Raz
Bluelighter
*haven't posted anything here for a while...too damn happy with my life LOL. anywho, I really felt like writing tonight so I'm back...
ps:none of this really relates to real people or real events, it's just something that was in my head...
This is a story for the lost and lonely,
A tale for those who can only roam.
The world is empty, it's always nightfall,
and no house has ever been your home.
I met a boy with rice-paper skin. His name was Jonothan, and everytime somebody hurt him, he lost layers. Like an onion. It was sad and beautiful all at once, because it left him raw but it left him in pain. And I couldn't hold him close for fear of tearing him. "Sometimes," he explained, "Even love hurts."
So I loved him from arm's reach, and I watched as his skin paled and peeled. Over time he became thinner and thinner, and I couldn't bear to watch him come apart before me. So I turned away. Because sometimes, even love hurts.
He kind of expected this, I think. It certainly didn't surprise him. He was a far more experienced judge of human character than myself, and he had always known that I would leave. He always knew that I would save myself. Jonothan told me once, "There are two types of people in this world. There are those who inflict pain, and there are those who can't bear pain." I was the latter.
So to spare myself from the pain of my beautiful fragile boy, I abandoned him to the wind. I told him that we could still be friends, but in truth I was always in hope that he would just leave. My burden of guilt hovered just over my shoulders, never quite settling. All it would take to lower that burden upon me was Jonothan's bitterness, but that bitterness never came. He accepted my weakness with calm acceptance, and that just made my burden that much heavier.
But still it never settled.
Jonothan died. Even an onion has only so many layers before its core is exposed to decay, and Jonothan was no different. My burden finally fell, and it crushed me with a weight of despair I never knew I had the depth to feel. I cried until my throat was hoarse and my tears were killed and my gut was wrenched from the effort of sobbing.
And I finally realised. All these years, Jonothan had been carrying the weight of my own burden himself. And everybody else's. He had carried the karma of all those who had hurt him, to protect them from themselves. He carried the guilt of all those who had loved him but who had turned away because it hurt them too much to see him in pain. For the first time I didn't pity him. For the first time I didn't want to save him. For the first time I found myself with only one thought:
There are three types of people in this world.
There are those who inflict pain. There are those who can't bear pain. And there are those who are strong enough to carry pain until they die. And I realised that all the time I'd felt that I needed to protect him, he was protecting me. He'd been the strong one all along. And he never knew.
I say again, this is a story for the lost and lonely. For those who live unappreciated and unloved and untouched by anything good. Your burdens would kill a lesser man, and they will eventually kill you. You don't need to protect us from pain, though I know you are strong enough to do so. We need to protect each other, and maybe all of us could stand to lose a few layers of skin. Maybe all of us need to be a little raw. Self-indulgence has cost us too many rice-paper boys, and it's time for you to share your burden with us, so that we all might carry the weight.
So that you might survive.
Thank you.
ps:none of this really relates to real people or real events, it's just something that was in my head...
This is a story for the lost and lonely,
A tale for those who can only roam.
The world is empty, it's always nightfall,
and no house has ever been your home.
I met a boy with rice-paper skin. His name was Jonothan, and everytime somebody hurt him, he lost layers. Like an onion. It was sad and beautiful all at once, because it left him raw but it left him in pain. And I couldn't hold him close for fear of tearing him. "Sometimes," he explained, "Even love hurts."
So I loved him from arm's reach, and I watched as his skin paled and peeled. Over time he became thinner and thinner, and I couldn't bear to watch him come apart before me. So I turned away. Because sometimes, even love hurts.
He kind of expected this, I think. It certainly didn't surprise him. He was a far more experienced judge of human character than myself, and he had always known that I would leave. He always knew that I would save myself. Jonothan told me once, "There are two types of people in this world. There are those who inflict pain, and there are those who can't bear pain." I was the latter.
So to spare myself from the pain of my beautiful fragile boy, I abandoned him to the wind. I told him that we could still be friends, but in truth I was always in hope that he would just leave. My burden of guilt hovered just over my shoulders, never quite settling. All it would take to lower that burden upon me was Jonothan's bitterness, but that bitterness never came. He accepted my weakness with calm acceptance, and that just made my burden that much heavier.
But still it never settled.
Jonothan died. Even an onion has only so many layers before its core is exposed to decay, and Jonothan was no different. My burden finally fell, and it crushed me with a weight of despair I never knew I had the depth to feel. I cried until my throat was hoarse and my tears were killed and my gut was wrenched from the effort of sobbing.
And I finally realised. All these years, Jonothan had been carrying the weight of my own burden himself. And everybody else's. He had carried the karma of all those who had hurt him, to protect them from themselves. He carried the guilt of all those who had loved him but who had turned away because it hurt them too much to see him in pain. For the first time I didn't pity him. For the first time I didn't want to save him. For the first time I found myself with only one thought:
There are three types of people in this world.
There are those who inflict pain. There are those who can't bear pain. And there are those who are strong enough to carry pain until they die. And I realised that all the time I'd felt that I needed to protect him, he was protecting me. He'd been the strong one all along. And he never knew.
I say again, this is a story for the lost and lonely. For those who live unappreciated and unloved and untouched by anything good. Your burdens would kill a lesser man, and they will eventually kill you. You don't need to protect us from pain, though I know you are strong enough to do so. We need to protect each other, and maybe all of us could stand to lose a few layers of skin. Maybe all of us need to be a little raw. Self-indulgence has cost us too many rice-paper boys, and it's time for you to share your burden with us, so that we all might carry the weight.
So that you might survive.
Thank you.
