to believe it to keep going it was what I needed. I went through the many doors and hallways and portals and gates to return to the world of humans in all their absurdness.
"Hey. Please forgive me."
She look up as if to be sure I spoke those words. She was not expecting butterflies this time of day. The sun was at her back and the wind was bored forcing the stranded lonely leaves to dance over the brick streets.
" I can't forgive you. I just can't. Not with everything. No." The pain in here eyes as she spoke told me everything. What we needed was something more that could not be given here. We both knew what we needed but we couldn't force our mouths with its powerful tongue to speak the words and it was too late for a kiss.
"I'm sorry for everything. I know these words will not change anythings and that..." My words were caught by my soul and even if they weren't they would have been frozen by here eyes. Her Blue eyes. From deep well I found the will to finish the words.
"...and that.. stop being...together." there was a pause that expose the abyss between us. as if it truly took that long for my words to travel to her even at three feet away.
"Good bye." I turn and left walking down the brick street to somewhere.(less)
They stood in a line eight long in the center of the street, facing two children. They held their guns across their body with two hands, their knuckles white, tears streaming down most of their faces. The two children couldn't have been more than five and nine. There was(more) a small brunette girl, openly sobbing; next to her was a small blonde boy, nudging his shoulder into hers, wiping away his own tears and swallowing his screams.
What they needed was a distraction. An escape. I bit my lip and lowered the curtain more, pushing my little sister down so she couldn't see.
In the line of eight, there was a tall black-haired girl, breathing deeply, her eyes wild.
There was a tall red-headed girl, unmoving, staring at the sun.
There was a small blonde girl, reaching out to grasp another's hand.
There was a tall blonde girl, reaching out to take another's hand.
There was a small black-haired girl, twitching at every hiccup that a smaller brunette girl let out.
There was a tall blonde, tightening her grip even more on her gun and pointing it at the boy who had nudged the sobbing girl's shoulder, blinking back her tears.
I blinked back tears. Please, please let somebody help them.
And then there was the tall brunette girl, who lowered her gun quickly. She was the one that pulled the trigger twice.
What those girls needed was salvation.
What I needed was strength.
Once upon a time stories never happen anymore. There is no happily ever after, no Prince Charming, and certainly no riding off into the sunset. Fairytales don't exist anymore.
There's just the truth. The cold, hard truth that's grabbed the world, and no matter what people try to do,(more) it won't let go. The people nowadays have no escape from the harshness of the worlds problems. Even a three year old knows of the hunger and starvation of countries, when they should have their heads filled with fairies and princesses. Its heartbreaking when a first grader comes up to you and demands to know why that serial killer hasn't been caught. That is things only a grownup should have to face. It's not right that little toddlers know of the murder and madness and problems of the world. No matter where they're from, or what problems they face, it isn't right. Children don't know how to deal with those problems. They don't realize that it would take so much effort to fix it. They are always asking "Why?"
It should stop. Children should have their fairytales. Even if there will never be a true story that starts with 'Once upon a time' and ends with 'Happily ever after', they should at least get their dreams. A starving child in a poor country deserves a chance to escape with dragons and knights. A dying child in an overpopulated country deserves an outlet with princes and true love. A stolen and lost child all alone deserves the time to imagine wizards and talking horses are there.
Everyone knows it's wrong, not right, unfair for those children, and more. But....
There's no such thing as happily ever after in our dying world. (less)
A miracle would be needed to make this seem feasible; however, they knew better than to believe in what cannot be justified. There was a sense of desperation among the crew as they pondered their only means of an escape. Some of them pondered their existence; all of(more) them their mortality.
The alarm flailed with a red light signaling low oxygen. The Captain, who even though was as desperate as his cadets, managed to maintain a proud stature in the midst of the horrifying crimson light reflecting in his eyes the inevitable failure that had occurred. Would they be remembered, honorably?
The ship changed orientation with a screeching sound; the crew desperately grabbed onto what was near them. The submarine that had been sitting on an oceanic vent was decaying with the heat, its hull breached. With temperature rising as fast as the water, some of the crew descended into the boiling abyss with nothing more than a frantic yell. The Captain dragged himself towards the command station where he would inevitably detonate the bomb. What seemed like a disastrous idea, had now become their only rational escape. (less)