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Grieving-Part III
I sighed. Why Rachel, I saked my self again and again. It wasn't a surprise, though. I mean we ALL knew that she was reckless.
The number of times she almost died saving our lives is practically infintesimal. But she nevere cared about atuff like that, at least not in front of us.
She always fought with all her might, despite any injuries she received. She ignored the fact that she was mortal. I think she really was Xena, reincarnated maybe.
She was one of the greats, like Joan of Arc, Sir Lancelot, Hercules or David Letterman. You know, the Greats. She wouldn't be forgotten, I'd make sure of that.
"Hey, Xena," I call out to the eerie stillness surrounding the cemetary, "how many high schools do you want named after you?" Silence.
Now the grief was over, like every night. The confused ramblings of my disturbed, sleep-deprived stopped. Now came the guilt. Oh boy, my favorite part of every evening.
Had I ever helped her? Not really, though she helped me a lot. When my Dad was almost taken by the Yeerks, she was the only one there. When I was 'dead', the countless times she
came over with a Dunkaccino or Little Caeser's Deep Dish Pizza. How many times did I call her psychotic or insane, to her face or to her back? Countless. How many times did I
wimp out of a mission because Xena was there to do it? Like with David. Then I remembered all the fun times we had, with George Edelman and the nuthouse wisecracks; or at the Planted Hollywood.
I chuckled, the sound brought me out of my reverie. I knew I was being a bit hard on myslef, but I didn't care.
I got up and started to head back home. I couldn't deal with my emotions right now, Jay Leno would fix that, like every night.
I looked up at the moon. "Hey Xena," I called out in my sore voice," I miss you, I really do." The wind picked up, and I started to jog home, noticing that it was about to rain. In the distance, I heard
the harsh throaty cry of an eagle. I smirked and continued walking. These nightly visits help me realize one thing, I didn't fear death anymore. I think it's a chance to finally apologize to her.
"Til tomorrow, Xena" I called out and continue walking home in the rain. The other thing, I wouldn't admit to tomorrow. I wanted to wait until I met her again to tell her about my ture feelings for her.
Who knew that I was infatuated with Rachel? Not me, not until she died anyway. "'Night."
Rachel a.k.a. Xena Warrior Princess
R.I.P. 2001
Grieving-Part III
I sighed. Why Rachel, I saked my self again and again. It wasn't a surprise, though. I mean we ALL knew that she was reckless.
The number of times she almost died saving our lives is practically infintesimal. But she nevere cared about atuff like that, at least not in front of us.
She always fought with all her might, despite any injuries she received. She ignored the fact that she was mortal. I think she really was Xena, reincarnated maybe.
She was one of the greats, like Joan of Arc, Sir Lancelot, Hercules or David Letterman. You know, the Greats. She wouldn't be forgotten, I'd make sure of that.
"Hey, Xena," I call out to the eerie stillness surrounding the cemetary, "how many high schools do you want named after you?" Silence.
Now the grief was over, like every night. The confused ramblings of my disturbed, sleep-deprived stopped. Now came the guilt. Oh boy, my favorite part of every evening.
Had I ever helped her? Not really, though she helped me a lot. When my Dad was almost taken by the Yeerks, she was the only one there. When I was 'dead', the countless times she
came over with a Dunkaccino or Little Caeser's Deep Dish Pizza. How many times did I call her psychotic or insane, to her face or to her back? Countless. How many times did I
wimp out of a mission because Xena was there to do it? Like with David. Then I remembered all the fun times we had, with George Edelman and the nuthouse wisecracks; or at the Planted Hollywood.
I chuckled, the sound brought me out of my reverie. I knew I was being a bit hard on myslef, but I didn't care.
I got up and started to head back home. I couldn't deal with my emotions right now, Jay Leno would fix that, like every night.
I looked up at the moon. "Hey Xena," I called out in my sore voice," I miss you, I really do." The wind picked up, and I started to jog home, noticing that it was about to rain. In the distance, I heard
the harsh throaty cry of an eagle. I smirked and continued walking. These nightly visits help me realize one thing, I didn't fear death anymore. I think it's a chance to finally apologize to her.
"Til tomorrow, Xena" I called out and continue walking home in the rain. The other thing, I wouldn't admit to tomorrow. I wanted to wait until I met her again to tell her about my ture feelings for her.
Who knew that I was infatuated with Rachel? Not me, not until she died anyway. "'Night."
Rachel a.k.a. Xena Warrior Princess
R.I.P. 2001