Within Time's Cracks

126

i can never forget the way the rain droplet fell on his pale lashes, streaming down his face like a tear-track. his mouth slightly ajar, his jaw slightly tense. he'd never looked so young. my chest ached, i didn't know why. 

i've always understood him in a way i never understood anyone else. even now, i doubt my understanding, i doubt my knowing. real connections has never been my style; i don't think anyone can truly know anyone, not fully, not perfectly.

then, he came into the picture. his voice soft but certain, his stride bumbling but persistent, his thoughts always so visible on his face. 

he looked at me as though he wanted to understand me. he smiled at me as though he enjoyed my company. he is a man of contraries; so full of principles, and yet so eager to please others. so liberal, and yet so traditional.

if i did know him like i think i do, i'd tell him, "stop what you're doing—can't you see how much you're hurting yourself? and for what? to prove to others that you are capable, that what you create is good enough?"

i'd tell him, "fuck the world, fuck everyone. they don't matter, you do."

i'd tell him, "you are more than what you create. i love your art, but if creating them gives you suffering, then fuck your art as well. yes, i said it. fuck your art. all of it can go to hell."

i'd tell him, "you matter."

over and over again.

"you matter."

but the walls around him are too thick, too tall. and no matter how much i may think i know him, i don't. not truly, not completely. to him, i am a distant friend. not even that; an acquaintance. to save him, patience is what i need, stability is what he needs from me.

and that's if he wants to be saved.

and that's if he wants me to save him.

but my desires regarding him mirrors a dark aspect of myself as well: why do i want to save him, when i should be saving myself? why do i want the unreachable, when the easier option is right in front of me? why do i see myself changing, in order to please him?

he started off as a distraction.

and now, a piece of him is in my heart, sweet and fuzzy and sleeping.