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Grex Writing Item 203: "Winters Lament" or "Seasonal Departure"
Entered by toking on Wed Aug 13 23:09:17 UTC 1997:

   What is happiness? A fickle question I admit, but one of some concern.
I thought I was happy, and either I was wrong, or things have changed. I
suppose happiness can be said to be like good weather, it comes, it stays
for a little while, then turns bitter for twice as long as it was
amniable.
   I remember spurts of happiness, glancing at those whom I had lusted
after. My mind racing through the competition for the prize, yet once it
was obtained all that it could do was stagnate. To remain happy you must
stay wherever it is that you find happiness. That is why it degenerates.
There is no change, and, therefore nothing to keep it active, healthy.
   You, my dear sweet child,have long kept me happy, or so I thought. Now,
I look around me, and all I see are blued out images, frozen like ice
sculptures. They were people (to me) once. Then there was you, and they
faded, became memories, frozen in time. Don't you see, my girl, I can not
continue like this. I am becoming as they! Look at me, my teeth chatter,
and my lips are turning blue. I tire of this game, its ancient rules.
Can't we make our own rules? We must, or our happiness will slip away.
   Do you remember me? The way I was? I already know what you'll say. You
are wrong though, you only pretend to remember, and what you truely
remember is mixing with what I have become. Sad, isn't it? I do remember
you though. Your luminous hair, given light by your fiery soul. Your
magical green eyes, given unimmaginable depth by the intelligence behind
them.
   I remember your eyes the most, because they have not changed. It is
your soul that is beginning to fade, as if quenched in a bank of snow. Do
you hold this against me? Does it sadden you? It should. When it happened
to me, I found depression. My depression, mild at the time, has festered
into this.
   It is strange. Though I used the word depression, it could not truely
be called that. It was only a mild slowing down, a temporary saddness. How
did it come to this so quickly? Maybe this thing itself is false. There
are times when it just goes away. For that time I am happy again, but it
is the times just after the happiness has returned that are the most
maddening. That is when this feeling (beyond depression) slinks its way
back inside my head.
   This will not last forever, but I am going away, and he will take my
place. When I am gone will you still protect me? When I return will you
still accept me? Must I fear my departure? I have many questions, some
that only you can answer. Those are the questions that I lack the courage
to ask.
   He will want to hold you, but his touch will chill your skin. He bears
my face, and holds my mind, but he has lost my heart. He is blood and
sweat and bitter things, his tounge is laced with barbs. Do not let him
hurt you my love.

5 responses total.

#1 of 5 by toking on Wed Aug 13 23:09:54 1997:

O.K.

how about this one?

#2 of 5 by lumen on Sun Aug 17 08:45:02 1997:

Awesome.  Such vivid, metaphorical imagery for the bittersweet emotion of a
breaking relationship in the pain of the world we live in (if I have
interpreted correctly).  There is cyncism; indeed, love so very often seems
to slip away in our lives, especially that of the romantic kind.

#3 of 5 by toking on Sun Aug 17 09:01:44 1997:

your interpretation is close...but ther is more to it, uhmm, if you want a
urther explanation, email me...and ill try

#4 of 5 by jenna on Thu Aug 21 05:14:26 1997:

nice... especially the part begining with "you my child"
reminded me of some... er events of my life ;}

#5 of 5 by abchan on Wed Sep 24 01:49:39 1997:

I liked and could relate to this piece well.  Realistic strong feelings were
a definite plus.

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