I remember it like it was only yesterday.
I know I'm not the first to use such a cliche, but every word of it is true.
I used to be a young, ambitious, brown-haired boy whose emerald eyes glistened with each glimmer of hope. My life used to be worth living...
... Now, I just merely exist.
I used to be blinded by youth. Alas, that innocence, with time, evolved into love. As with all good things, an end was in sight for me and destiny was out of my grasp. That once harmonious joy had turned to remorse.
That was all so long ago, back when my friends and I would set out on daily adventures just to pass the time. That was when everything was coming up roses and the air smelled sweeter than it really was, and although I never paid much attention to it then, the sky always seemed bluer. But even with all this, I never thought the grass was greener on the other side...
... That was when I was in love.
You see, all those imperfect perceptions of life were a pleasure to me, a memory that would always tug on the strings of my heart until the day I died. And the ironic part is, that's all they are now. Memories.
From time to time I look in on the source of my wildest fantasies to see how she, as I, evolved; even with the passing years her beauty still seeks to enchant me. And you might find such obsurd, but each day I have my rituals. For instance, when she makes her weekly visit to the cities of Vane and Meribia to catch up with friends, I walk behind her like a shadow, mimicing her every move until she reaches her destination. On Tuesdays, which has been laundry day ever since I can remember, I watch the sorrow in her eyes overflow with forbidden tears as she folds the towels and sighs deeply with each breath she takes. Smiling, I also protect her as she slumbers peacefully at night. I laugh when I think of all the mornings she awakes to find her blankets and quilts tossed restlessly on the velvet floor at her bedside, wondering if her dreams were haunted by fears. Little does she know I sleep on the ground, watching the rhythmatic rise and fall of her chest, and that the night that just passed was rather chilly for her dear Alex, this story's unlikely antagonist.
Sometimes, I cannot bear to watch the one I love more than the moon loves her own stars, and it elludes me. With curious spectrums I peer into her life's hourglass only to witness each grain of sand falling slower than the last. Perhaps this wish of mine is selfish... but perhaps it is not. What is selfishness, anyway? I've always pondered how love could curse you. Sadly, now I know.
You probably don't understand me at all, do you? I wouldn't understand myself if I were not in these same old, tarnished shoes of mine. You know, I can still hear her sweet voice echoing through my head. Once, soon after I joined The Lost, my heart sank as I looked deep into the reflection of a nearby mirror and saw her singing our newborn child a lullaby as she cradled him in her arms. It was the most beautiful yet painful sight I ever placed my eyes on; I can still taste my hot, salty tears as they streaked down my flustered face. But that was so long ago...
... And that is only a memory.
Never will I forget her, for even when I try, I remain unsuccessful. The song she sang when we were younger still embraces my soul and ties me up in knots. At least I still have my memories, though. I've always been told it was a blessing to be alone, but a nightmare to be forgotten, and I can honestly say that is true. However, my emerald eyes still gleam a bit of hope. Someday, I will find her here, sitting by golden gates, singing to the angels. She will be real. I will be able to touch her, kiss her, and cry with her one last time. But until that day when her final grain of sand falls from the heavens, my memory will remain inside her heart, and that is all I need to stay alive. I love you, Luna...
... Always remember that.
I know I'm not the first to use such a cliche, but every word of it is true.
I used to be a young, ambitious, brown-haired boy whose emerald eyes glistened with each glimmer of hope. My life used to be worth living...
... Now, I just merely exist.
I used to be blinded by youth. Alas, that innocence, with time, evolved into love. As with all good things, an end was in sight for me and destiny was out of my grasp. That once harmonious joy had turned to remorse.
That was all so long ago, back when my friends and I would set out on daily adventures just to pass the time. That was when everything was coming up roses and the air smelled sweeter than it really was, and although I never paid much attention to it then, the sky always seemed bluer. But even with all this, I never thought the grass was greener on the other side...
... That was when I was in love.
You see, all those imperfect perceptions of life were a pleasure to me, a memory that would always tug on the strings of my heart until the day I died. And the ironic part is, that's all they are now. Memories.
From time to time I look in on the source of my wildest fantasies to see how she, as I, evolved; even with the passing years her beauty still seeks to enchant me. And you might find such obsurd, but each day I have my rituals. For instance, when she makes her weekly visit to the cities of Vane and Meribia to catch up with friends, I walk behind her like a shadow, mimicing her every move until she reaches her destination. On Tuesdays, which has been laundry day ever since I can remember, I watch the sorrow in her eyes overflow with forbidden tears as she folds the towels and sighs deeply with each breath she takes. Smiling, I also protect her as she slumbers peacefully at night. I laugh when I think of all the mornings she awakes to find her blankets and quilts tossed restlessly on the velvet floor at her bedside, wondering if her dreams were haunted by fears. Little does she know I sleep on the ground, watching the rhythmatic rise and fall of her chest, and that the night that just passed was rather chilly for her dear Alex, this story's unlikely antagonist.
Sometimes, I cannot bear to watch the one I love more than the moon loves her own stars, and it elludes me. With curious spectrums I peer into her life's hourglass only to witness each grain of sand falling slower than the last. Perhaps this wish of mine is selfish... but perhaps it is not. What is selfishness, anyway? I've always pondered how love could curse you. Sadly, now I know.
You probably don't understand me at all, do you? I wouldn't understand myself if I were not in these same old, tarnished shoes of mine. You know, I can still hear her sweet voice echoing through my head. Once, soon after I joined The Lost, my heart sank as I looked deep into the reflection of a nearby mirror and saw her singing our newborn child a lullaby as she cradled him in her arms. It was the most beautiful yet painful sight I ever placed my eyes on; I can still taste my hot, salty tears as they streaked down my flustered face. But that was so long ago...
... And that is only a memory.
Never will I forget her, for even when I try, I remain unsuccessful. The song she sang when we were younger still embraces my soul and ties me up in knots. At least I still have my memories, though. I've always been told it was a blessing to be alone, but a nightmare to be forgotten, and I can honestly say that is true. However, my emerald eyes still gleam a bit of hope. Someday, I will find her here, sitting by golden gates, singing to the angels. She will be real. I will be able to touch her, kiss her, and cry with her one last time. But until that day when her final grain of sand falls from the heavens, my memory will remain inside her heart, and that is all I need to stay alive. I love you, Luna...
... Always remember that.