|The Story of a Magnificent Girl
Author: ChemicalExplosion PM
My struggle to reach you, to get you, to understand you. That's a story in itselfRated: Fiction K - English - Poetry/Friendship - Words: 392 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 01-07-13 - Status: Complete - id: 3090117
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Today three years ago I was slowly becoming obsessed with a magnificent girl
She was funny and smart and beautiful and mysterious and she made everything glorious. But she couldn't see me. She needed someone to be there for her and I wanted to be that person. But she didn't want me, she wanted him. I watched her wait for him to care for her and I watched her fall into a pit of despair when he refused to.
Today two years ago I was steadily obsessed with a magnificent girl.
She was funny and smart and beautiful and mysterious and she made everything glorious. And I thought she could see. She was happy and she locked her problems away and they stopped bothering her eventually. I think her problems loved her as much as I did, but I won because finally she loved me back. Or so I thought. There was a third boxer in this match to the teeth. A boxer I had not recognised, a boxer who disguised herself as a referee. Slowly and quickly, before I had time to turn around and enjoy my victory the referee had won and my magnificent prize was whisked away from me.
Today one year ago I was obsessively watching the demise of a magnificent girl.
She was funny and smart and beautiful and mysterious and she made everything glorious. But no one could see. In the end her problems won, because I was not there to defend her. They locked her away and she stopped bothering them eventually. I think in a crazy way she loved them as much as I loved her, and the problems won because she loved them not me.
Today I am no longer obsessed with a magnificent girl.
She is funny and smart and beautiful and mysterious and she makes everything glorious. And everyone can see. I love her and she loves me and that's all there is to it. I don't need to care for her, or fight for her, or watch her suffer from afar. I don't need to be obsessed. She loves me because I care about both of us, together.
Tomorrow and the next day and the next day the magnificent girl is continuously re-writing everything I ever thought I knew about love. And I love her all the more for it.