You tell fairy stories to your children before they go to sleep. They are, therefore, desgined in such a way as to ensure that they are repetative and easy to follow. This means that, should you fall asleep, you know what is going to happen. You know that beautiful woman is a secret princess, and she will be rescued by the price and the evil witch will die in some satisfyingly horrific way.This means that you still feel that you have been told a story, even when you miss half it. This fairy story starts with a woman. Obviously.
This, of course, led her to the girl we have previously been occupied with.Her father was out. This always happens. Otherwise the story could not progress.The witch knocked on the door. The girl opened it, and quickly withdrew into the darkness of the room. 'What's the matter?' Said the witch. 'Why keep yourself in this darkness? It's a lovely day outside.'At which point, she went over to the windows and drew back the curtains, letting the sunlight saunter into the room and onto the girl. There was a loud, tremendous scream as the light touched the girl.
Her father eventually came to the conclusion that her daughter had figuered out that he had been lying to her and had finally decided to run away. He tried to find her. He even went to the witch in the hope that she would be able to help. She refused to, rather vehemently.In the end, he gave up. He had to. He assumed that she was living a life somewhere else, with a wonderful prince in a wonderful castle with wonderfully annoying children.All the while the willow stood there in silence. This is what trees tend to do.
'Looks like we'll have to go home.' said the prince.'Good.' said Benjamin. 'What a pointless trip.''Everything is pointless. We're going to die. All we do is fill in the interim space with meaningless activites to stop us thinking about it.'The prince turned to the tree.'At least we saw this. This really is a lovely tree.''Trees are meaningless.''Your face is meaningless.''Yes. Yes it is.'The prince looked at the tree.'You know what? I'm going to hug this tree.'And he did. And then...He also turned into a tree.THE END.Goodnight, child.
What do I want to say? Do I even want to write? I keep up with this for no reason. And that's not even true. I love writing. Do I? Or do I just love the idea of someone reading my words? I'm a whore. Sometimes I'm a saint. Everything inbetween. Human. I'm human. It took me a while, but I got there.This is nothing. Fill the space with words. Countdown. Youu know, I fell in love with you? And with you, too. Love. It's tricky, isn't it?I always come back to love. Like a dog to sick.
You really are beautiful. It's true.Whenever I see you I think that to myself. Seeing you makes all those dark little gremlins that clamber around my shoulders and pull at my hair and chatter in my ears start screaming in pain and run away and finally, for the most wonderful of minutes, my mind is at peace. You'll never know this. You'll just be there, and it will happen, and you will have no idea that you save me from willfully diving into the darkness and never returning. Your beauty helps to make this poor life worth living.
After we had finished talking, it suddenly dawned on me that, after a while, we would never do this again.Not in that setting, in that context, with those thoughts and emotions flying around our heads.It made me desperatly melancholoy. I really don't want to never do that again. This is an end, just as I think I've finally managed to figure out everything. It's over too soon. Far too soon. This world, this place, this time is enough. It's enough for me. I don't want any more. Just let me stay here, with you, forever and ever and...
Heavens, glare not so upon me.Sun, please stop your beating and wind, cease from clawing tears from my eyes and hair from my skin.The music of the birds is too loud, to crassand umpleasant. Even the most gentle of refrains seems like a roar of self-denail. I cannot stand to listen to this anymore.All this. Nature. This world. Pales and whines in its imperfectness, gnashes and wails at its failures.Not even the lilly is as radiant as you. These lines and this mind are too incomplete to write you as you deserve to be written.
'You ok?''I'm completely fine. Why wouldn't I be?''I don't know. You just look a little...I don't know...strained.''I'm fine.''Are you sure?''Yes! Just...leave me alone! I'm fine. Of couse I'm fine. There is nothing at all that has happened at this moment to make me not fine.''Well...if you say so...''I mean I'm utterly comfortable with my life at the moment and how it is panning out. I don't feel sad anymore or strange or wish that I could never think again. I'm fine, thank you. Just fine. Perfectley, wonderfully fine.'