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Through tumultuous times a plenty
Through seas and oceans of despair
Rejoice heart because you are free
Rejoice mind for you are alone
She was beautiful. That’s all I remember now. A beautiful girl in a dismal world. Friendships often begin in the strangest of places. We met somewhere in the in-between, a half real half fantasy. Was it an illusion? I have difficulty recalling all of it. Was she real? Or was it the idea of her that enthralled me? A perfection created out of the recesses of my mind, a perfection no mortal could parallel. The amalgamation of my hopes and dreams.
But you couldn’t tell her that, could you? You believed she was just another one of those people. Characters passing in the book of your life. Do you remember the first time you saw her? She was in pink, garlands of white roses adorning her wrists. Her eyes were rubies glowing in the darkness. She looked questioning, always questioning. As if she could peer into your soul. You began talking to her. It was slow at first, a gradual buildup. Secrets were shared. Every moment brought a smile. You became something else entirely. But it was all a house built on rotten foundations. Do you remember her voice? It was musical, almost like the songs of the minnows. Her laugh, now something forever denied to you, made you feel alive. The dark nights were spent thinking about her, bright days lost to her radiance. And then at last she began confiding in you, telling her hopes, her ideals. What she looked for in a mate. You thought it could stay in that perpetual place of idyllic days. You thought things would never change. But you were a farce. An empty shell of a man. Through all things, never could you surmise such affection blossoming deep within. A strange hunger, gnawing at your insides, driving you mad with rage and hopelessness. A desperate, desperate need linked to the very core of your very being, destroying you.
One day, he came. A man at her door, asking her to be his betrothed. She told you of him, asked what she should do. Your wonderland came crashing down. Suddenly, it became all too real all too soon. Like a knife to your heart, you told her to follow her own. She said you were wise. What spell was on you not to declare, vehemently, resolutely, loudly, clearly that you loved her. That whoever it was on the door could not stand before your passion, as clear as day, as strong as bricks and mortar, that she was the very lifeblood flowing in your veins. But you didn't know, did you? You still don’t know. Perhaps in your heart, you knew you couldn't be the person at the door. You weren’t good enough for her. You were never ready to take that step. To take that plunge into the deep. To be the better man. And that ended the story. He took her away to his castle and you looked on in the way. Could you stop him? Would you stop him?
You think you are strong. You destroyed all memories of her. Burnt her image. Annihilated every part of her that called to you. Like a butcher, you chopped away the part of you that was rotten. The part that could not be regrown. As if it was all part of a nightmare. There are times though, moments of weakness. Convoluted plans to take her as Paris took Helen away. To show her the world. Write sonnets to her beauty. Conquer enemies and empires for her. Build monuments in her name.Yet you are no Alexander nor Caesar. Virgil and Dante abandon you. In the end, there is no hope. In the end, you are alone.