... a sad sad man. He was actually more of a boy than a man, were it not for his age, he would be considered so. Many years back, people always mentioned how mature his speech and thought were. They said that he was visionary for his age, that many adults would not even begin to think like he did. And now, after passing that treshold that seperated the boys from the men, all they could say was how immature and irresponsible he was.
He was confused. Why tell him one thing, and another later? Had he changed? Perhaps. Had he improved? Apparently not. Maybe all that telling him he was mature made him arrogant, made him regress. Perhaps, it was only then that he appeared mature, in comparison to his age. Perhaps, thinking in that manner now would no longer be considered grown up. Perhaps even, that they expected him to continue to improve, be beyond what he was. Or perhaps, they were all lies.
He had been lonely all his life. He was surrounded by people, true, which was probably why he did not notice how lonesome he actually was. He had friends, but how many were true? He had family, a large extended one, with a painted air of perfection, nice people with little or no malice, but how much did they mock him behind his back? He did not think such things, 'mature' as he was then. Rather, he would take things at face value. Then he walked that line, he saw for himself how false it had all been. Lonely yet he was, lonely yet he'll remain.
Theirs was a chance encounter, him and her. It was quite improbable. In fact, nearly impossible. Seeing now, they had met before, he a customer, her a sales promoter, but they did not register. No, indeed, it was chance encounter that they met at all. It could be said that it was love at first sight, had it really been first sight. Accurately, it was love at second sight, although the first time didn't really count. At any rate, they quickly paired up on the strangest of circumstances. It didn't matter, because he was finally not alone.
The growing dependence on her dawned on him one day. Was it dangerous? He had no idea. This was his first romance, after his many brushes with it, some down a dark and forsaken road, but those secrets are locked to all but a few who cared to know. He was concerned, yes, but he was soon to have that shocked even closer to his core. The news was biting, uncertain as it was. She'd might have to leave soon. Or not at all. It was not certain, but it was almost decided. To leave him for a dream, he would not stand in her way. How could he? Love had been his butterfly: he had tried hard not to crush it holding too tightly, and also not let it fly away letting it loose. But here was the killer, that it might end so soon. Still, the utter calm in him was as scary as it was a relief.
He had almost died, many times, at least in his own mind. He was a survivor, but he would rather have not been so. Many times the oppurtunity presented himself. The coward in him would not permit it. He told her about those, and many others besides. Many nodded their heads in agreement, but condemned him inside as an attention seeking moron. He could not entirely disagree with them, he often wondered why he bothered, seeing how no one else ever shared things that close to the heart.
He never was normal. Yeah, abnormal would be one way to describe him, weird being the other. Differences in him would probably explain why the 'grown ups' called him mature. He thought about things in ways so weird as to confound Jung and Freud into insanity. His physical appearances added to the weirdness. Imagine an overgrown bulbous papaya scarred by tunneling nematodes. Add limbs, and a downright disgusting pallour and you wouldn't be far from it. Friends he had, how many understood him? Why did they stick around him? Common interests? Perhaps, strange at it may sound. How many common things could you have with someone so weird. Maybe it was because of material possesions? Unlikely, he was not rich. If anything, it was definitely his mind. They only wanted his intelligence. His only possession worth having.
Nothing much has changed since. A broken heart, a broken mind, a broken soul. Nope, nothing had changed. Sure, he now looked presentable, at least in relation to the past, but nothing much. The friends of his showed their concern, at least if they were fake, they were good at it. But soon they would all be seperate, their paths lay elsewhere. He would have to find others to replace them.
He did find another, and a few besides. This other brought to an interesting occurance that brought her to him. He was grateful for that at least. But he also silently cursed the fact that he will also be probably the first to break her heart. Angry as he was with the world, with people, his cold heart melted when she was in the picture. He would destroy the world and rebuild it to more interesting and better functioning proportions, all if so she would like it done. He would do much for her, indeed, but how much?
Many times as he wrote as others read, he wondered, how much of this 'truth' he wove did he really believe? Sometimes, he believed all of it, sometimes he wished he never did write them. A world woven of truth and lies, so tightly bound that both became one and the same, not making the slightest difference. His thoughts no longer made any sense. Sometimes, a semblance of normalcy came over him, and all was well. Most of the time, he noticed the black room each of us have built around ourselves, with only a rose colored window to the world. All deceit.
In the end, he wonders how much truth is there in the world. All hide behind a mask, all for the peace of everything. Is this peace worth it, if we scarifice the very reason we have it at all? How much does she hide from him? How much does he keep from her? That dark abbyss that he has visited many times seems ever more tempting now. He begins making plans for a permanent stay.
Jin out.
