Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. The lyrics made me think, and they are from The Postal Service and are also not mine.
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Such Great Heights
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"They will see us waving from such great
heights
"Come down now," they'll say
But everything looks perfect from far away
"Come down now," but we'll stay . . ."
There was a boy and a girl. Most people know how these types of stories turn out.
The boy put on his coat and made his way to the door. It didn't fit, and it looked wrong. It was too big in the arms and reached his knees. He shouldn't have been wearing it. He shouldn't have been leaving.
"I need to find myself. I'll see you," he said to the girl.
The girl's hair was copper like pennies, but now, pennies that were dull and from 1934; the kind that little children save in their banks that aren't shaped like pigs, because it's something they own that's old and they want to save it.
The relationship was old but he didn't want to save it.
The girl's jade eyes looked out of place surrounded by wet. She couldn't understand why he needed to find himself. She could find him. He was right there, next to the door.
Now he was on the steps. Now he was on the pavement. Now he was on the street.
Then he was gone.
But she saw him again.
Most people don't know how to find themselves.
He went to Asia and America and Guam. He put beads in his hair and tried yoga. He never could get the yoga down, especially the tree pose.
He had once said to her, with his ashy hair hanging over his eyes in a way that suggested ignorance, that he needed her to survive.
He was young. But that was his only excuse.
One day he came back.
He was not happy.
And his eyes were wet.
"I don't need you to survive," said the boy.
"I've been through it alone, and I'm perfectly fine."
She heard these words but her eyes had already used up all the wet. There were those that had told her water was a renewable resource. No.
Her emotions hid however he did not.
And he continued.
"I can survive, but I don't think I could live. Maybe exist."
Her eyes were confused - What should they do?
"You make things better and I want that."
They were the perfect couple to most people. They needed each other, people figured.
No.
She spoke to him.
"Well, I want to want you again."
But she was hurt.
But hurt leaves eventually, like when a child scuffs his knee on the sidewalk. A bandage should make it better.
Will a band-aid fit?
She did want him again.
"I found myself," he said a few days later.
Where?
"Over there," and he pointed to her.
Because you'd never get the rainbow without the storm.
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(A/N: A big mushy mess of thoughts and having an urge to write. Review if you'd like to. Please like to!