Sweetie, just what did the word mean and what right did I have to utter them to any of my female companions. Yes, they were my friends, but in the same vein, they were just friends. Not sweet hearts or lovers. Just people I hung out with. Sure, they didn't mind me calling them that, at least not that they told me. Of course I'm not told a lot of things now a days. Never have been actually. I've always been the last to know about things that everyone else knew about. I was the last to know when Kealowa was getting married. I was the last to know when Lunae got engaged and then stepped back down to dating. Or was I? I could never feel sure that I was actually the first to know. I could never feel sure that I had lost entirely. I am still friends with them both. I am still friends with a good number of women. I am JUST friends with the same number of women. Will I ever have what it takes to be more? Will I ever have the balls to become lovers? Will I ever have the ability to become life mates? I know my soul mate, and she knows me, but life mates we were not meant to be and that saddened me, it still saddens me. It brings me to tears to know that I will possibly never know the feeling of waking up to the woman you love for the rest of one's life, and that scares me, brings me to tears and I look around at the beautiful falls that I have found and realize that I will never have a grand outdoors wedding by them, because I have come to believe I was not meant for that, at least not in this incarnation. I have been upon this planet three or four times before, which I have been told is odd that such a young soul exists. I find it out that such a young soul would be tormented such by having true love dangled in it's face, only to be grabbed away by the cruelness of fate/karma/call it what you will. I have no control over it, yet it interferes in my life so often I have come to believe that such a thing does indeed exist! It exists and it interferes. It keeps me from killing myself, it keeps me from leading a normal life. I have love, tons of it, but none in the manner which manifests itself between two people who are indeed truly in love with each other and actually live happily ever after. I just have friends. I have friends and acquaintances and buddies and pals. I look up and yell, "WHY ME," knowing that I get no reply. I do this at least once a day. I ask Why me, why must MY life be toyed with. Can I not be left in piece. I have flashes of understanding but fail to comprehend, and I have flashes of comprehension yet I fail to understand. Love, friendship, are they not the same untamed beast? If so, then why is it so hard to make that step towards love from friendship, and from love back to friend? Why must love die totally and turn into bitterness, anger, resentment. Why must friendship stagnate and wilt while the feelings are there. Why must I be alone? Why why why. To all these I sense there is no answer, only more excuses and bitterness and rage. And to this end I write. Not being able to kill myself, not being able to stop talking to my lady friends, my sweeties. My honey's. My friends.
I see people cling to each other as if their life, their very reason for being depended on it, and yet, they are just friends. Brothers or sisters by desire or birth. I have never had that closeness with anyone. Then again last time I got that close after Kealowa, I pulled back all of a sudden. I felt I was leading her on, using her, so I left. I tried coming back later but to no avail. She had become bitter towards me and resented the fact I was still alive. I nearly killed myself that night. That night that I returned to try and make things right. To try and say I was wrong. I tried, but it never came out quite right and only made things worse. It was those nights that made me wonder what right I had to call myself a poet. A writer of fine prose when I couldn't even tell Puck what was going on with my head and my heart. I couldn't tell her that they were battling each other, both having agreed about how I felt for her, each wanting a different action taken by me in regards to those feelings. I choose my head, and in so choosing I lost any right I had to count you among the number of my friends. I lost her along with several other friends that day. I tried to come crawling back, but was only shooed away as if I were some lowly slime devil, and to be honest, I probably was. I AM a lowly slime devil, that must be what it is. I mean, I'm nice enough (at least I think I am), I have decent looks and I'm talented. But maybe that's an illusion that my mind perpetrates so I don't have to admit to what I really am. To admit that I'm some foul beast that has no place within society or within the land of the living, yet I cannot bring myself to kill myself or to put myself in a situation where I will get killed. I hate pain. I hate experiencing it and I hate causing it, especially the later. I could suffer through the worst of tortures, whether they be mental, physical, or spiritual. I would suffer through them all if it meant that a friend could survive. Yet I know that will never happen as I am not brave, either. I am just some emotional whore that goes from town to town, person to person, using and abusing, then leaving the remnants behind. I should be killed, but no one will kill me. No one see's me that way. Another illusion, I am sure.
I just stood up from where I had been sitting for the past few hours, thinking, questioning, reasoning out the why's and the why not's. I had no more answers then when I began, but for some reason, I felt...fulfilled. I felt like I had accomplished something. I vowed that when I returned to the Green Gryphon that I would sit down and write all of this. Maybe even recite this story to others. I guess I'm more of a bard then I give myself credit for. I guess maybe, just maybe that I'm not as low and vile as I see myself. Maybe, but maybe not. I am what I am, and of that I'm not sure what exactly it is that I am. Am I man or devil, chivalrous gentleman or lowly scum. People try to answer for me, but I believe not their answer, as they always tell me how nice I am. Cannot one person tell me how vile and deceitful and using I am? Cannot one person tell me that what I do is more of a joke to all the world then anything as serious as I take it to be? I don't know, and as I walk back towards the GGI, a small tear falls down my face as I somehow know that I have lost yet again as my thoughts drift back to Lunae and how I feel for her. She is the freshest of my self inflicted love wounds and she is unknowing of it all. Maybe I shall make her aware, but then again, she probably already hates me because I left. I left without saying good bye and I left without giving her more of my heart. Lovely gods of the artisans, can you forgive such a fool? Can you ever forgive me? Or am I just your fiddle to be played how you want when you want? Do you toy with my life and in so doing hurt those I care about? I dare not think so, for if it were true, I would seek to single handedly destroy each and everyone of you fiddle playing bastards. I will destroy the lot of you, then I will destroy myself. To kill art is to kill the soul, and without a soul, I am not a man.
Numbers...we (me and Lunae) exchange them as if they had some great meaning. As if there were more to those digits then whats there. As if some great truths were being given away, or maybe I'm just seeing more then what is there. Maybe I'm seeing what is always been there and never expressed. Maybe, but just maybe I'm not. I've known her for a good 4 years now, probably even longer. Maybe a little less, but 4 years is accurate enough for my musings. It's not like she will ever read this. In this world, at this time, either one of us can die at any moment from any number of things. Life is that fleeting, but is love? Is friendship? No, I think friendship is eternal, love being the ultimate expression of friendship. But if love is this ultimate expression, how does it form out of friendship? What are the steps you have to take to find it? What keeps it going long after the fire has been lit? Does it stop after death? Or just does it continue to evolve and grow, connecting them in the after life as it does on this mortal coil. Do they have forever an intrinsic connection that allows them to know each other when ever they meet in any incarnation? Is love some uber powerful creation of the gods that somehow even got out of their control as they fell to it's charms or is it a chemical imbalance. Is it just our brains saying "this feels good, do it again," I don't even want to plum those depths, but in wanting to learn where I am going wrong, I might have to, and in the end might even WANT to plum those depths. To see what happens in a persons mind when they "fall" in love. When they make that connection with someone that makes their brain say "that feels good, do it again". I want my brain to say that, and my heart to listen. I want my heart to say that and my brain to listen, but so often they are at odds with each other as to make such agreements rare indeed.
I am no poet if I can't even find the love of women, for what is poetry then the search for love, the search for the eternal truth that brings all men and women together as brothers, sisters, lovers and enemies. Yes, even love will cause wars. It has caused wars. It will continue to cause wars. There will always be the have not's in love. And the have not's don't always just slip into the darkness, never having known what love is. They grow bitter and cruel and hateful. All fueled by their now twisted views of love. All fueled by the fact that the jerks and jackasses of the world will always get the sweet, kind, loving people. Leaving those have not's tortured because they don't want to do anything, not out of fear of getting hurt themselves, but out of fear of hurting their good friends even more. No matter what happens,the one they are trying to help will never look at them in the way they themselves are looked at. With love and adoration. With hope and kindness and yes, even desire. Do you not desire what you love? Do you not love what you desire? They are but different sides of the same coin. Love/desire desire/love. I love Lunae, I love Kealowa, I love Puck. I also desire them, I desire their friendships, their kindness, their warmth of personality. Their warmth of body. But I will not act upon what I desire. I will not act. So I am alone.
As I look up from the table, you can see streaks from the tears on my face. I gather my things up hastily and run out of the inn, nearly tripping on my own two feet as tears threaten to blind me once again. I look up as an uproar of laughter comes from those who watch me almost trip in my hastey flight out off the inn. I regain as much of my composure as I can and bolt out the door, heading straight for Gryphon Falls. As I make it there, I start to slow down as a sob escapes my lips and tears from my already parched eyes. I collapse onto the ground, my chest heaving at the attempt to both exhale and inhale at the same time, nearly choking on a sob I fall prostrate and cry into the earth. I have not got what it takes to find love, to make it mine, to make it permanent. To make it everlasting. I deserve not Kealowa or Puck or Lunae. They are all women of exception quality and I, I am but a plain person. Poor in material goods and poor in soul. Oh how I wish I could just curl up next to the waterfall and let the wind it creates just blow me away like so much dust in the wind, and curl up I do. I am not blown away though, and this gives me reason to sob once more. Forced to continue this cruel existance. I look at the falls and sneer at it, daring it to give me one good reason why even they should be loved more then me. It just sings it's musical note of water roaring down it's face, not missing a beat.
To the gods I have lost many good friends, a godmother, relatives that I don't even know about and never will, but along the way, I think I lost the ability to BE loved. To BE cared for. I lost the ability to just BE. I continue to cry, the tears not stopping as they now flow freer then they have in many years. They flow free, but my heart still feels heavy with loss and burden. I have lost Kealowa and Puck and Lunae. I have lost them to others closer to them, who have known them longer or better. I know not anyone. Not you, not me, not my family or even the planet I live on, but I do live on, even with out knowing why, and almost starting to not care why. I live on, and I don't know why. I look up to the blue sky and the white clouds and wonder why they carry on, knowing that at any given moment, no one gives a care about them. Not caring that they are there to help protect and to help grow what must be grown. Without either we could very well die, without love, I could very well die, or am I already dead. Just a mindless corpse that doesn't rot. Or is it that I'm a heartless, soulless vampire drifting on the plains of a world that I can no longer comprehend, only prey upon to continue my meaningless existance, or am I a troll, ugly and bitter that people only deal with because I can still write. What if I stopped writing, would people care? Or would they just cut me off, close me out and kill me. The sun shines now around me, but I stay hidden in the shade, afraid to find out for sure, afraid of what I really am. Afraid of all that is.
I write a new poem, well, not new, but still has fresh meaning for me. I re-write a poem that I know well and love. I write about the death of love.
I mourn the death of love
As I look at myself from above
From way on high
As if from a ledge, will I die?
I am light headed from anoxemia
Will I keep my sanity?
Oh who in the world can she pity
She, the one who will love
Only me, as does the dove
To her I shall go anon
In her hands as gentle as the snow
That is where I shall know
An end to loneliness
The beginning of bliss, endless.
I write the above knowing that I will never know of that endless bliss. Of that all powerful connection that stays through thick and thin. I know that I shall never win.
I am but a boy in a mans body. My thoughts are for having fun and making lots of money, preferably something that I could do both at the same time, but still not working for a circus. As I look at my face in water, watching as ripples from fish coming to the surface to investigate this strange creature that is here disturb the near perfect reflection of myself. I look at my boyish features and facial hair. I look at how they contrast to provide only more confusion to myself as to who and what I am. What am I? Who am I? What ever happened to the innocence of youth, an innocence I never felt I had, an innocence I don't know feel I deserve, but man has no laws for what I feel my transgressions are. Gods have no laws concerning my supposed transgressions. I know both worlds look upon me as some sort of freak. Never having been balanced correctly. Never having known the touch of a woman, but you would say I lied about that, and you might be right. I have been in a relationship with a woman. We were together for 9 months and we were happy. At least I was. But then she too left. Now...now I know not what to do. My life feels as if it's some sort of tragic romance. One failed relationship after another. Always the same. Ending up being friends. Ending up with nothing left.
I feel as if I am going to explode. I continue to write and cry, trying not to get the paper wet, failing in that as I do in everything else. My hair disheveled, my face streaked and probably grimy, my eyes bloodshot, yet I continue to write, feeling as if I didn't write that my heart, my mind, my body, would explode. I continue to write even though now I don't know what to write about. I think, I ponder and I grope for ideas but they all disappear or fly away of just plain don't go anywhere. I search and I search, but my mind draws blank, so I sit and listen to the birds, and I meditate.
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