sleepy_door_mouse
Greenlighter
- Joined
- May 2, 2007
- Messages
- 5
Let us say that a man has painted a picture.
Well, he didnt paint it himself really - it was more like he found this picture.
This picture is amazing, awe-inspiring. Beautiful in every way.
This picture, you could never get tired of looking at it.
Infact, this man, he could stare at the picture all day. And at the end of that day, he'd feel nothing but joy.
Satisfaction. Happy.
But what does a man do with such a beautiful picture?
Does he hang it up in his home? Lock it away? Hide its beauty from all but himself?
Some men, they just might.
But this man, our man, he's really putting some thought in.
If he really wants to keep the picture, he has to lock it away - lest it be stolen by someone else.
You see, this picture, its just THAT beautiful.
That special. That amazing.
If would only be a matter of time before he lost it.
So if our man wants to sequester this picture away, maybe it will remain his.
He could try.
Keep it safe. Hold on tight. Dont ever let go.
But our man, as I said, is putting in some serious thought.
This picture means alot to him, after all.
'This picture is so beautiful,' he thinks 'that there is no way I will be able to keep someone from taking it.'
'Theres no way it will ever really be mine.'
'Somewhere out there is someone who will love it even more than I do.'
'Somewhere out there is someone who really deserves it.'
This is what he thinks, our man.
'Somewhere out there is someone who...' and his thoughts go on and on and on.
In the end, all this thought, it leads him to conclusion.
Somewhere out there is someone who can make this picture, 'his' picture, into a masterpiece.
Someone who can help it reach its full potential.
Somewhere out there is the person that picture was meant to be found by.
Our man, hes not the brightest of bulbs, because it never once occurs to him that maybe he is that someone.
Never once.
But our man, he isnt dumb.
He knows he cant just give it up.
He knows he cant see the picture and not want it for himself.
So our man, after all this thought, he makes a decision.
He decides to give up the picture.
So he gives it up. Abandons it.
He walks away.
Far away.
As far away as his legs will take him.
When his legs fail, he crawls.
He assumes someone else will find the picture, and hes right.
Eventually though, our man, he has to come back.
Needs a place to hang his hat, get in from the rain and all that jazz, after all.
So, he comes slogging home.
Hes drenched in rain and mud and God-only-knows what else.
Hes lonely. Hes tired.
To be quite honest, hes alittle afraid.
After seeing such a picture, it seems like life has lost its luster.
The sun isnt as bright. The leaves, not as green. The air, not as crisp.
Life, simply not as good.
So, our man, he decides to see what ever happened to that picture.
Not that he wants it back or anything, he thinks.
He just wants to see how things turned out.
Our man, he finds out the picture, 'his' picture, is doing just fine.
Someone else did find it.
Now, its free to find its own way in the world.
Now, it dosnt belong to anyone.
It is free to go anywhere, to be seen by anyone.
The man, our man, he takes one last look at the picture.
Its a long look. Probably more of a stare.
Its hard to look away from something beautiful for the last time, after all.
Then he does something rather strange.
He turns away and he smiles.
Cold, alone, exhausted, covered in shit and without 'his' picture.
Our man smiles.
'Strange as it seems, Im happy.' he thinks.
'I had my time with that picture, and though it will never be 'mine', I will never really forget what it looks like.'
'Some part of that picture, it will always be mine. And some part of me will always be left with it.'
Our man, he thinks 'I can live with that.'
And then he walks away again.
He was right, on some level.
He never forgot that picture. Not really.
Not the brightest bulb, our man.
Good fella though...
Well, he didnt paint it himself really - it was more like he found this picture.
This picture is amazing, awe-inspiring. Beautiful in every way.
This picture, you could never get tired of looking at it.
Infact, this man, he could stare at the picture all day. And at the end of that day, he'd feel nothing but joy.
Satisfaction. Happy.
But what does a man do with such a beautiful picture?
Does he hang it up in his home? Lock it away? Hide its beauty from all but himself?
Some men, they just might.
But this man, our man, he's really putting some thought in.
If he really wants to keep the picture, he has to lock it away - lest it be stolen by someone else.
You see, this picture, its just THAT beautiful.
That special. That amazing.
If would only be a matter of time before he lost it.
So if our man wants to sequester this picture away, maybe it will remain his.
He could try.
Keep it safe. Hold on tight. Dont ever let go.
But our man, as I said, is putting in some serious thought.
This picture means alot to him, after all.
'This picture is so beautiful,' he thinks 'that there is no way I will be able to keep someone from taking it.'
'Theres no way it will ever really be mine.'
'Somewhere out there is someone who will love it even more than I do.'
'Somewhere out there is someone who really deserves it.'
This is what he thinks, our man.
'Somewhere out there is someone who...' and his thoughts go on and on and on.
In the end, all this thought, it leads him to conclusion.
Somewhere out there is someone who can make this picture, 'his' picture, into a masterpiece.
Someone who can help it reach its full potential.
Somewhere out there is the person that picture was meant to be found by.
Our man, hes not the brightest of bulbs, because it never once occurs to him that maybe he is that someone.
Never once.
But our man, he isnt dumb.
He knows he cant just give it up.
He knows he cant see the picture and not want it for himself.
So our man, after all this thought, he makes a decision.
He decides to give up the picture.
So he gives it up. Abandons it.
He walks away.
Far away.
As far away as his legs will take him.
When his legs fail, he crawls.
He assumes someone else will find the picture, and hes right.
Eventually though, our man, he has to come back.
Needs a place to hang his hat, get in from the rain and all that jazz, after all.
So, he comes slogging home.
Hes drenched in rain and mud and God-only-knows what else.
Hes lonely. Hes tired.
To be quite honest, hes alittle afraid.
After seeing such a picture, it seems like life has lost its luster.
The sun isnt as bright. The leaves, not as green. The air, not as crisp.
Life, simply not as good.
So, our man, he decides to see what ever happened to that picture.
Not that he wants it back or anything, he thinks.
He just wants to see how things turned out.
Our man, he finds out the picture, 'his' picture, is doing just fine.
Someone else did find it.
Now, its free to find its own way in the world.
Now, it dosnt belong to anyone.
It is free to go anywhere, to be seen by anyone.
The man, our man, he takes one last look at the picture.
Its a long look. Probably more of a stare.
Its hard to look away from something beautiful for the last time, after all.
Then he does something rather strange.
He turns away and he smiles.
Cold, alone, exhausted, covered in shit and without 'his' picture.
Our man smiles.
'Strange as it seems, Im happy.' he thinks.
'I had my time with that picture, and though it will never be 'mine', I will never really forget what it looks like.'
'Some part of that picture, it will always be mine. And some part of me will always be left with it.'
Our man, he thinks 'I can live with that.'
And then he walks away again.
He was right, on some level.
He never forgot that picture. Not really.
Not the brightest bulb, our man.
Good fella though...
