Happily Ever After, Until She Comes Home

Something I thought about the other day. A question I asked myself:

A girl met a boy, and a boy met a girl. They knew it was meant to be.
Ice cream dates and talking all night. They knew it was meant to be.

But deep down, they knew it couldn’t last forever. They knew they couldn’t stay together.
Their love was secret, beautiful, real, but that didn’t mean a thing.

He was called back to home, a sorrowful parting, and she kept her sadness a secret.

He returns with a ring on his hand, but this isn’t his choice nor hers.
What happens then? Is there much of a point?

Why you continue to pursue what you know is true. The point is love, of course. I’m not talking love on paper, the signing of a contract. I’m talking true love here.

But, I thought she said she’d never be the other woman? You’d be surprised at what you would do if you know that their love isn’t there and theirs is true.

It’s a terrible secret to have to carry around. Sometimes she may wonder if she will find someone else that she can be with. Sometimes she may wonder if He, who knows best, will make it all work out in the end; happily ever after.

It must kill her inside to love him so much. It must kill him inside to know he loves her and not the once he shares his life with. Love shouldn’t hurt, right? Love knows no bounds, right? That’s what we were always taught as children. Grow up, find our one true love, and live happily ever after. Happily ever after. It sounds like such an easy thing to do.

What would you do if you met the person you knew you were supposed to spend the rest of your life with, but knew it wasn’t ever going to happen?

 

AMZ

I am a Myth.

I like how I can go online, put in my email address, and start a blog. All of the sudden, I’m a writer. I’m a writer? I’m a writer!

I’m not a writer.

I am a myth. Or at least that was my dream as a child. I had always wanted to be what other people couldn’t. I wanted to be the protagonist of our favorite books. Maybe for a little while I wanted to be the character with wings. Maybe for a while I wanted to be the super saiyan. I wanted to be unique. I wanted to be talked about. I wanted to be magic. I’m probably not the only one who felt that way during childhood, but for the sake of selfishness and that desire to be unique, I wanted to be the only one who felt that way.

I am packing up to move out of my dorm. It is a slow process because I have to wait until weekends to bring things home. I pack things in order of importance. All of the crap I didn’t really need at school went first. All that is left is some things that I don’t need there, and some things that I do.
I have some posters hung up. Half of them are of the artsy, black & white, grown-up sort. You know a shot of the Eiffel Tower, Wars End Kiss, etc. Then I have some random posters that I will have to let go of eventually. Avatar: The Last Airbender, Kingdom Hearts II. I am trying to figure out when I have to throw them away. That sounds like a stupid thing to talk about, I know. If that’s how you feel, then whatever. But I mean when do I have to throw these childhood posters away? Are they going to be Dining Room conversation pieces? Themes for the nursery? When I throw them away, will I be a grown up?

There isn’t anything on the walls anymore. It is just a boring, concrete box. I don’t wanna be in it anymore.

TGIF. Thank God Its Finals. Well, it will be next week.  But I don’t have much work left to do this week but exam reviews, so I am trying to relax a little. After I move out I am going straight to work for mom.

I want to be a grown up. I mean I know I’m grown up, but I’m not a grown up.

Peace, Love, and Pudd’n Pops,

AMZ