You Got Away, Huh Babe?

I wish we could go back to that night in the hotel. Although I’ve seen you since, that is the way I’ll always remember you. You’re idealistic utopias, unrealistic dreams, and sweet, false lullabies. All of these things, none of them you at all, is the way my labyrinth of a mind has identified you. At the time, that was called love for those of us who sang, and it might still be. I’m not sure if I would still call it love. Even though I gave you all of me, every single piece, and I needed you more than oxygen floating in the air, you turned your back on me. I know I’m awful, and hard to deal with, so that must be why you got away. I never once heard you say I need you, or I don’t need you. You just left, without even an explanation or goodbye. We talked before you left, and you told me you preferred beautiful women, and you’d make a small exception for me. After a few moments of silence of gratitude, you clenched your fist, and ranted about the oppression of beauty in our society. Asking questions, trying to find someone to blame, you said is it is the individual or the society the individual is in? After more blame shifting and solo debate on your part, you stopped, lowered your arms and sat next to me. In a sudden dynamic shift that startled me, you softly caressed my arms and kissed my cheek (which was a bit damp, to be honest) and fixed yourself. “Well never mind. We may be ugly, but we have the music.” I smiled sweetly as I could, and leaned into you, whispering I need you over and over again. As I said earlier, I’m not sure if it was love. I’m not meaning to suggest that I loved you the best. Who can keep track of each fallen robin? I just meant that I remember you well from that late night hotel. I guess you turned your back on the crowd, which is great. At least one of us got away.

Autobiography.

Once upon a time, there was a girl who loved herself. She hated herself, but wanted others to love her; however, the pride of loving/hating herself was the same as loving herself. She constantly thought of fantasies of ways people could show how great she was: kissing her, asking her on dates, praising her for style or grace or smarts, anything one could think of, she had imaginied getting praise for it. She was traveling down the path of life, joined by many others. It was a wide path, so many people joined her on it. When she met such people, she fell in love with how they could love her, not really them. She critisized and analyzed people, always either good or bad, worthy or not, loved or unloved. These people eventually would leave her for a much narrower path. She felt betrayed and hurt and alone and worthless when this happened. She quit stopping to eat along this path, she quit talking to people, she closed inwards. She shut herself off from love. There was a fairy who often flew alongside her on this path, even when she didn’t want her there. The fairy was kind and thoughtful, with impossibly curly blonde hair. The fairy annoyed the selfish, black-hearted woman, however, and she often shooed her away. When she didn’t shoo the fairy away, she complained to the fairy. She complained that everyone always left her, that her path was difficult, that she was unloved. The fairy always comforted her. One day, the fairy stopped coming to her. She also flew down the narrow path. Naturally, the young woman felt utterly betrayed by this fairy. She had always wanted that fairy to be there for her, to listen, to convince her to eat, to bug her, to love her. Crying and sobbing and outright pouting, the girl howled until the fairy flew over from the other path to ask whatever was the matter. The girl spouted off lines of selfishness, saying no one cared for her. The fairy looked hurt and angered, so much so that the girl stopped her crying and just looked at the fairy. The fairy pursed her usually smiling lips and said in a devastated tone a soliloquy that would make a giant cry:

I held your hand after every fall,

I kissed you after the weep and bawl

I presented you with a kiss,

Only getting a hit and a miss

Slowly I came to realize, that I

Have more to do than dry your ever wet eyes

I’ll always love you, can’t you see?

It was you who never truly loved me.

The girl was speechless and started to see every blind and selfish act she ever made to the beautiful fairy. The fairy smiled, patted her arm, but she flew away to her new friends, her true ones. The girl was jealous of the new friends, but in time she came to see that she could never again be with that beautiful fairy.