I think I have tried every flavor of love, and if not every precise brand and minor variant like the million ice cream's in the grocery store, near enough that I do believe I am entirely too close to either dying from over-consumption or at the very least making myself diabetic.
I am, as it were, entirely sick of it. The little head rush that turns from pleasure to pain so quickly you would think I should learn soon enough to not touch again, but oh no, I do go diving back in again time and time again with the last stomache and headache forgotten and tempted by something so yummy, so completely, wonderfully, eternally desirable.
And here I find myself yet again! Oh my darling man in the elevator! Look how scrumptous and yummy you are standing across from me! Clean-cut and obviously you have a job, even at my same company I see. You don't look poor and your bag ... it is just unconvientional enough to say you are not looking to be the perfect, plastic ideal of this world. Oohhhh.... how very appetizing you could indeed become! And if, by some chance, by some small fated accident, I happen to bump into you twice, say I even discover some easy cause for a small bit of conversation, a tiny kick which overturns a stone that tumbles into the mouth of a cave that I find too curious to simply ignore. So I follow the roll of the stone and stare into the darkness and wonder what treasure's it could hold. And I follow you, as I see you looking at me as we both see ourselves watching each other in our reflection in the dreary light of a corporate, mirrored elevator; with mounting excitement our eyes meet each other's reflected person and a moment passes such that we both realize there is a chance here at more than a passing stranger.
Such is the opening into that dark and wonderous cave, and how easy it is to begin, how easy it is to cast a step into the dark following along our little conversation's thread and the small piece of vital information you imparted which gives me cause to seek you out, to ask for advice, to find you and strike up a conversation which has not the same time limit as that in the elevator. And there, within a day, we both have found ourselves quiet tumbling downward, convention and rules quickly thrown away as we dare and find that we can be ourselves. Here in the dark we are free to cast away those small demands our world and society calls us to place upon our behavior.
For a brief moment in time, I forget there is anything else outside of this hole and we hide here, away, quiet, but not alone, never alone again so long as we stay here.
And here, at long last, we may PAUSE AND BREATHE!
But such escapes can NEVER last! The sun will and always does find it's way in, bidden or no, you can not stay here child.
As we venture forth in the light of day, we are faced again with all the pressure's that were destroying us before, and a new, and added burden. But we can hide away, even if it is just for a few minutes a day, we have found a place to hide, to say 'F8CK THE WORLD!' and just be ourselves, you and I, here and now. Where we pray for no one to find us, not even ourselves.
Oh what a precious little treasure this place makes!!! You have become my quiet, hidden spot where I can actually be the sadness that I feel without fear and shame. I can be silent and make no effort at human noise, just for a bit, and be not afraid of it. I can be passionate, lustful or a cringing child who needs only to be held and you will hold me.
It is a pleasant little paradise, I wish only that this world was truly real, but the darkness of our hide-away has lied, lied to us both. We can not stay here. As all plants die in the dark, so shall we. The world may be difficult, but none, not you and not even I, can hide from it forever.
Eventually all of our realities must be faced. You have your's and I mine own. And one day, we will have to face those apart, seperate and alone again. Our secret's buried again as we loose ourselves to the shell of the person we both wear to simply get by. You behind your quiet, and I behind my icy, unfeeling shell. I don't wish to go back, but this darkness is killing me. One way or the other, my dear and darling one and for no fault of your own, I must walk away. I hope you walk as well and I wish so very much that we both may walk into a happier place than the one that caused us to seek this refuge. Like two albino's fleeing the painful brightness of the noonday sun, may we leave - please, dear God, may we leave- and re-emerge more balanced, peaceful and happy. It is only in this, it is only if we can find this... this inner salvation, that we can both be saved.
