Monday, March 5, 2012

Here ya go

     I swear I’ve rewritten, reworded, retold, and recalled this story a thousand times, if not more. It’ the story of true love, of two people star-crossed and hell-bent on getting it right and staying together. With such distance between them, and in different stages of their respected lives, both living within the confines of their reluctant parents, so much was working against them.

The day they met was followed by the night that they fell in love. During that day, they relied on each other to evade capture from those who they agreed on were evil. And during that night, when they had escaped, they found exactly what they were looking for, someone who cared, and they found it so completely in one another.
In the following days and nights, after one had to depart and return home to Minoa, the other, who stayed behind in Manchester, dreamt of the love and life that had just revealed itself, and then vanished away just as quickly. Manchester had never felt such resonation in its soul, its being, its entirety, that the idea of losing that resounding emotion was to be the death of Manchester itself. Manchester knew it was something to pursue, something to live for, and so Manchester told its mother on the third day after that fateful night, “Minoa will be the one I’m going to marry. I know it.”
Meanwhile, Minoa had stayed strong and convicted that its choices on the fateful night were meant to be. Minoa knew of its morals, and contemplated only briefly that what it had done with Manchester may have been wrong. Minoa, after seeing that its previous lover was not what it seemed, was eager for Manchester to provide safety, and a love that Minoa would need.
And so, with the passing weeks, their hearts grew closer and closer, even with the physical space between remaining constant. They communicated any which way they could find. They joked and kid, exchanged thoughts and agreed, and on one or two occasions, persevered through the first arguments, which everyone fears they won’t survive.
With ample trust, they together planned for a time in which they would meet again, and a few weeks after the conception of Manchester & Minoa, they reunited when Manchester flew to Minoa.
Once Manchester and Minoa were together again, they’re hopes, dreams, and plans were made reality. They wanted to fall in love. They did fall in love.
Manchester discovered what Minoa had to offer, and it was beautiful to Manchester. Minoa was intelligent, active, and had the heart that was larger than a self-actualized Grinch. Minoa would smile, pierce Manchester’s soul with dazzling blue eyes, and touch Manchester’s hand with warmth and presence, the kind of presence that pushed itself unto another, saying without use of mouth, “I love you”.
Manchester was youth and naivety. Manchester was a bright soul; happy and beaming, filled with possibility. Minoa, being older, had seen so many not rise up to their potential, yet had faith in Manchester that it would continue on its journey, sticking to the path toward the future it talked so adamantly about. Minoa had faith that Manchester’s flame would stay vibrant, enough to illuminate Manchester’s way until the end, and maybe even help Minoa on its path.
Because of this, it was easy for both to fall in love almost instantly.
They purchased rings, and on the inside of Manchester’s was written Minoa. The inside of Minoa’s was written Manchester. That way when they were apart, they were reminded of where their hearts truly belong.
     Well, I don’t have the ring anymore, and quite some time, and quite some many events have grown between us, but I still feel my heart lies somewhere in Minoa. Oh, I’ve tried to get it back. I’ve driven over 2,000 miles since the breakup, and nothing has come of it. The driving up there was always easy; it was for love. It was to get him back. The driving home however was a different story, for I was going back to a place where love did not exist. In the absence of his love, there is no love at all.
Now I’ve tried to banish this concept. I’ve tried to erase my mind, expand it, write all over it, and having seen nothing I liked, I repeated the cycle over and over again until I had to stop and ask myself, “Who am I becoming?”
Well I didn’t like my answer, and neither would anyone else. All that one can do in a time like that is kill off the person they became, and start anew. For me, that meant moving back home, and since then I’ve been listening to a lot of Dave Matthews, and me and dad don’t get into fights anymore. They say I’m calm but filled with dreams. I think I’m getting back the Alex I once knew.

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