Disclaimer: Characters aren't mine, but for the now the story is.

"If you believe that dreams can come true, be prepared for the occasional nightmare too."
- French Proverb

Bittersweet Realities

Funny how you get what you want only to lose it.

Dreams shifting to become nightmares.

She was giving you what you always wanted.

What not having had destructed, but there were strings.

You thought that you could live with them. Thought you'd be able to cut through them to get more, and maybe you would have.  You certainly could be tenacious enough. 

But then you learned there was more. . .

She wasn't doing it just for the sake of a dream you once thought shattered.  She wanted to prove a point.  In doing so she brought you into the cross fire.

You wanted to announce it.

Hell, you even drafted an announcement that would ensure you some privacy, but she refused your carefully crafted words the same way she did your name.

At first you thought she was afraid of a repeat of the past.  Of a time of telling your wondrous news, only to have to achingly recant it.

It took you a while to realize that she was doing it because she was looking for a fight.

And she got one. . .

So did you--- even though you didn't want it.


Old wounds were reopened.

Old scandals revisited.

Your judgment and morality were brought into question.

Your ability to do your job put into jeopardy.

And still you hoped.

Believed it would all be worth it in the end.

And now, as you sit here alone in this hospital waiting room, you start to wonder if that's true.

Your hope starts to die as you fear they are.

Because nothing has ever gone your way.

You backed losers most of your career. 

The one winner you managed to pick was brushed with scandal and seemingly only divine intervention allowed all of you a second chance to try to make it right.

Besides that, a voice nags, it's May.

And one thing you managed to forget up till now it that May brings bloodshed for you all. 

And not just bloodshed, but death.


As the grimed faced doctor walks in, scrubs stained with blood you know that it's happened again. 

Only you don't know who's to, what--- wish for? Hope for?

Both wrong word choices, since you do neither.


As it is, a dream has died.

You know that.

Only the amount of pain you'll feel depends on which dream you'll be burying in the coming days--- the one yet to begin, or the one that you should never have believed in again?

You stand as he comes to a stop before you; his words not quite surprising but dream shattering all the same.

Sinking into your chair once again, you start saying the words of a prayer you wish you didn't have to know right now as your eyes drift to the clock and your mind wonders.

Plans need to be changed because the dream has shifted.

Calls need to be made.

Papers need to be filled out.

The fight she wanted ends here.

You'll have to ask someone else to write this announcement.

Make the first call so that someone will know it's coming, even if you never did.

Funny how you're torn between forgiveness and anger.

How you're surprised that she's hurt you once again.

Only this time there's a balm with it.

There's a belief in your religion that death is bittersweet.

In this case, it couldn't be truer.

She fought her fight and lost, but she left you a shared dream.

This time, she didn't take with her your hope when she left.

For that you're surprisingly thankful.

Perhaps, someday, you'll even forgive, because she cut the strings herself, even if she didn't know it.

Even if she never will. . .