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Where Our Paths Crossed

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Light and dark. Good and bad. Right and wrong. This has to be that, and one thing always means another. Expression and rules. None of your metaphors matter to me. Nothing you try to compare it to will affect me; nothing you say will be a rule I cannot break, bend, or ignore. For my life, my existence, is nothing like yours.

You have to understand, when I sat there looking down into the water, I didn’t want the end to come. To me, it wasn’t the point in the road that only had one path, for I could see the others, but it was that I could only see one ending. No matter which one I was to take, it would inevitably go in the same direction. One was just shorter than the others. But instead of taking any of the dreadful options, I sat down where I was. In this moment, not doing anything or going anywhere, I could let time stop. So close to coming to the end, I figured I had all the time in the world to spare. Let it jump into the waters below. I didn’t want this, I didn’t want any of it.

Hate and love. Mercy and death. Deception and honesty. This has to be false, and when I say this I really meant that. Truth and reality. None of your words reach me. Nothing you weave will hold any substance for me; nothing in my world will ever have anything but the slightest touch upon yours. For my past, my background, was painted on an entirely different canvas.

And then you came and sat beside me. Honestly, I didn’t know what to think. Perhaps you had mistaken why I sat there, but my fear was that you knew. That you knew and yet still couldn’t see what I saw. That you would make this moment unbearable, and force me to pick a path, to trudge on one way or another. But instead you sat with me in silence. A wonderful calm silence that made me love you all the more for it. I began then, to look not down into the water, but at you. I knew you could not see what I saw, I knew that from the beginning. So I wondered what it was that you saw. The paths, the options that you were faced with could not have been as bad as mine. Yet here we sat, together, at the same point, the same place.

Life and death. Struggle and peace. Creating and choosing. This is how it is, and so nothing will change. Strength and morality. None of that matters now. Nothing that was held in my past will haunt me; nothing that lies in my future will stop me. For my options, and yours, can always be made anew.

So I took your hand, and I made a new path. One for both of us. One that neither of us knew existed. And perhaps it did lead in the same direction as the others. But with ours we saw each other, not the end.

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