observations pt. 1

Wherever and whenever life comes about, I follow.
I balance the scales.
I enforce the natural order.
Life is always succeeded by eternal death.

Even if it takes millions of years.
Even if it takes longer than can be conceptualized by the mind.
Even if it comes after a drawling series of exchanges.

Exchanges; being tossed back and forth between life and death.
For some of the beings I have encountered, exchanges like these are nothing more than fiction to them; they are impossible.
For others, they are a part of everyday affairs.
For one in particular, they have pushed him far beyond his breaking point.
And he enjoys the feeling.

I do not care to recall his name.
He has arguably changed me more than I have changed him.
His end began on a grotesque day of vengeance. I held his shaking arm as his tears fell to the floor, ready to lead him to the other side.
My first misfortune arose. It had come to my attention that this was not in fact his end, but a menial exchange. I was forced to throw him back into the beacon of light.
I had made a terrible mistake.

I was surprised to see him come back so soon.
His tears were absent, replaced by a smile.
He stared into my eyes and extended an arm, inviting me to dance.
I accepted.

I was completely occupied by my thoughts; I was unable to concentrate.
I had met individuals who were not afraid of me.
I had met individuals who had accepted me.
But I had never met anyone who loved me.
At least, I had presumed that the force in his heart was love. I was wrong.

I do not need love to feel complete. I do not exist for others' approval. I do not feel dissatisfied or broken without compassion.
However.
He had dangled his heart in front of me and tore it away just as I was able to comprehend it.
That feeling, so foreign, had been stolen from me moments after I came to terms with it.
He had forced me into a tug-of-war between completeness and inadequacy, just as I had led him through one of his own between life and death.
I didn't understand anything. These feelings were completely overwhelming.

At the end of the dance, he waved goodbye to me and walked into the light on his own, his smile burned into my mind.

I prayed that he wouldn't come back.
I feared him.

What's wrong, my dear? Please don't cry; you'll wet the floor. Now, where were we?

I tried to face away from him.
But I do not exist for the sake of noncompliance.
I couldn’t.

At last, I realized that he did not love me. He only visited for brief periods and then he was off again.
He would only get so close to me and then he would run to the light.
That sly smile on his face said it all.
It was nothing more than lust. Superficial; temporary; skin-deep.
But he kept coming back.

He knew that I had figured out his secret. He didn’t seem to care in the slightest as he took my hand once more.
If I could speak, if I could inquire, if I could scream, I would have done so long ago.
But I am nothing more than a destination. I am voiceless. My presence can only be revealed by the sight of an observer.
Our dance ended. I once again prayed that he wouldn’t come back.

Optimism proved itself to be the instrument of the fool.