The chair
in the corner,
on the other side
of the
room.
He's always been
there.
Sitting across from her.
Watching.
Why it should
be this way,
she never
knew.
He knew,
&
never told
her.
Well,
I suppose
that's not really
true,
is it?
But
I guess
I'll have to
get back to
that
another time.
He would
tell
you,
he knew her
since time
began.
If he
could speak,
tell you
what he thought
of
who,
what,
he was.
Oh,
he COULD
speak.
It was finding
a REASON
that was the
problem.
You would
think,
after lifetimes
of being in
this realm,
he would have
found
a reason to.
Another
creature like
himself,
even.
To say what
he always longed
to say.
To tell them,
that he
wanted to know
when it
would end.
When the waiting,
the pain,
endless lives
in this place would
somehow make
sense.
I know,
it doesn't seem
fair,
does it.
Telling you
all this,
&
knowing
her can't tell
you
what he REALLY
thought.
Who he really
was.
But,
that's just the
way it
is,
isn't it.
Our stories
come
from who we
were,
&
not always who we are
now.
Or,
even,
the other way
around.
We try to
explain
what we were,
back then,
but can only
tell you
who we see now,
as we
look
back at who
we
we
used to
be,
now that we've
become something
new.
That's the challenge,
I suppose.
The REAL
purpose,
I guess.
Of who we want
to be.
That we
want to be
something better
than
we were
before.
So we can
look back
at
what we once
were,
&
can
tell ourselves,
tell those
around us,
that we've won.
We've
conquered.
We
fought
our own
demons,
&
won.
This is
one
of those
stories.
Of
someone
who
looked at
what they became,
&
said,
it
was worth
it.
Of
someone
who
looked at
what they became,
&
said,
it
was worth
it.
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