it wasn’t a mistake as it was just a misread story. emotions compelled more than you could handle. it was too ‘emotionally unstable’ for your approval. yet when the darkness in the night strikes you reveal the day’s thoughts so that you can be shattered and fixed all by day break.
i close my eyes wishing i saw the photograph i saw a week ago, a week ago when love meant love. a week ago when we had a conversation of the stars in the sky ten years from now. a week before the water damaged the photo; before love was lust and the stars were just spots of white out on letters.
i told you story of monsters in the lake, demons in my head, bandits in my home and beautiful liars. i told you the pain of the characters in our folktales, the ones who were supposed to get a happily ever after.
unlike fairytales, my mirror does not give me all the answers needed. you were the voice my mirror didn’t need.
everyone’s version of beauty is different just like pieces of a puzzle. different yet fitting.
our pieces were too different to fit, my mirror called me something you never could without being asked by a series of questions.
i close my eyes and i see the sparks off of the side of my car and in the next moment i see you and your eyes sparkling in the light from the almost burned out headlights. i let the thought of tomorrow drift away and focus on you and what tomorrow will look like with you.
but tomorrow doesn’t come
and neither will tomorrows, tomorrow.
because the story was cut short, the values learned from the characters is the important aspect that you may have missed.
he found the relief he’d been searching for with the guidance and compassion of her actions.
she lost herself for a while. searching at the roots of the tree she learned happiness came from the one who can see through her eyes.
she found happiness in herself.
and now all they ever were is just another folktale.
alana’s writings 